influential
Copyright © 2005, 2012 by Wynn Wagn-

Printed in the United States of America.
ISBN 978-1-938964-00-8
Mystic Ways Books
Dallas Texas 75219

www.MysticWaysBooks.com

(non-fic-

tion, spiritual)

www.WynnWagnerBooks.com

(fiction)

www.HeckIfIKnow.com

www.WynnPlaceOfShow.com

(blog)

ation may be reproduced, stored in or intro-
duced into a retrieval system, or transmitted
in any form or by any means (electronic,
mechanical, by photocopying, recording, or
otherwise) without prior written permission
of the author.

This is a work of fiction. Names, charac-

ters, places, and incidents either are the

product of the author's imagination or are
used fictitiously, and any resemblance to ac-
tual persons, living or dead, business estab-
lishments, events, or locales is entirely
coincidental.

4/402

This is my love story to Rick.

Table of Contents

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Other books by Wynn Wagner

7/402

It was not the way Nathan preferred to

start his day.

Orlando Bloom wearing SPEEDOs and

serving him breakfast in bed. The boy smiled
warmly as he imagined steamy hotcakes
served flawlessly. Unfortunately that sort of
thing happened only rarely.

Okay: never. But he could dream.
Nathan hardly ever put being in a car

wreck on his To Do list. Even if he listed it, it
would never be marked a "must do today"
item.

Some jet-powered bulldozer or kamikaze

SUV had run a red light and plowed into the
right front corner of his car. The impact was
so fierce that Nathan wondered if he had

missed stopping at a train crossing. He went
through that intersection every day, and he
never saw a train track. Maybe somebody
laid the tracks overnight.

Nathan wasn't completely sure what had

happened. He guessed it was serious. It was
closer to a train wreck than a flea bite, on a
scale of one-to-ten.

Everything was moving in slow motion,

or maybe his brain was working so fast it just
seemed like everything else has slowed.

The airbag was lickity-split, exploding at

the exact same time the other car hit him.
Nathan decided his airbag and the whatever-
it-was-that-hit-him were in cahoots.

"Thwapt," went the airbag, as it knocked

Nathan hard into the back of the seat. It was
a secret pact that General Motors had made
to wreck the car just as it was almost paid-
off.

9/402

"Damn, those things have baby powder in

them," he said as his car spun around in a
complete circle.

"Tax audit," Nathan said aloud as he

made a quick list of things he would have
preferred over having his car turned into a
lazy-Susan.

"Root canal," he said as his car spun

around again. The spinning car seemed like
it was involved in a kind of ballet.

After the car stopped moving, he could

still hear the clanks of metal as various car
parts came to their respective resting places.
One of the clanks was more of a thud, and
Nathan was wondering if he could guess
what

body-part-turned-projectile

would

make such a noise.

"Where's Orlando when you really need

him?" Nathan thought.

Powder from the airbag was everywhere.

It was all over him and the car, or what was

10/402

left of the car. Nathan decided that his next
car should be an 18-wheeler or tank.

"You okay, son?" came a voice through

the space once occupied by the windshield of
his car. It was a familiar-sounding voice, but
Nathan had some kind of vague thing going
on that the voice was the sound of evil.

The voice used the word "son." If the

voice was really his father, Nathan reckoned
the accident was fatal. Nathan's father had
been dead for a number of years.

"Son?"
If he was hearing his father, then he must

be dead. He briefly looked around for some
white light to follow.

"Let's get some help over here," shouted

the voice that was impersonating Nathan's
father.

In an instant, Nathan was surrounded by

flashing lights and men in uniform. He had
hoped to see white light and a tunnel, not
blinking stuff.

11/402

"Okay, great," Nathan laughed. "I've been

transported to a war zone." He assumed
there'd be cute guys in uniforms in the group
gathering around his wrecked car. Could be a
division of marines wearing sparkling shoes
and shiny metal things on their collars, he
thought. The blinking lights made him think
he had run smack into a Las Vegas casino
transported to Texas. Maybe it was some
kind of LSD-flashback even though he had
never done drugs.

Nathan started pulling at his seatbelt.
"No, no, sir," a woman said. "We'll take

care of you. Let us get you out of the car."
The woman tried to open the driver's side
door. When the door wouldn't open because
of the crash, she yanked it. The door snapped
off as though it were a cracker.

"I asked for Orlando," Nathan said, "and

get Brunhilda."

"Just stay there," she said, reaching into

the car and attaching a tall plastic brace

12/402

around his neck. "You'll be fine. I'm good at
this."

"I'm okay, Xena. Really," Nathan pro-

tested as he turned to get out of the car.

"Son, we'll get you to a hospital," said the

familiar voice. This time Nathan could see
the man.

Daniel Moore was the governor of Texas:

Republican, self-styled conservative but ac-
tually far to the right of being conservative.
Gov. Moore was the clean-cut product of a
law school in Dallas. During his stint as gov-
ernor, he made sure corporations and rich
donors were taken care of by the state, even
if it meant that there weren't enough funds
to spend on potholes and rickety bridges.

Gov. Moore was popular with the Nation-

al Rifle Association and all the televangelists.
He wanted gay men like Nathan to go away,
or at least be forced to sit in the back of the
bus.

13/402

"This is just ducky," thought Nathan. "I

can't wait to tell mom. She'll burst a gasket."

"Son," said the governor is his thick Texas

twang, "we will get you to the hospital
pronto."

Nathan saw that the area was full of state

troopers and medical personnel. He made a
note that governors get faster service from
the police than regular folks, and that Nath-
an should devise a plan to become governor
in case he ever was in another car wreck or
had a heart attack or something.

"This was not your fault, son," said the

governor.

"I'm not your son, governor," Nathan

said, wondering if the governor was in the
conspiracy between his airbag and the car
that hit him.

The governor laughed. Nathan squinted

his eyes in the governor's direction.

14/402

"We're going to get you to the hospital,

and we are going to take care of gittin' your
car fixed."

"I don't need a hospital, but I will need to

be gittin' a car," Nathan said, mocking the
governor's accent, as he tried to wipe some of
the airbag powder from his lips. He saw
blinking strobe lights on the car that was
partially impaled on his engine.

"Oh great," thought Nathan, "I was struck

by a police car. Had to be premeditated."

"You got hit pretty hard," said the

Amazonian woman who hand pulled the
door off his car single-handedly. She was
squatting beside Nathan. "Sometimes head
injuries don't feel serious at first."

Nathan put up a hand in the "talk-to-the-

hand" gesture he liked to use.

"Maybe I wasn't clear," Nathan said, "I

am not going to the hospital."

"But..."

15/402

"Talk to the hand," Nathan said, "and

leave a message on my wrist. I am already
late for work, and I don't want to get fired."

"I don't want to get fired, either," said the

woman. "If you get sick this afternoon,
they're going to come looking for me."

"I'll call your boss and explain what

happened," said Gov. Moore.

"Yeah, okay," said Nathan. "Thanks."
"It is the least I can do," the governor

noted. Nathan wanted to say that the gov-
ernor really ought to resign from office over
this, but he figured Governor Dufus would
just smile and go on like he didn't hear or
understand.

"This is Trooper… Trooper Miller," said

the governor as he read the name tag on the
shirt of a buff young man near the car. The
governor didn't even care enough to know
the names of the people on his protection
detail.

16/402

Brunhilda, the paramedic, stayed in

place. She was not going to let the trooper
near her patient. She saw Nathan first and
got… got… whatever it is that paramedics
get.

State trooper Justin Miller was wearing a

steel-gray uniform that looked like it was all
starch and creases. Nathan made a note that
he would never like being a state trooper, un-
til they came up with a uniform that was
more comfortable and used less starch. He
also noted that the trooper was very pleasant
on his eyes.

"Okay, so you're Orlando's dunt-stubble,"

Nathan said aloud. "I mean stunt-double."
His head was swimming from the wreck and
the dust and the strobe lights. Nobody un-
derstood the remark about Orlando, of
course, unless the airbag or the governor had
bugged car, which Nathan felt was a
possibility.

17/402

Nathan started to get out of the car, and

the trooper leaned in to help.

"Ah, hah," Nathan thought, "my day is fi-

nally improving." As soon as Nathan got his
legs out of the car, the trooper put his arms
under each arm and helped Nathan stand.
Nathan was very pleased at the tender hand-
ling from such a good looking man.

The moment the trooper let go, Nathan

went down to the ground as though his legs
were made of overcooked pasta. The next
thing

Nathan

remembered

was

being

sprawled out on the asphalt. His legs weren't
working as well as he thought. The trooper
was now covered in airbag powder.

"Sorry about the mess, trooper," Nathan

said. "Could you give me a hand to stand
back up?"

"Stretcher!" hollered the paramedic,

turning to go to the ambulance that was
parked a few feet away, blinking feverishly

18/402

with white and red strobe lights, like the in-
side of a dance club.

"Listen, Wonder Woman, I don't need a

stretcher," Nathan said, "and I'm not going
to any hospital. But if somebody could give
me a ride home to clean up, I would appreci-
ate it greatly."

The governor asked Trooper Studly to be

Nathan's chauffer and bodyguard for the trip
home. Nathan stood up on his own and
caused a cloud of dust to land on the
governor's suit as he brushed away the
airbag debris.

"Man, I am so sorry about your uniform,"

Nathan said to the trooper, ignoring the
cloud of dust heading toward the governor.
He wasn't really sorry about the governor's
suit.

"Not a problem, Mr. Nilsson," said the

trooper in a calm and official tone. There's
one thing almost all Texas state troopers
have: good manners. Even when they are

19/402

arresting you, they call you sir. They rarely
sound loud or tough.

As Trooper Studly helped Nathan to an

awaiting black-and-white car with flashing
strobe lights, he remembered something.

"Wait," Nathan said. "You called me Mr.

Nilsson. How'd you know that? You frisk me
and pull out my wallet when I was
unconscious?"

"No, sir," said the trooper.
"Not that frisking me would be a prob-

lem, of course," Nathan added, "but I'd
rather be awake so I'll remember it and
maybe enjoy it. And I usually get dinner and
drinks first."

Trooper Miller didn't react at all: nothing

positive, nothing negative, no scorn, nothing.

"License plate on your car," the trooper

said. "I looked it up in the computer in my
car."

"I'm assuming you know my address,

too?" Nathan asked.

20/402

"Yes, sir," the trooper said in a polished

and professional manner. Troopers in Texas
are almost as unflappable as the guards in
front of the queen's palace in London. You
can jump up and down in front of them, but
they will usually remain professional and
calm.

"You got some plastic that I can sit on?"

Nathan asked. "Your car's clean, and I'm
really a mess."

"It's fine, sir," said the trooper. "Now, if

you will tell me where you work, I will get
another trooper to contact them so the gov-
ernor can speak with your boss."

Nathan told the trooper about Johnson

and Elm, his employer.

"It's on Sagitaw Street, but I don't re-

member the phone number."

"Not a problem, sir. We can look it up,"

said the trooper. "I will be back in just a sec."

"Trooper?" Nathan hollered out the

window.

21/402

"Yes, sir," the trooper said looking back.
"Please don't call me 'sir.' Nathan is my

name, and it's the only word you need to
use."

"Yes, sir," said Trooper Studly with a grin

as he walked back over to the other troopers
huddled around the governor. Nathan ad-
mired the trooper's well-defined body as the
trooper went to talk over things with his
buddies. Nathan wondered if it is a misde-
meanor or felony to admire the butt of a
state trooper.

The endorphins in Nathan's body were

beginning to wear off. He felt pain in a
shoulder for the first time since the wreck.
His head felt like it had been hit by a ham-
mer. Nathan tried to guess why they would
put something like an airbag into a car, when
it did more damage to his head than the
accident.

Nathan looked out the window of the

trooper's car and saw the carnage. His poor

22/402

car was a mess. It was obvious that the
governor's entourage was at fault. The lead
car had sped through a light and hit Nathan's
car at the right front wheel. The wheel was
now firmly implanted in the engine. He knew
there wasn't enough spare room under the
hood for an extra wheel, so the engine cavity
itself must be a mess.

The fire department was looking around

to see if the wrecked cars leaked anything
flammable or toxic. It was all very official
and efficient. The fire fighters had done this
kind of thing before, which made Nathan
think the governor must hit quite a few
people.

The airbag was hanging from the steering

wheel like a limp wrist. Nathan stuck his
hand out the window of the trooper's car and
gave the airbag a limp wrist in return.
"¡Hola!" said Nathan to the airbag.

Wreckers were already crowding the

scene of the mayhem, and one was loading

23/402

the state car that had hit him. "Fine," Nathan
said softly, "preferential treatment for the
state property."

Police were walking around taking notes.

Television crews were walking around taking
pictures. One television van with a satellite
dish on its roof was sending live pictures to
the city.

Nathan hoped that if a network picked up

the story, it would be CNN because he would
never associate with people who watched
Fox. Nathan had his standards. He imagined
getting invitations to be on Letterman or
maybe the Daily Show on Comedy Central.
There could even be book deals or a made-
for-TV movie.

"I know pretty-much where you live,"

said Trooper Studly as he got behind the
wheel of the car, bringing Nathan out of his
fantasies and over-active imagination.

"Ready?" the trooper asked, turning to

see Nathan sitting in the back seat of the car.

24/402

Nathan felt himself melting at the

thought of being 'ready' for the trooper. All
he could see were two bedroom eyes in the
rear-view mirror.

"Ready," said Nathan, as the trooper put

on his aviator-style sunglasses.

The trooper seemed to know exactly

where to turn to get to Nathan's apartment.
That would be too weird, though. Nathan's
apartment was on a short and obscure street
in the gay area of Dallas. What's a trooper on
guard detail for the governor knowing so
much about Oak Lawn?

The other drivers were on their best be-

havior around the black-and-white trooper
car.

"What's the governor in town for?" Nath-

an asked.

"Fundraising, I think," the trooper said.

"There's a lot more money in Dallas than
there is in Austin."

25/402

"A lot more Republicans, too," Nathan

said.

The trooper said, "Your mother's a hoot."
"What's my mother…" asked Nathan.
"The governor called your boss at John-

son and Elm, and he gave us your mother's
name and number. Your boss wanted the
governor to call your mother personally."

"Oh, god," Nathan said, knowing that his

boss had arranged a verbal ambush of the
governor.

"That isn't the half of it," the trooper said

with a chuckle. "I am going to assume that
she didn't vote for Gov. Moore."

"Ya'think?" Nathan said.
"When I left," the trooper said, "your

mother was hollering at the governor. She
called him 'Governor Less' instead of
'Moore.'" She was telling him he is an idiot
for being so anti-gay. We could all hear every
word she said."

26/402

"Oh, god," Nathan said again. "On the

phone? You could hear mom?"

"Yeah, she reminded him that he was

only a 'C student' in law school."

"Yeah, they went to the same school,"

Nathan said.

"Anyway, she said she was using little

tiny words for his benefit. Considering his
school grades, she figured he didn't even
know that being a bigot was wrong."

"Oh, that's mom..."
"Oh, there's more," chuckled the trouper.
"I'm sure there is."
"At one point she offered to send him a

Xerox of the word 'represent' from the dic-
tionary because she was sure it was a word
he didn't understand."

"Oh, God...."
"Don't worry. I'm family," said Trooper

Justin Miller, meaning the trooper was gay.
"I wish that I had parents who were as

27/402

protective for her gay kid as your mom is for
you."

"You're.… oh, she isn't…" Nathan gasped.

Trying to take in the fact that this cute troop-
er just Came Out to him and that his left-
leaning activist mother was taking on the
governor of the state in a one-to-one holler-
ing match by phone.

"Oh, she…."
"Reading beads?" said the trooper.

"Reading the governor the riot act?"

"Oh, my…
"Yeah, in spades," laughed the gay troop-

er, now borrowed from the governor's own
protection detail. Nathan wondered if the
governor would keep Trooper Studly around
if he were out of the closet.

"Okay, I'm confused. Don't they have

something like 'Don't Ask Don't Tell' for
troopers?" Nathan asked.

28/402

"No, but they didn't ever ask," said the

trooper. "If they ask, I'll tell. They'll probably
fire me, but so what. I am who I am."

"Good for you," Nathan said. "Good for

you."

"Call me Justin," said the trooper.
"Nice to meet you, Justin, and thanks for

the lift."

"Not a problem. I'm off the protection de-

tail for the day, and I'm still getting paid,"
said Trooper Justin. "Life is good."

"Drivers sure are nice today," Nathan

noted.

"It's my startling good looks," said the

trooper.

"Or the black and white car your driving?

Could it be they're being nice to the car in-
stead of you personally?"

The trooper stopped at a stop sign but

with a pound on the brake that sent Nathan
sprawling.

29/402

"Bitch," said the trooper.
"Bitch?" Nathan shot back. "A state

trooper paid by my tax money and entrusted
with the care of the only governor this state's
got right now… and he just called me a
bitch?"

The trooper turned to look at Nathan,

who was trying to recover from the state
trooper's heavy braking action.

"Got a problem being a bitch?" trooper

Justin asked.

"Man, what a day," Nathan said. "What a

day."

Nathan and Trooper Justin laughed.
"Turn in here," said Nathan.
"Yeah, I know. I used to live in this com-

plex about ten years ago," said the trooper.

"Thanks for the ride," Nathan said as the

trooper pulled into a parking place near
Nathan's apartment. "And it was very nice to
meet you, sir," Nathan said with a big em-
phasis on 'sir.'

30/402

"I'm not going anywhere. I'm 'yours' for

the day. You go shower, I'll be right out here.
If you want to go to see your doctor, I'll get
you there."

"You're mine for the whole and entire

day?" Nathan swooned.

"Don't push it," said the trooper. "I have a

least a dozen really clever ways of killing you,
you know."

"At least come in and get some of that

powder off your uniform," Nathan suggested
with a wink.

"Roger that," said the trooper as he got

out of his black-and-white. "By the way, air
bags don't have that much powder, so your
white stuff is from something else."

"Maybe you could help me with my

shower? I don't think I'm strong enough."

"On the state's clock right now, so I'd bet-

ter not."

"Rotten clock," said Nathan.

31/402

When he opened the door, there was no

electricity in the apartment.

"You pay your bills and stuff?" asked the

trooper as Nathan flipped the light switch on
and off hoping it was the switch.

"Always. It's typical TXU: they hoot and

holler when I'm late paying but they never
get in a hurry to fix their crappy service,"
Nathan said.

"Some things change in Oak Lawn," said

the trooper, "but it is still the same good old
electric company. I hope your water is gas
heater."

"Yeah, but it's TXU gas," Nathan laughed.
Okay, so Nathan wasn't the trooper's cup

of tea. Maybe Justin had a Significant Other.
It wasn't going to happen, but Nathan could
at least fantasize.

Nathan had his own significant other, but

he still liked the occasional fantasy. Steve
was at work. Steve was always at work or on
a business trip. Their relationship wasn't

32/402

exactly steamy or emotional. It was merely
convenient. How sad.

When Nathan got inside and saw himself

in a mirror, he understood why the trooper
was keeping a distance.

Nobody would be interested in him

today. There was dried blood all over his
face. Something was oozing out of his nose.
Bruises were starting to appear on his head
and chin and arms. The white dust from the
wreck made him look like a clown that had
gone through a blender or food processor.
Blood and bruises and powder and ooze.

"Man," said Nathan in front of the mir-

ror. "Look at what that governor did to me.
Aren't I a sight?"

"You look like you sneezed into an eight

ball," said the trooper.

Nathan stopped dead in his tracks and

looked at the trooper: "What's a straight-
laced gay trooper like you knowing about
cocaine?"

33/402

"You spend that much on 'blow' then go

and sneeze it all over the room," taunted the
trooper.

Nathan stood and stared for a few

seconds, and then spun around towards the
bathroom in a kind of pirouette with his nose
held high in the air.

He couldn't tell if the trooper knew about

drugs from attending state trooper school or
because he used the stuff.

"Gesundheit," said the trooper as Nathan

pranced down the hall toward the bathroom.
He removed the paramedic's neck brace as
he walked.

"I'm leaving the bathroom door unlocked

if I fall to the floor and you need to come
save me," said Nathan.

"I'll make a note to call an ambulance,"

Justin said.

"Or if you get lonely or something."
"In your dreams," said the trooper.

34/402

"You got that right," Nathan said softly to

himself.

"What?" hollered the trooper.
Nathan was remembering his fantasy

about Orlando Bloom: "I said that a trooper
in the hand is much better than a Bloom in a
bush."

"You gotta get up real early in the morn-

ing to out-weird you, my friend," said the
trooper suddenly sticking his head into the
bathroom.

The sex Nathan and Justin had after the

shower was world class. The trooper knew all
the best moves and had plenty of muscle and
talent to make the moves come to life. They
were a sweaty tangle of manhood when it
was over, and they both needed showers
again before rejoining the world.

Hey, it could happen, thought Nathan as

he glowed in the fantasy of doing the

35/402

trooper. After drying himself and wiping the
steam off the mirror, he saw himself again.

"Okay, not today," he said to himself as

he poked at his swollen face.

"You say something to me?" asked the

trooper from down the hall. Nathan walked
out of the bathroom, drying his hair with the
towel.

"I was saying that I usually clean up

pretty good," Nathan answered shaking his
pants-less back-side at the trooper. Nathan
wasn't shy about his body. He was wearing
nothing but the towel drying his head. He
wasn't an exhibitionist: it just didn't occur to
him that he should have more clothes on in
the presence of a state trooper he'd only
known for an hour.

"It isn't happening," the trooper said.

"You're nice and all, but it just is not going to
happen."

"What isn't?" Nathan said innocently as

he flitted his eyelids.

36/402

"I borrowed a bathrobe from your closet,"

said the trooper. "I hope you don't mind."

"May I see the search warrant that gave

you the…"

"Save it," said the trooper. "I've heard it

all before."

"Oh, so what you're saying is that you've

been in this situation before," Nathan
demanded.

"I know what side of your family you got

your personality…" Trooper Miller laughed.

"You leave my mother out of this. Did she

really take on the governor?"

"I was just coming back in from outside,"

said the trooper.

"I see. In my bathrobe?" Nathan asked.

"What will the neighbors think?"

"They will think," Justin said, "they you

were arrested with an apartment full of a
suspicious powder — probably arsenic or
something — and that a person on a state

37/402

payroll was doing his best to protect his uni-
form with a modicum of decorum."

"Modicum of decorum: very impressive,"

Nathan said. "but we don't use cocaine or ar-
senic here. Oak Lawn is strictly into anthrax
these days. You learned all about modicums
and decorums in state trooper school?"

"No, sir," the trooper said in his state

trooper voice. "I learned quite a bit about
words and sentences and such when I got my
masters degree in English."

"English

morphing

trooper.

Shakespeare morphing to Wyatt Earp,"
Nathan laughed. "Adjectives morphing…"

"Troopers turning from fantasy into your

worst nightmare," said the trooper.

"You're my fantasy now?" Nathan preten-

ded to be insulted. "Shouldn't you be correct-
ing essays or book-reports right about now?"

"Yeah, I know, I should have been a pro-

fessor. I just like packing heat," Justin said

38/402

as he caressed the revolver in a holster on his
belt.

"You're creepy," Nathan said. "Did you

just 'feel-up' your gun?"

"How do I look" asked the trooper. "Did I

get all the powder… No, wait. Let me just
look in the mirror for a more unbiased
opinion."

"I'm going to sick my mother on you,

trooper," threatened Nathan.

The lights suddenly popped on. A few

seconds later they went off again.

"TXU's such a tease sometimes," Nathan

said.

The phone rang just as the trooper

reached out to strangle Nathan or put him
into some kind of exotic body hold.

Nathan answered, "Hello, and thanks for

calling. I can't come to the phone right now
because a state trooper is molesting me, but
if you will leave a message at the…"

39/402

"Not even a little?" Nathan said in the

phone. "Come on, you were fooled just a
little at… no, I'm fine… sore all over… no
from the accident, not the governor…. Hey,
was it you that turned the governor over to
mom? …yeah, I thought so. Cool move, by
the way… no, I'm not… sore head to toe… in
desperate need of attention from my state
trooper bodyguard and chauffeur, but he's all
business… no… how many? No, I'm good…
give me a half hour to finish pulling myself
together… oh, shut up. Bye."

Nathan pushed the END button on his

phone, wondering how the phone could al-
ways work and the electricity be so awful.
Just then the electricity came on again.

"And there was light," said Nathan.
"You have friends in high places today,

thank you very much. I made a call to one of
my buddies on the governor's detail, and he
probably put some fear into somebody at the

40/402

electric company," the trooper said. "It's
what he lives for."

"My boss," Nathan said pointing to the

phone. "They've got an order for 5-thousand
hula-hoops to be shipped out to China."

"Hula-hoops to China," said the trooper.

"I would have thought that China would be
sending hula-hoops to us. This is a back-
wards company you work for."

"It's a backwards world, Mr. Trooper Sir.

Anyway, our hula-hoops are special. We load
'em up with super-secret electronics and all
kinds of illegal drugs," Nathan said. "If I
can't get you to go with me to the bedroom
for a deeply meaningful half-hour relation-
ship, could you call a cab for me while I'm
getting dressed for work?"

"I'll take you to work," Justin said.
"I like riding in your cop-car."
"Go dress. And I'm a state trooper, not a

cop," Justin corrected.

41/402

"Oh, whatever," Nathan said. He liked be-

ing a flirt, but Nathan would have tried to
run if the trooper had said OK. Nathan was
all tease with no follow-through.

Instead of going directly to the bedroom,

Nathan picked up the phone again and called
his lover at work. The trooper thought the
two were strangely cold in conversation.
Nathan didn't show any emotion on his end
of the conversation, and he didn't have to say
'calm down' once to his lover. The trooper
thought if a lover of his had been injured in a
wreck, he'd be racing to the scene with sirens
blaring. The call between Nathan and his
"significant other" was brief and bland. How
sad for Nathan.

Once in the bedroom, Nathan hollered

through the closed door, "Oh, Trooper
Justin, honey, you aren't going to call the
FBI or DEA on the boss on account of our
contraband hula-hoops are you?"

42/402

"It's my bust," the state trooper said, "and

I'm not sharing." The trooper's voice was so
matter-of-fact that Nathan wasn't sure if the
trooper was being serious or not. "I don't
share, you know."

"I'm living proof," Nathan said in a dejec-

ted tone. "I'm living proof you don't share.
But can I at least have a rain check?"

"In your dreams," said the trooper. "You

almost got me in bed until you made that last
phone call."

"Huh?" Nathan said.
"You have a lover…"
"If you can call him that," Nathan said.
"I'm not a home-wrecker," the trooper

said.

"Oh, yes you are," Nathan taunted, figur-

ing he was being 'played' by the trooper.
"You've already ruined mine. How can I
sleep with Steve after I've seen you in a
bathrobe?"

"It isn't going to happen."

43/402

"Okay, not today anyways."
"At the risk of repeating myself…"
"Alright, already," Nathan said. "I get the

message."

"You do have a nice butt, though," the

trooper whispered.

"Damn," Nathan screamed.
"What's wrong?"
"Tape broke," Nathan said. "Could you

say that part about my butt, only speak dir-
ectly into that lamp over there."

The trooper just shook his head.
"It has a highly directional lampshade,"

Nathan said. "So please speak directly to-
wards the lamp."

"Do you ever rest?"
"Not so's you'd notice," Nathan admitted.

It wasn't that he was really looking for sex.
He was in a relationship, but he was very
open about himself. The 'thrill of the hunt'

44/402

was more fun than the kill itself. He loved
the pre-mating dance guys do.

Nathan's boss had asked him to come to

the shop and help with a huge order they got
at the last minute. He was still sore from the
accident, but he liked the boss and the
people there. It was a tiny import company
that specialized in putting company names
and slogans on products to be used as pro-
motional giveaways.

"I like riding back here," Nathan admit-

ted to Justin. "Can I do it again?"

"Most people who ride back there hate it.

They have handcuffs on and are under
arrest."

"Bondage: yummy," Nathan swooned.
"You're not right," said the trooper.

"Have you ever been evaluated by a…"

"Five thousand hula-hoops for China,"

Nathan said as he stared at Justin's
sunglasses through the rearview mirror. He

45/402

couldn't tell if the trooper had his eyes on the
road or if….

"Isn't polite to stare," said the trooper

with a grin.

"Okay, answered that question," Nathan

whispered to himself.

As they pulled into the Johnson and Elm

parking lot, Nathan thanked the officer.

"I hope you weren't offended with me

playing at you," he said.

"I hope you weren't offended that none of

it worked," said the trooper.

"Dinner then?" Nathan asked.
"Give it a rest, Nathan," said the trooper.

"It isn't happening. No offense."

"I'll be okay," Nathan said as he held onto

trooper's shoulder on his way out of the car.
"It will take some intense counseling, of
course. They'll put me on suicide watch."

"You need counseling but not because of

me," Trooper Justin said.

46/402

As he walked toward the building, Nath-

an noticed a group of his co-workers were
gathering outside the front door. Nathan
turned and strolled back to the trooper's car
and motioned for Trooper Miller to roll
down his window.

Nathan planted a long and wet kiss right

on the trooper's lips to the sound of whoops
and hollers at the front door of the shop.

"You go, honey," said Juana, one of his

co-workers. The whole staff was outside
watching.

The kiss lasted several seconds, and

Nathan staggered backwards in a swoon. The
swoon looked like Nathan was playing, but
this one was real.

The group broke into applause at the end

of the kiss.

Somebody yelled, "encore!" The trooper

quickly rolled up his window.

"If he's straight, I got dubs," said Juana.

47/402

As Nathan walked past the admiring mob

at the door, he turned and waved to the
trooper. Nathan said, "He's way too cute to
be straight."

"Waste," said Juana. "What a waste that

would be for him to be straight. Your gaydar
talking about this trooper?"

Nathan just gave his famous Mona Lisa

smile.

"Thanks for coming in," said the boss. "If

you aren't up to this, go home, but we got
really slammed by this order."

"I'll be okay," Nathan said.
"He wants to be slammed by that cop out-

side," said Maria from across the room.

"Hi, ho, Silver," said Manuel, a middle-

aged man full of machismo and not really
sure how to behave when Nathan and the
women started playing with each other.
Manual did his best to fit in, but his banter
was usually lame.

48/402

"Hula-hoops that we got from China",

Nathan said in a kind of let-me-see-if-I-un-
derstand tone of voice, "are ordered to be
shipped back to China. Did I understand
everything?"

"You got that," Juana hollered. "Come on,

puta. We got work."

"Okay, pero esta Señor Puta to you bitch,"

Nathan said. The word means whore in
gutter-Spanish. It is a kind of Swiss Army
Knife curse word in the kind of Spanish they
speak around town. You don't say it to some-
body unless you know them really well or
have a fast escape.

"Callate," Juana said (meaning shut up).
There was nothing Spanish in Nathan's

bloodline. He was Scandinavian on both
sides of his family. You didn't have to go far
back to find ancestors that came directly
from Sweden and Norway.

One look at Nathan with his long, blonde

hair and fair skin was another giveaway. If

49/402

he had told somebody he was Norse, he
would have told them something they
already knew from looking at him.

Nathan had some college, but books

really weren't his thing. He never studied
Spanish in school but picked up the language
from his friends.

He liked working with his hands.
Nathan inherited an interest of tinkering

from his dad, who had been an engineer. He
got none of his father's abilities to analyze
and theorize.

His mother was now a widow: a single-

mother, raising her only son. She was a law-
yer who loved taking cases that tweaked the
system somehow. She was a great crusader
for the little guy, and went into a kind of
Turbo-Mode when the topic was discrimina-
tion against gay people. Living in Dallas,
Hedda Nilsson had plenty of opportunities to
go into Turbo-Mode.

50/402

Nathan could be working at better-paying

places, but he liked the work in the little
shop in the barrio.

One of the concentrations of Latinos in

Dallas was next to the gay district, called Oak
Lawn. Nathan liked being in Oak Lawn and
Little Mexico, as the Latino area is some-
times called. He knew enough Spanish to
carry on a conversation with his co-workers.
It wasn't schoolbook Spanish. It was the lan-
guage of his friends at the shop. In other
words, he knew about a hundred ways of
telling you how he didn't like lunch but only
one or two ways of complimenting your new
fur coat or Piaget wristwatch.

"Okay," Nathan said, "I have a problem."
"Talk to me?" said the boss.
"We import these cheesy hula-hoops

from Vietnam, add a little ink in some weird
Chinese characters, and then ship the things
over to China."

"That isn't a question," said the boss.

51/402

"I'm just having a hard time wrapping my

mind around this order," Nathan said.

Tom Johnson was a big and burly man.

He was about as straight and straight-laced
as you can get. When Nathan started work-
ing at Johnson and Elm, the boss had never
been around a gay person. After several
years, he was used to the kidding. He would
probably never be used to the innuendos and
the Spanish words he knew were not polite,
but he figured they were working for him at
minimum wage so he needed to put up with
whatever it took to get the job done.

"Come to mama," said another co-work-

er. "I put you to work."

"You're not my type," Nathan said. "No

offense."

"None taken, honey," said the woman.

"But I need you to sashay your little petunia
over here to pack boxes."

52/402

They all worked very hard that day. Nath-

an would stop more often than he usually
did. He was in pain mostly.

Once he took a hula-hoop over to Juana.

They consulted and pointed for a minute.
The boss noticed and came over to see what
was holding up progress.

"Señor, most highest sir," Nathan said.

"We have a quality control problem."

Tom Johnson swung into action. It was

the one thing he knew that could kill his
business.

"What?" said the boss.
"¿'Al revés'?" Juana asked Nathan.
He said, "No se."
"She's saying, how do you know we're not

stamping the slogan upside-down?" Nathan
asked. "We think you've printed this Chinese
lettering upside-down."

The boss thought for a second, then

stepped

Nathan's

foot.

"Because,

53/402

grasshopper, it is a hula-hoop. If it is upside-
down, you just turn the hoop over."

"He's messin' with you," Juana said.
"He's always messin' with me," said the

boss. "I don't know why we even keep you
here."

"Because I sleep with you," Nathan asked

loudly, blowing him a kiss.

"Oh, chingo," said Juana, in a kind of

sing-song voice that Nathan could never
master. "You stepped in it now."

"Don't even start a rumor like that," said

the boss. "I'm gonna print you upside-down.
Now, get back to work."

Nathan started singing after a few

minutes, "You load 16 tons and-a what do
you get..."

The rest of the shop took up the song:

"another day older and-a deeper in debt."

It was an old song done by Tennessee

Ernie Ford in the 1950s. Nathan's mother
played the song over and over, first on

54/402

records, then on 8-track tapes, and now on
her ever-present iPod digital music thing.

Nathan walked into the middle of the

shop to sing the rest by himself: "Saint Peter
don't you call me, cause I can't go-o-o-o-o. I
owe my soul to the hula-hoop store."

The whole shop laughed. It was the kind

of tension-breaker that Tom Johnson liked
to see. He saw everyone work harder and
faster when Nathan was around. He pulled
people together into an extended family.

It was probably the main reason some of

them stayed at Johnson and Elm. It certainly
wasn't that they were overpaid.

55/402

It was dark by the time all the hula-hoops

were printed, boxed, and on the truck. Nath-
an looked at his watch: after eight o'clock.

He reached for his phone to call his lover,

Steve. No phone. Car wreck, oh yeah. Cell
phone must still be in what's left of the car.

Nathan walked back into the shop to use

the phone. No answer, so Nathan left a mes-
sage after the beep. He said he was at work,
so if there was a manhunt for him in the
morgue or hospitals, to call everything off.
Nathan said he'd be home shortly.

Back outside, he turned into the Johnson

and Elm parking lot.

Car... wreck... there's no car for him in

the parking lot.

He felt alone and vulnerable. Nathan was

hurt, and his lover didn't seem to care. His
lover was like an appliance or fixture. There
wasn't any fun left.

Nathan turned and started walking in the

opposite direction. There was a neighbor-
hood bar a couple of blocks away. He de-
cided he deserved a drink or two after the
day he'd had. The bartender could call him a
cab when he was ready to leave.

The excitement of the morning's car

wreck had led to an evening that was incon-
venient yet mired in the drab routine of what
Nathan called his fate. The clown at work
was short on joy for himself. How sad for
Nathan.

Nathan Nilsson was a handsome man

with chiseled Scandinavian features and
shoulder-length ash-blond hair. His eyes
were so blue, and the blue was so bright, that
some people thought he was wearing tinted
contact lenses.

57/402

He rarely used coarse language, except at

the shop. He didn't see anything wrong with
the occasional well-placed gutter-word, but
he just didn't talk like that. He wasn't the
kind who avoided cursing. His dad once told
him that cursing was a lousy excuse for not
being able to find different words to use.
Cursing is like wearing a sign that says your
vocabulary only has five or six words.

Nathan was the kind of young man who

easily fit into a wide range of situations. He
was comfortable talking to priests, to pro-
fessors, to drag queens, and to co-workers in
the SS (sweat-shop, as they called it).

As soon as the door to Johnson and Elm

was closed behind him, Nathan's vocabulary
got more proper and refined. He sounded
more like the son of an engineer and lawyer.

"What'll it be, Nathan?" asked the

bartender.

58/402

"A fuckin' gun." Okay, most days his

vocabulary changed. Today was the obvious
exception.

"Fresh out, man," said the bartender.

"Rough day?"

"Rough life. Vodka gimlet. Rocks," Nath-

an said.

"I'm on it."
When the bartender returned, he had

Nathan's cocktail.

"It's on me, sugar."
"Thanks," said Nathan as he pulled out a

dollar to give the man as a tip.

"Whose plane did you fall out of?" asked

the bartender.

"Huh?" Nathan asked.
"The face…"
"Oh, I lost track of my head for a minute.

It was the governor…"

"Are you the guy the governor's parade

swacked?"

59/402

"One in the same," said Nathan.
"Homophobic

bastard,"

said

the

bartender.

"I don't think this one was an anti-gay at-

tack. I think his lead driver just ran a traffic
light," Nathan said. "He was on his way to
raise money in some la-di-dah mansion."

"Gotta protect marriage from people like

you," said one of the other bar patrons.

"Keep marriage sacred and traditional for

people like Brittney Spears," said the Bar-
tender laughing.

Nathan was drawing a small crowd as

everyone wanted to see their neighborhood
celebrity.

"Gonna sue?" somebody asked.
"Naw," said Nathan. "It'd just turn me in-

to a rich thing supporting right-wing candid-
ates. I'm okay just the way God made me:
poor and queer."

"I hear that," said somebody at the bar.

60/402

The bartender and several patrons who

had come in closer to get a better look at the
man who was the main feature on all the
newscasts that afternoon.

"You made CNN, you know," said the

bartender.

"Me or the governor?" Nathan asked, re-

lieved it was CNN and not Fox. Oh, maybe it
was on Fox too, Nathan thought.

"I saw the governor covered in some kind

of powder," said the bartender.

"Airbag went berserk," Nathan said.
"I think he was doing a blow when he got

hit," said someone at the end of the bar.

"Hey, Justin," said the bartender. "You

been involved in this?"

The bartender walked to the end of the

bar where Nathan's state trooper friend was
sitting.

61/402

"Hey, trooper," Nathan shouted. "You

stalking me? 'Cause they got laws about
stalking."

"In your dreams," Justin hollered back.
"Hit me again," said Nathan asking for

another drink.

"Seems like you've been hit enough for

one day," said one of the bar patrons.

Nathan pushed some dollar bills into the

trough that runs along the bartender's side of
the bar counter. "I'm off to the head…"

A few bar people on bar stools swiveled to

look down at Justin Miller's stool. The troop-
er hadn't heard Nathan filling them in on his
experiences during the day. Now, off duty,
and wanting to get on with his personal life,
Nathan's friends told the trooper that Nath-
an was headed for the 'facilities' in case the
trooper wanted to follow.

"What'd he tell you?" Justin asked.

62/402

"Nothin' about you, if you gotta know,"

said one man, "but Nathan's quite a catch."
They assured the trooper that he wasn't at
his best today.

"He's cute when he's not bein' beat up in

a car wreck," said one.

"Yeah, not always so accident prone,"

said another.

"Isn't he attached to somebody?" Justin

asked.

"Kinda-sorta," said one.
"Stuck like a Post-It note and easy to pull

off," the bartender volunteered.

"In with a creep right now," said another.
"Thanks anyway," said Justin. "I'm on the

rebound right now, and I need some down
time."

63/402

It was drag show night at the bar. They

do it once a month, mainly to give "has been"
neighborhood queens a place to pretend they
are still young and talented.

Nathan was never a fan of drag shows. He

usually felt sorry for these middle-aged guys
who never moved on with their lives.

The headline act for the evening was

causing quite a stir. Her stage name was
Miss Eileen Dover, but someone had
scratched off that name on the "Come See
Tonight…" poster. They had replaced it with
"Anne Teak."

"That is so cruel," cried Miss Eileen

Dover. "Anne Teak, indeed. I'm no antique.

It is mean and dastardly and you just wait
until I get up on that stage tonight…"

"If you can handle the stairs," shouted

somebody from the bar.

Miss Eileen Dover stormed into the bath-

room and slammed the door. She's a fussy
old queen with as deep a voice as Nathan had
ever heard. It's weird to see someone in a
fancy dress with a deep voice like a radio
announcer.

Jason Mraz was singing on the jukebox,

"I got too much food on my plate." Nathan
said, "Amen, Jason. Amen."

As he walked toward the bathroom,

listening to the jukebox and all the carrying
on at the bathroom, Nathan saw something
at the far end of the tavern that stopped him
cold in his tracks.

His so-called lover was at a tiny table way

off in the far corner of the bar. Nathan's lover
was kissing and carrying on with somebody.

65/402

Nathan had been in a near-fatal car

wreck by a notoriously homophobic governor
who had publicly stated that "his type"
should never be allowed "special rights" and
in fact should be stripped of their very cit-
izenship. The governor had once introduced
a law into the state legislature that would
have rounded up everyone with HIV and
quarantined them (read "concentration
camp"). It was on the same day that a change
to the punishment for men caught having sex
with farm animals from two years down to
six months.

Nathan felt the bruising on his head

pounding as he watched the man who shared
his bed, putting the kind of moves on Mr.
Bimbo that he was supposed to be putting on
Nathan. At the very least, he should have
made himself available to Nathan today of all
days.

66/402

Jason Mraz on the jukebox was singing,

"You'd better shut up or get shot down... I
got too much food on my plate."

The pounding in Nathan's head was now

exploding as he walked over to where his lov-
er was sucking face with the bimbo. When he
was closer, he noticed that the bimbo was
none other than his best friend, Carl.

Nathan suddenly felt everything get calm.

Instead of an explosive rage, he felt the calm
force of a determined man. He didn't need
extra testosterone to say what he knew
needed to be said.

"Hello, Steve," Nathan said. "Hello, Carl."
"Hi, honey," Steve said trying to find the

kind of composure that was impossible in
such a circumstance.

"Been here long?" asked Nathan. "Been

doing Carl long?"

"No, babe. Let me explain…"
"Not necessary, schnookums," Nathan

said in a quiet voice. "I assume the whole bar

67/402

has known about the two of you for a long
time."

"Never before today."
"Save it," Nathan said. "Just sit there and

listen. I have something to say, and it is
something you will want to know."

"Okay, honey," said the lover.
"Shut up," Nathan said. "I've had a rough

day today. I've put up with the governor run-
ning a red light and almost killing me. I've
put up with an airbag exploding all over me
and causing almost more damage than the
car wreck. And speaking of my car, it is a
mangled mess from being broadsided by a
bulletproof limo."

"I know how this looks…"
"Shut the fuck up," Nathan said quietly.
"Down at the end of the bar is an off duty

state trooper. How do I know this? Because
the governor assigned him to watch after me
today because you weren't around. You
couldn't be bothered that I was almost killed.

68/402

He is not in uniform because I asked him to
try to fit in, but I assure you he is capable as
a state trooper with or without a uniform.
And not that he would need a uniform to
take your miserable ass down, you can as-
sume that the trooper is heavily armed..."

"I think you're over…"
"I'll show you overreacting. Now shut up

and don't move an inch, or I'll have you
arrested."

The snuggle-birds were in shock as Nath-

an walked away. At the end of the bar, he had
a word with Justin. Nathan returned to the
table in the back in the dark in the corner
with Justin about five feet behind. When
Nathan stopped near the table, Trooper
Justin stopped about five feet away.

"This is the Justin Miller, the state troop-

er who was assigned to be my bodyguard
after today's wreck," Nathan said. "He has
been nice enough to remain in civilian
clothes so as not to cause undo attention. He

69/402

is in here to protect me, not because he's gay,
and I want that understood."

The kissy-kissy pair were sitting and star-

ing. In fact, the whole bar was staring. They
couldn't hear anything because Nathan was
speaking

softly,

but

everyone

knew

something serious was going down off in the
corner. The bartender was standing close to
the secret button that would set off a silent
alarm.

This wasn't the mood Steve and Carl were

trying to create for themselves on their
clandestine rendezvous. What mood they
had going was gone: kaput, blown out the
window by being caught. The mood was bey-
ond repair for the rest of the evening. Con-
frontation does that to dates sometimes, es-
pecially when the date involves sneaking
around.

An injured lover and his heavily armed

state trooper can put the skids on an evening
of romance.

70/402

"Okay, here's what I want you to do,"

Nathan said, thinking of how many good
times he and Carl had shared.

"Carl..." Nathan started, thinking that be-

trayal by a best friend is the saddest thing in
the world. This lousy-excuse for a human is
the same person Nathan had spent years
with: the state fair, remodeling projects, any-
thing Nathan wanted to do but Steve didn't
want to do.

"Carl, when we are finished with this dis-

cussion, I want you to get up and walk out of
this bar. I don't care how far you have to
walk or drive, but I never want to see your
face again."

Carl sat in silence.
"Is there anything in those instructions

you don't understand?" Nathan asked.

Carl shook his head.
"Did I make any undo requests that you

don't feel you can accomplish?" Nathan
asked.

71/402

Carl shook his head again.
Steve was just staring with a completely

blank expression on his face. He had never
seen Nathan like this.

"Okay, Stevie-baby" Nathan said calmly.

"You also have some action items for this
evening. What I need you to do for me is go
back to my apartment and collect all your
things. Trooper Miller will be going with you.
If you would like this to be more official, we
can get paperwork and get the trooper back
into uniform. Doing things quietly and
quickly will let you save what little self-re-
spect you have left. Do you understand this,
so far?"

"Yeah," Steve said lowering his head.
"Once you have your belongings and

those trinkets that are personally yours and
are of a sentimental nature, you are to clear
out of the apartment. Any big thing that you
and I are buying together — like the TV —
stays. Clear?"

72/402

Steve nodded.
"And when you are packed, I want you to

do the same thing Carl is doing for me. That
means I never want to see you or hear from
you ever again. Heck, you to can go to the
same place and live happily ever after, just
like you and I were going to do."

Everyone paused. Even the jukebox was

quiet and apparently trying to hear the
words being said in the far corner of the
tavern.

"Any questions, Carl?" No questions.
"Any

questions,

Steve?"

Again,

question.

"Trooper Miller, if you would be so kind

as to escort these two people out of my life."

"Let's go, boys," Justin said trying to

sound a little gruffer than usual.

As the two boys left, Nathan caught up to

Justin who was walking slowly toward the
exit.

73/402

"I owe you Big Time for this one," Nathan

said.

"What you owe me is for you to take care

of yourself," Justin replied. "Now all I have
to do is figure out how to do everything you
requested without getting fired."

"Oops, sorry," Nathan said sadly. "All my

other ideas would have gotten me prison
time."

"I understand. It's all good. Just call me

Walker, Texas Ranger," said the trooper as
he walked across the dance floor to the out-
side door.

Nathan stood motionless for several

minutes. Nobody at the bar moved much
either. You could hear the occasional "fuck"
or "bitch" or "Anne Teak indeed" coming
from Miss Eileen Dover in the bathroom, but
there wasn't much else going on.

Nathan sat and felt tears bubbling up.
"Eight years," Nathan cried. "Eight fuck-

ing years."

74/402

Nathan stood up and tried to balance

himself. From the bashing his head received
that morning and the bashing his heart had
received moments ago, Nathan wasn't sure
he could walk. And if he could walk, he didn't
have a clue where he should be going.

The bar was returning to normal, as

though nothing had happened.

Nathan started walking toward the bath-

room. He thought he felt his life slipping
away. Nothing would ever be the same (al-
though he had no idea how true and fast that
was about to happen).

Step by step, Nathan was walking away

from happily-ever-after.

75/402

"Henry the Eighth would have just be-

headed the bastard," said the person in line
for the bathroom. They could hear clanking
from inside, like the drag queen was throw-
ing things around in a fit of anger.

"I'll trade days with the drag queen,"

Nathan said without looking at the guy
standing next to him.

"I've had days like that," said the man,

taking a drag on his cigarette.

"Oh, you have no idea," Nathan correc-

ted, waving the smoke away with his palm.

"True, but neither do you," said the man

in line ahead of Nathan. "Sorry about the
smoke. It's a nasty habit. I'll keep the smoke
away from you."

Talking about smoke was going to be the

last thing Alex and Nathan would say to one
another for a long time. They were going to
stay close to each other for the next several
weeks but rarely, if ever, talking. The reason
was the activity in the bathroom.

"Goddamn spray can," hollered the drag

queen. It wasn't spraying. When she threw
the can against the wall, the sprayer broke.
The can was shooting a cloud of hair spray
now, and Miss Eileen Dover simply finished
fixing her wig.

Once that was done, she pointed the out-

of-control spray into the sink, which was so
small that it sent the spray throughout the
room. Miss Dover picked the can back up
and threw it at the trashcan, but it missed
and flew into the toilet.

"Guggle-gurg," said the can bouncing and

clanking in the toilet. "Glug… glug… shhh."

The drag queen stormed out of the bath-

room with her head held high.

77/402

"Tired old thing," said someone at the

bar.

The man in front of Nathan went into the

bathroom. He walked in and sat on the toilet
and was just about to start with his '#2' when
he dropped his cigarette into the toilet.

It was the last thing Alex Russo re-

membered that day.

Lit cigarettes and hair spray do not work

and play well together. Dropping the cigar-
ette into the toilette was the same as igniting
a bomb strapped to your butt. The explosion
sent Alex and toilet parts in a straight line to
the locked door. The door was flimsy and
barely slowed down the excitement.

When the package reached Nathan, it was

the bathroom door leading the procession
with Alex and pieces of the toilet flying in
close formation.

This time, there was no question that

Nathan would be going to the hospital. The
explosion had broken a leg and thrown a

78/402

shoulder out of its socket. It might have
made the injuries to his head worse, but it
was only by degrees from the car wreck earli-
er. He had a piece of porcelain stuck in his
leg.

Nathan didn't remember anything about

what happened. He was in line and the next
thing he knew, a paramedic was there.

"Did I faint?" Nathan asked, thinking the

airbag had done more damage than he
thought.

"Explosion," said the paramedic.
"The governor, then Steve, now an explo-

sion," he told the paramedic. "If anybody
ever tells me things don't happen in three's,
I'm slapping them."

"I don't know about the governor or

Steve, but… oh, hey, are you the guy that
Governor Moore's limo hit this morning?"
the paramedic asked.

"Yeah."

79/402

"I'm so sorry it happened. The governor

is such a nice man, you know," said the para-
medic. "He goes to church every Sunday and
Wednesday."

"And I go to church lots, too," Nathan

said.

"We are very lucky to have such a nice

man as governor," said the paramedic. Nath-
an thought he was going to be sick and throw
up all over the paramedic.

"You know he's so stupid that he almost

flunked law school?" Nathan asked. "If his
papa didn't pull some strings, he wouldn't
have graduated. Stupid but goes to church:
yeah, that's good qualifications for running a
state."

The paramedic ignored him.
"Hey, how's about something for pain,"

Nathan shouted. "Nice to have a papa who'll
pull strings. Wish I had a father who could
get some some fucking pain meds here...."

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"Do you know your name?" said the

paramedic.

"Nathan Nilsson, and I know it is Friday

too. I know my social security number and
my mother's maiden name. My synapses are
firing off right where they're supposed to be
firing off. I even know the scientific reason
why cats purr," Nathan said with the sound
of a man beaten down by events. "Oh, the
slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,"
said Nathan quoting Hamlet.

"I don't really know what you're saying

over there," the paramedic said from a few
feet away. "But you are stable and on a
gurney, and I have another guy unconscious.
You'll be fine, so let me try to get your friend
stabilized."

"Friend?" Nathan said. "Your uncon-

scious man is a menace that I've never met
before, and I hope never meet again."

He had sent away his lover, and had

asked the trooper to supervise. "My ex-lover

81/402

and my next-lover on assignment together,"
Nathan thought. He heard the trooper in his
mind: "Give it a rest, man. I'm working
here."

Trooper Studly is back? No, just a

fantasy. Nathan smiled. Morphine. He recog-
nized the feeling from surgery he had as a
kid. It told him the paramedic was doing the
best he could with multiple people.

The hallway — or what was left of it —

was getting crowded. Police officers taking
notes and fire fighters with hoses and oxygen
masks were all making sure they all followed
the procedures for exploding toilets in gay
bars. Each person had a clear set of duties in
such a case, and Nathan was impressed with
the way the city government had thought of
everything.

"Where's my button?" Nathan asked in a

slurred sort of way.

"Belly-button is the only button you got

right now," said the paramedic.

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"Naw, pain-killer button. I push it when I

want more stuff."

"We don't give you a button. Hospitals

have buttons. Right now, all you have is me.
I will take care of that for you."

The paramedic talked to himself. Nathan

realized that there must be a microphone
and speaker in the paramedic's ear. The
paramedic was reading medical statistics in-
to the invisible microphone. "Male, Caucasi-
an, 28," said the paramedic.

"How'd you know my age?" Nathan

popped in.

"Concussion," the paramedic continued

saying without even acknowledging Nathan's
question. "Occupation?"

"I make drug-filled hula-hoops for export

to China," Nathan said in a kind of haze.

"Manual labor," said the paramedic.
"No, Manuel works on the shipping

dock," said Nathan through the morphine.

83/402

The paramedic didn't even look: he was used
to people being weird on painkillers.

Another crew of paramedics arrived with-

in a few minutes. The first paramedic saw it
was more than he could handle. He handed
the second crew some written notes, and
they wheeled away the smoker who caused
the explosion.

"Don't worry about me," Nathan said.

"I'm just a crazed leper with rabies, and I'm
not nearly so nice as Governor Dufus."

After a few minutes the dust started set-

tling. In the background, Nathan could hear
Miss Eileen Dover hollering at someone on
her cell phone about how inconvenienced he
was at the show being canceled by some idiot
smoking.

Nathan wondered how much time a judge

would give him if he just took out the drag
queen in a fit of rage. He'll probably get pro-
bation. Most assuredly. He might even get a
commendation from the governor for ridding

84/402

the world of one more child molesting drag
queen and Democrat. Those people are al-
ways child molesters and Democrats, you
know.

In the ride to the hospital, the paramedic

apologized to Nathan: "You know that I had
to work on the other guy first. We almost lost
him, you know."

"Didn't know until now."
"You two friends?" the paramedic asked.
"Never saw him before. May be safer for

everybody if I don't see him again."

"We almost lost that kid tonight, so say a

prayer for him if you're religious."

"Yeah, okay," said Nathan.
"You like cats?" asked the paramedic.
"Not especially. Why"
"You said you knew why cats purr."
"I did?" Nathan asked. He couldn't re-

member because of the morphine. "Oh, yeah:
it's just an old joke, man. Just a joke."

85/402

"So why do cats purr?" asked the

paramedic.

"Cause they can't hum."

86/402

"Oh, honey, did that bigoted, sorry-ex-

cuse for a governor do all this to you?"

"Hi, mom," said Nathan.
"And guess what I have," she asked,

"thanks to your accident with the governor?"

"A famous son, whose picture has been

all over CNN?" Nathan asked.

"Nope."
"The governor's direct cell-phone num-

ber," Nathan said.

"Bingo, son. See, he can be taught,"

Hedda Nilsson said, "regardless of what they
said at the nursery about switching babies on
me"

"Mom," Nathan warned, "do not mess

with me. I'm having a rough life here. All I

have to do is push this red button and an en-
tire truckload of unstable people will come
running into the room, and they'll be carry-
ing dangerous medical equipment."

"You talking about Maurice?" his mother

asked, "'cause he and I go back at least a
dozen years. I knew his mom and dad. He's
the nurse this afternoon. Nice fellow:
Maurice. A bit to the right of me, but nice
anyway. Unitarian, as I recall. Anyway, could
you push that little red button and let me get
caught up with Maurice?"

"Mom, sit."
Nathan should be used to his mother by

now, but he was constantly surprised at how
many people she really knew. Hedda was al-
ways stirring something up or calming
something down. She was more than just a
simple activist: Hedda was more like an
agitator.

Suddenly there were screams in the other

bed in the room. A curtain was blocking the

88/402

view, but something happened that really
hurt. It was a scream you could feel as it
weaved its way across the skin of your arms
and lodged in the throat.

Nathan was grateful he was on his side.

The only thing he had to fight was a series of
heavy plaster casts strung up with guy-wires
and pulleys. The person in the other half of
the hospital room was dealing with major
pain issues.

Eventually the screams turned into a

whimper and finally into quiet sobbing.

Hedda Nilsson crossed herself as she

prayed for the suffering man behind the cur-
tain in the other half of Nathan's shared
room.

Nathan held his palm out toward the un-

seen patient in the other half of the shared
room. He was sending out the white light of
healing compassion to soothe the pain being
felt over there. Nathan was not practicing the
faith-healing of a charismatic Christian, nor

89/402

was he performing any kind of magickal
spell.

His healing light was a technique called

Reiki. Both Nathan and Hedda had studied
forms of this Japanese healing since Nathan
was in high school. Nathan was the more ser-
ious student. He was considered both a
Master and a Teacher in three schools of
Reiki: Usui, Karuna, and Seichim.

Nathan had no idea how Reiki worked,

except that it worked very well. When
someone asked for a "healing," Nathan
would tell them he couldn't heal anything.
He would explain that Reiki was a spiritual
pathway and healing was a side-effect.
However he thought about it, Nathan's en-
ergy was a potent source of healing light.

"Hi, mom," a man whispered as he

peered through the curtains. "Hang on, and
I'll be over in a sec…"

Nathan and his mom heard Maurice talk-

ing to the patient, "I know it hurts, sugar. I'm

90/402

trying to get an air bed down here for you,
but the burn unit is overbooked. It isn't as
bad as it feels... Okay, honey, you're gonna
be just fine."

Maurice appeared on Nathan's side of the

room. "I hate it when I have to do burn vic-
tims," he whispered. "The burn unit upstairs
is much better, but they're slammed right
now, and this one I got didn't get burned
really bad."

"The poor soul," Hedda said crossing

herself.

"Just lays there, you know," Maurice

whispered. Nathan was having a hard time
hearing. "No family I know of. No friends.
Nothing but a guy in a suit what comes see
him a few times. Lawyer, maybe. Trouble of
some kind, I'm guessing."

"How'd it…"
Maurice interrupted, "Can't say. I've

already said so much that I can get fired, but
I know you. His hips were shattered

91/402

completely. Ribs were broken. He was really
a mess, but I think he'll pull through in some
shape or other."

"You hear what that jackass, the gov-

ernor, did to my Nathan this morning?"

"That'uz your kid?" Maurice asked.

"Holy…"

"Yeah," Hedda bragged.
"Shudda-known."
"Then a state trooper kind of adopted

him for the day and helped get him cleaned
up. Then even if he was hurt by that jackass,
he went on to work because they needed
him. I'm so proud."

"And you should be, Mama Nilsson,"

Maurice said.

"Then this explosion thing," she said, not

even mentioning Steve and Carl and the end
of an eight year relationship.

His mother never liked Steve: she didn't

trust him. This time, mother knew best.

92/402

Nathan tried to think if he even told her

about the split with Steve. He couldn't re-
member. "This is your brain. This is a
morphine drip. This is your brain on
morphine," Nathan said to himself as he
pushed the dispensing button.

Hedda Nilsson was Mom to every gay boy

in Dallas. She wasn't a gay groupie or "fag
hag." She just loved her son and all his
friends, and she had almost no fuse before
exploding around anybody who treated a gay
person with anything less than respect.

She met Nathan's dad — Björn Nilsson —

on a trip with Hedda's parents up north to
visit all her cousins and aunts and uncles and
on and on. Björn — a word that means "bear"
in Swedish — was anything but a bear. He
was the wiry and brainy type that we'd call a
nerd today. He was a friend of one of
Hedda's cousins and had nothing physical to
offer, but he swept Hedda off her feet like a
bolt of Thor's lightening.

93/402

Over the next winter, the love-bird-

wanna'be's negotiated their future using
mail. They found out all about each other on
paper and at a distance.

Hedda's family was living in Houston, a

fast-growing city along the Texas gulf coast.
It was hot there, and the air smelled of oil re-
fineries. Between the stench and the mosqui-
toes and the bubbas, she really wanted to
leave Houston.

One night Björn called. Something must

be wrong. The telephone was expensive and
harder to use than it is today. It was a time
where you'd pick up the phone and dial a
zero and tell the operator that you wanted to
make a station-to-station call to Houston.
They didn't have area codes or direct dialing.
Station-to-station was cheaper than person-
to-person because the operator would leave
the line as the remote phone started to ring.
The person-to-person route had the operator
ask for the person on the other end, and

94/402

there was never a charge if the person wasn't
available.

Björn's had to call through a Party Line,

where a whole neighborhood would share a
single line. It took him several tries to find
the line available, and it was making him
nuts.

Once the call went through, Björn pro-

posed marriage. Hedda accepted on two con-
ditions: one, they setup house in North
Texas; and two, they raise their kids in the
Liberal Catholic Church.

"I'm not a cowboy," Björn said, "so I don't

know if I can deal with all the tumbleweed."
Hedda replied that she wasn't a cowgirl. She
said that she had seen tumbleweed only once
in her life, during a vacation trip through
Arizona.

By the end of the phone call, they didn't

settle their differences. Living in Texas and
joining a non-Swedish church were things
Björn would have to think about. Hedda was

95/402

nice about it, but she wasn't ready to budge
on these two points.

"I'm Lutheran like all good Swedes,"

Björn wrote at a later time. "Catholics cannot
be Liberal." Hedda could imagine his Min-
nesota accent saying the words that she was
reading. She took the time to explain that the
Liberal Catholic Church is separate from the
Roman church. She wrote that her church
started in Holland, which was close enough
to Scandinavia to make Björn relax.

Hedda gave in on North Texas, and Björn

agreed to move to South Texas.

They were married at the Liberal Catholic

Church in Houston, and then flew to Min-
nesota for a large Nilsson family reception.

Björn never really felt adjusted to the

Texas culture. He hated how all the 'hicks'
messed up his name. Some tried to pro-
nounce the "j" like the one in "joy." Others
gave it more syllables than it deserved:
"bee'yoh'run." It made his skin crawl.

96/402

The Nilsson family was topsy-turvy:

mama wore the pants and had the testoster-
one. Papa was an engineer, with a quiet —
even stoic — exterior. Mama was a lawyer,
and no political cause went un-protested.

And baby made three: Nathan was never

what you would call macho. He was tender
but never overly effeminate. He loved fash-
ion but never played with dolls. In element-
ary school, he was a magnet for bullies.
Nathan was taunted and beaten through ele-
mentary school.

It was an embarrassment to Björn. He al-

ways felt as though his genes were defective
somehow. No Nilsson he knew ever had a
limp-wrist. He was glad to be stuck in a sew-
er like Texas because his family would never
be caught dead there.

To everyone who knew him, Björn was a

typical engineer: cool, calm, and calculating.
Within that nerdy, pocket-pen-protector

97/402

body was a building fire of resentment and
shame.

98/402

"Flowers," Hedda said to Nathan, walking

into her son's hospital room. "Who sent…
that damn right-wing governor tries to kill
you, and now he's trying to soothe you so you
don't sue? Flowers from the governor? I will
never live this down. I'll…"

"Let it go, mommy," Nathan said as he

tried to rework the cantilevers holding up his
right leg.

Hedda went into Mother-Mode and

worked on the wires to make her son more
comfortable. It was like she was handling the
machinery in the hospital without thinking
about them. As she manhandled the pulleys,
she kept piling it on Gov. Moore. "He's more
like Gov. 'Less' to me. How'd he ever get a

name like 'Moore?' It's false advertising.
Flowers, I have half a mind to…"

"Thanks," Nathan said. "That's much bet-

ter. Keep your voice down, mom. The guy
over there had a rough night. He's in a lot of
pain."

"Did he keep you up? 'Cause if he's

screaming all night, I can get you into a
private room."

"It's fine, mommy…"
When the door opened, Nathan figured it

would be a nurse to make his unseen room-
mate scream or to fidget with Nathan's ma-
chinery. Instead, a familiar face peeked tent-
atively around the curtain dividing the room.

"Hi, Justin," said Hedda.
"Hi,

Justin?"

Nathan

asked.

"You

know…"

"Sure," the state trooper said. "Everybody

knows Mama Hedda, don't they?"

"Apparently," Nathan said.

100/402

"He came to visit you yesterday," Hedda

explained. "I was here on a lunch break from
work, and he popped in to see how you were
doing."

"Oh, that's just precious," Nathan said

mockingly. "Did she quiz you on whether or
not you have Scandinavian blood?"

"Not so much, no," the trooper said. "We

mainly yakked about politics."

"Oh, I see," Nathan shrugged, "which

means she did all the yakking, and you did
all the listening."

"He's getting his spirit back," the trooper

said.

"And on that note, mom's got to get back

to work saving the world from itself," Hedda
said, collecting her things.

"She's a lawyer, you know," Nathan said.
"A great crusader for truth and justice, I

hear."

"You boys behave now," Hedda said, ig-

noring her son. She kissed both of them on

101/402

the cheek. "Justin, keep at least one foot on
the floor."

"Mom," Nathan complained.
"Bye, boys."
"I like her," Justin said.
"You can have her. Cheap. And I'll throw

in a free toaster if it'll help seal the deal."

"I heard that," Hedda said from down the

hall.

"I'm a Type-B personality, trapped in a

Type-A lifestyle," Nathan said.

Justin and Nathan talked about family

and bars and Coming Out.

Nathan was still getting used to Dallas.

He grew up in Houston. He and his mother
came to Dallas after Nathan's father died. It
was to be a fresh start. At the time, his moth-
er told him that they needed to do a "control-
alt-delete on life." Justin understood the
phrase, which told Nathan that Justin was a
computer user.

102/402

The boy in the other half of the room laid

in silence and listened. He was face down on
a special bed because of the broken hip and
legs and because of the second- and third-
degree burns on his butt, back, and legs.

103/402

"You have a lot of friends," said the un-

seen boy in the other hospital bed later that
day.

"Who's that?" Nathan asked.
"Hi, I'm Alex, and I think that I know all

about you and your entire family."

"Sorry."
"Don't go being sorry for family," Alex

said. "It's the one thing I ain't never gonna
have."

Nathan let the conversation drift into

silence.

When the nurse, Maurice, came in for his

morning rounds, Nathan asked him to pull
back the curtains a little.

"Z'at okay with you, sugar?" Maurice

asked Alex.

What Nathan had no way of knowing was

that Alex's backside was in all kinds of ma-
chinery, trying to get his burns healed
enough

perform

double

hip

replacement.

"It's just ducky. I never was one to be

bashful, specially about my ass," said Alex.

Nathan thought he had heard the voice

before but couldn't place it. When the cur-
tains were drawn, he knew.

"Hey, you're the guy from…" Nathan said.
"All you can see is my ear and hair," Alex

said from under the bandages. He was face
down in a kind of doughnut pillow because
his lower back, upper legs, and butt were in-
jured in the hair spray explosion at the bar.
In addition to the burns, the bones in his up-
per legs and hip were broken or shattered.
Alex had lost so much blood that he almost
died at the bar and was healing slowly.

105/402

"I'm really sorry about what happened,"

Alex admitted. "It wasn't my fault really, but
I regret the whole…"

"My name is…"
"You're Nathan," Alex said. "Yeah, I

know.

"Oops, you could hear everything?"
"Most everything. It's just a curtain, for

God's sake, and it don't even go to the floor."

"Well, it is nice to meet you… um…"
"Alex. Alex Russo."
"Thanks," said Nathan. "Hi, Alex."
"I like your mom. She's a tell-it-like-it-is

kind of gal. I can tell, and I like it. You always
know where she stands on something."

"Yeah, a little hard to take sometimes,"

Nathan admitted.

"Listen, dude," Alex said. "I ain't got no

family. When my old man caught me and the
kid next door doin' each other in the base-
ment, he beat me until I could hardly walk.

106/402

Then he chased that boy out' the house,"
Alex said.

"That's tough to take…"
"Oh, that ain't the half of it. When it got

to me, he threw me out too. Only this time,
he literally threw me. I went sailing through
a basement window. I got scars all over."

"Man…"
"Beat me to a pulp, then threw me out

like garbage. I ain't seen that asshole since
that day. He dudn't want me, and it's mutual
right back at him."

"Your mother? Didn't she…"
"Nothing. Not a damn thing. She says she

is a 'good Catholic' — whatever that means.
Oh, I know, it means the old man can toss
kids around whenever they want and then go
next door an bugger the neighbor's wife.
Yeah, they're 'good Catholics' and give
money every Sunday."

107/402

"Next time my mom comes," Nathan

said, "I'll introduce you to her. There's plenty
of Hedda Nilsson to go around. Plenty."

"Deal."
"Hey, Alex," Nathan said. "Maybe the ex-

plosion blew some of the scars off."

"Sheee'ut," Alex said.
After awhile, Alex picked up the conver-

sation again: "Who's that guy that's come a
couple of times to see you? Name's
something like Justice…"

"Justin," Nathan said. "He's a state

trooper."

"You two a number?"
"No, we met at a traffic wreck recently."
"I know that voice," Alex admitted. "I

think I may have done him at some point.
I'm bad with names and only so-so with
voices. If I see his dick, I'll remember. One
thing you never forget is a dick."

108/402

"I'll keep that in mind," Nathan said

blushing.

That evening when Hedda stopped by the

hospital after work, Nathan was nowhere to
be seen.

"They've stolen my boy," she screamed.
"Easy over there, lady. Don't blow a gas-

ket," Alex said. "They got him over doin'
some kind of test or somethin'. I didn't pay
any attention to what the deal was because I
didn't know you'd be asking."

"Oh, I'm sorry," Hedda said pulling back

the curtain. "You were so quiet that I didn't
even know you were here."

"I've been here all along. I'z hurt in the

same explosion that put Nathan in here."

"Uh-huh," she thought out loud. "So

you've been eavesdropping on everything
I've said to my son?"

"If sitting here unable to move is eaves-

dropping, then I'm guilty as charged. Only I

109/402

found that I like you's guys there. You stand
up for each other. I like that."

Hedda could only see some hair and an

ear with piercings all around, Alex's face was
down in a doughnut-shaped pillow.

The only part of his body that he could

move was an arm, and even that hurt. The
hospital had everything else clamped down
to prevent movement.

Hedda made the Sign of the Cross as she

snapped into Mother-to-the-Universe Mode:
"Do you need anything, honey?"

"You callin' me bee vomit?"
"Huh?" Hedda said, assuming she didn't

hear correctly.

"You called me 'honey' as second ago.

That's stuff bees vomit in their hive. You call-
in' me regurgitated pollen or something?"

"Oh, you're playing with me."
"You not so dumb as Nathan says."

110/402

"Hi," said Hedda, reaching out her hand.

"It is really nice to meet you."

Then she realized that the boy was in no

condition to be shaking her hand so she
pulled it back embarrassed.

"Most folks just call me Hedda, or Mama

Hedda."

"What's the governor call you?"
"He'd best call me Mrs. Nilsson," she

said, with a devilish grin, "if he knows what's
good for him."

Alex chuckled, which jostled some broken

bones. A few presses on the morphine button
fixed the pain for awhile.

"Stroke. Stroke." The familiar voice came

from quite a distance down the hall.

"Stroke." It was Nathan giving paddling

orders to the orderly pushing his gurney
down the hallway.

Once they were in the room, Hedda

jumped in: "Honey, don't use the word

111/402

'stroke' in a hospital. It isn't a funny word
here."

Nathan noticed the open curtain.
"I see you have met Mommy Dearest,"

said Nathan.

"Yeah, I like her."
"I'm happy for you, squirt," Nathan said.

"Hey, good news: I'm out of here tomorrow.
Crutches for awhile, but I don't need to be in
bed."

"Oh, that's wonderful, son," Hedda said.

"Justin's going to be happy to see you. He's
asked about you almost every day."

"He's a nice man, mom, but that's as far

as it is ever going to go."

"You just take care of yourself, dear," she

said as she gathered her things.

"And you stay away from Justin," Nathan

warned. "He is not husband material for me,
so don't go work on him."

"Of course not, dear."

112/402

"I know that reply," Nathan said. "He's

not my type, and I'm not his."

"Of course not, son."
"Have you invited him over? If I get

home, and the trooper is camped out in the
house, you are a dead woman. And there's no
jury in the world…"

"Chill, dude," Alex demanded, telling

Nathan that he liked being around a mother
because he never really had one.

"Mama Hedda?" Alex said.
"Yes, Alex."
"You can set me up with Justin, I mean if

Nathan isn't interested."

"I'll let him know, Alex," said Hedda with

a wink.

"Shadchen!" Nathan snapped. It's the

Yiddish word for a matchmaker or marriage
broker.

113/402

Before she left, she drew back the curtain

separating the boys. She tied the curtain in a
knot, so the orderlies wouldn't close it again.

"Shalom, Mama Hedda," said Alex. "You

can be my matchmaker any time you want."

"Shalom," Hedda said.
"Namasté, mama," Nathan said.
"Well, are y'all international?" Maurice

said at the door. He was coming to check on
Nathan and clean Alex's wounds again.

The boys were quiet for a long time after

Hedda left. The only noises were the clanks
and ticks of a hospital in motion. From time
to time, the blood-pressure armband around
Alex's arm would tighten to take one of its
automated readings.

"You Jewish?" Nathan asked.
"No, why?"
"You

knew

that

'Shadchen'

means

'matchmaker,' and most people wouldn't un-
derstand Yiddish."

114/402

"New York. I grew up in Brooklyn around

Manhattan Beach… Brighton Beach... then
Jersey. You just learn a little Yiddish. You?"

"Me? Jewish?" Nathan said. "No, Liberal

Catholic. I don't know where I learned to un-
derstand a little Yiddish."

"Liberal?" Alex laughed. "That's a new

one. A Catholic who says he's Liberal."

"I'm not a Roman Catholic. I'm in a whole

different church, where it's okay to be gay
and stuff."

"I gotta go get cut open again soon," Alex

said.

"Nothing about that sounds fun."
"I'm getting new hips, they say."
"What's wrong with…"
"Shattered. Both 'em. Butt's been so

burned up that they couldn't operate."

"You've been lying over there with two

broken hips all this time?"

115/402

"Yeah, and a cracked rib and leg-bones of

some sort."

"And here I thought your butt was up as a

kind of advertisement," Nathan said.

"Come on over, if you think you can

handle a real man," Alex boasted.

"Your parents been here to visit?" Nathan

asked.

"They don't care if I die," Alex snapped.

"Fuck no, they ain't been here. Wouldn't
even interrupt dinner long enough to go to
my funeral."

"That's not right," Nathan said.
"Fuck 'em," Alex said defensively.
"Sorry."
"For what?"
"I stepped into a sensitive topic. I didn't

mean to."

"Fuck 'em," Alex repeated.
After several minutes of silence, Nathan

heard the muted sounds of Alex crying.

116/402

The tough guy wasn't so tough on the in-

side. So far as Nathan could tell, his room-
mate had nobody to call family in this life.

Slowly the boys drifted off to sleep. Alex

had the help of a morphine drip, so he was
the first one asleep.

The hospital became quiet. Silence in the

room was punctuated only by the sounds of
Alex trying to keep his painful cries as soft as
possible.

The next morning, Alex woke first. He

hollered over to Nathan: "Dude, you snored
big time last night."

"I'm not a dude," came the reply of an un-

familiar voice.

Nathan was gone. He had left the hospital

without so much as a good-bye. Alex was
used to that treatment. Fuck him. He was
just a girly-boy anyway. Alex didn't need
anybody like that around.

"So, how long you been in love with that

Nathan person?" the woman asked. Alex

117/402

pulled his head out of the doughnut pillow
on his hospital bed. It was hard to move with
all the body casts and burns on his back, but
he had healed just enough to twist his head
to one side to see that his new roommate was
about a thousand years old.

"I'm not in love with him. I mean, what

gives you the idea that…"

"Oh, for God's sake, child," said the wo-

man, "all you did is talk about him since I got
here this morning. Sleep-talking, I guess."

"I don't…"
"Oh, the hell you don't," she said. "It was

Nathan this and Nathan that… until I almost
puked. There's nothing worse that two love-
birds before they get hitched."

"Can't get hitched in this state. Nathan's a

guy," Alex said through the curtain. "If your
ears aren't too far gone, you'll hear I'm a guy
too."

118/402

"Honey, I'm in 'cause my body's eat up

with cancer," said the woman. "I'm not here
'cause I'm deaf."

Alex didn't answer for the longest time.

Then he said, "Yeah, part of me misses him."

"Let me guess which part," said the old

woman.

"Granny," Alex said, "you got some

mouth on you… in the gutter and all… you
got grandkids you kiss with those lips?"

"I love it when I hit the old nail on the

head, you know," she said. "You mean to tell
me that you didn't even know you was stuck
on him?"

"Hadn't thought much about," Alex said

into his doughnut pillow. "Hadn't even given
it much… dudn't matter: he's gone and it's
the last I'll see of him."

"'cept in your dreams," the old woman

added.

119/402

The old woman pushed the Call button,

and a nurse's voice came through the speak-
er: "May I help you?"

"Cold in here," hollered the woman. "I'm

freezing and y'all are trying to starve me to
death. Where's breakfast?"

"I'll be there with a blanket," came the

tinny voice through the speaker. With a click,
the voice was gone.

Nathan was gone. Mama Hedda was

gone. Trooper Justin was gone. All that was
left was Alex and a crabby thousand year old
woman with a foul mouth and an even fouler
disposition.

As they waited for breakfast, Alex just

wiped all those people out of his life. Nobody
to talk to. Nobody to love. Nobody to hang
out with.

Alex sobbed. A hospital full of people can

be the loneliest place in the world.

120/402

"Honey," hollered the woman, "we gotta

get you on more liquids if you're gonna lie
there and cry all the time."

For the first time, Alex chuckled.
That old woman had nailed him good.

When the body isn't working right, not hav-
ing family or friends makes the soul hurt. A
healthy Alex could take care of himself, but
none of his self-reliance was working.

Testosterone doesn't help when your hips

are shattered. A tough-boy attitude doesn't
help when your butt is in a sling. Family
could have helped. Friends could have
helped. Alex had none of those. Alex only
had himself.

"Friggin' so-called friends," he said.
The woman thought about that and said,

"I heard some actress say once… I think it
was that woman who was with Bogart…"

"Lauren...," Alex volunteered.

121/402

"Lauren Becall, yeah," said the woman.

"She said in some movie that if you gonna
use the F-word to go for the gold."

"Huh?"
"You said 'friggin,' honey. It isn't what

you were wantin' to say, I doubt."

"Yeah, but there's a lady present."
"No lady here," said the woman, "just an

old hick from a ranch outside of town a
piece. So say what you mean. I'll be dead
soon anyway, so I won't be around to tattle."

Alex laughed and said, "Okay, fuckin'

friends."

"Good for you, boy. Good for you."
"Hey, squirt," said a familiar voice com-

ing into the room.

"You Nathan?" hollered the woman.
"Yes, ma'am," said Nathan with a twang

almost as thick as the woman's.

122/402

"They call me Bonny," said the woman.

"I'm in here to make life a living hell for your
sweetheart there…"

Nathan looked at Alex but all he could see

was Alex's hand move toward the woman
with a one-finger salute. The rest of Alex was
covered by sheets and restraints.

"Okay," Nathan said, "am I interrupting

something here? I can wait outside."

"I'll be dead by the time you come back,"

said the woman.

"What are you doing here?" Alex asked. "I

thought you blew out of this hole."

"You need adult supervision," Nathan

said. Alex showed him the same finger as he
showed the woman.

Nathan explained that he was temporar-

ily unemployed. His boss had to hire some-
body during Nathan's recovery. It let Nathan
spend extra time with Alex.

"Two boys in love," said Bonny from the

other bed. "Ain't life grand. And you're way

123/402

too cute, honey. You bein' gay is a real
waste."

"Alex," Nathan said, "have you been

telling stories here?"

"No, man," Alex said into the doughnut

pillow. "Woman's out freelancin' with no
facts to back up her stories."

"That's a load of crap," said the woman.

"He'ze a talkin' 'bout you in his sleep all
night last night."

"She's got dementia," said Alex, "and

hearing things."

Mama Hedda had dropped Nathan off at

the hospital on her way to work. The boys
spent the day together. It was the first time
they could talk without hollering all the way
across the room from one hospital bed to
another.

Nathan wasn't able to move well. His ribs

were wrapped, one leg was in a cast, and the
other leg still had a large bandage from being
impaled by flying porcelain from the

124/402

bathroom. Using crutches isn't as easy as it
looks.

The boys didn't talk about love or rela-

tionships. They didn't talk about much of
anything. They just enjoyed hanging out
together.

Every hour or so a nurse came to wipe

down or clean Alex's burned tush. Nathan
took over grooming duties. He combed
Alex's hair and used a washcloth to clean
Alex's face, neck, and arms. This was unfa-
miliar ground for Alex, but he liked the ten-
derness and attention.

Right after lunch, Alex's doctor came to

look things over.

"Looks like you're healed enough that I

can get a specialist in here to fix those
bones," said the burn doctor. "Tomorrow
work for you?"

"I ain't going no-place," said Alex.
"Nurse," said the doctor into a cell phone,

"let's get Mr. Russo — 308-A — on Dr.

125/402

Tamiel's calendar… no, as early as tomorrow
if she has time and we've got O.R…. double
hip… go ahead and schedule the x-ray now."

The doctor put the phone in his pocket

and said, "You're all set. Dr. Tamiel is one of
the best bone doctors in the country. You'll
like her. She will want to see you before the
surgery."

"I hope so," said Alex.
"What she really wants to see is pictures

of your mid-section."

"I'd like that too," said Nathan. Naturally

Alex's finger came out and stood at attention,
pointing to the ceiling.

"What I'm saying," the doctor said, "is

that she won't spend much time with you be-
fore the surgery. It isn't like she doesn't care.
She'll be spending more time looking at your
x-rays than sitting here with you."

"Not much for bedside manners, I guess,"

Alex said.

126/402

"I just wanted to warn you," said the burn

doctor. "You couldn't buy a better surgeon,
though. Okay?"

Alex just laid still.
Nathan said, "It'll be fine. He's probably

asleep from the morphine drip. Hey, can I
wire myself into that drip?"

The doctor spun around and left the

room without answering. It was not the first
time he'd heard the line.

"If I only had a nickel for every time I've

heard that..." said the doctor.

"You'd be no richer than you are today,

Dr. Warbucks," Nathan said.

Alex was out cold, so Nathan just sat and

held his hand.

An hour or so later, a man in a white lab

coat walked in with a clipboard.

"Alice'aaan…"
"Alessandro," Nathan helped.
"Yeah, Mr. Russo," said the man.

127/402

"He's napping," said Nathan.
"I need to get him to sign a release form

for surgery."

"Here," Nathan said, "I'll sign it."
"Who are you?" said the man.
"His significant-other," Nathan lied so

Alex could sleep.

"No, I need to get a 'real' relative to sign,"

said the man.

"Who the fuck are you," Alex said from

under his doughnut pillow, not as asleep as
everyone thought.

"I'm Dr. Jamison with release papers for

you to sign."

"What kind of doctor?" Alex said.
"I'm an intern," said Dr. Jamison.
"Oh, I see," Alex said. "Well, Doctor In-

tern, if you don't want my lover here to sign
papers because he isn't a real relative, then
why don't you run along and play with the

128/402

other interns. You send in a 'real doctor' and
you will get your papers signed."

"But, sir…"
"Get the fuck out of my room," said Alex,

raising his voice.

The intern left.
Bonnie started clapping. "Boy," she said,

"you got some spunk. You do. And when you
get started with the F-word, you are solid
gold all the way."

Nathan looked over toward the old wo-

man with a confused expression on his face.

"Inside joke," said Bonnie.
"Lovers?" Nathan asked Alex.
"Don't push it," Alex said, "but thanks for

playing along."

129/402

Alessandro Russo was a streetwise kid.

He was self-contained and self-sufficient,
and he didn't want anything from anyone.
He learned to be self-reliant and self-sup-
porting when his father kicked him out of the
house after catching him having sex with an-
other boy his own age. He had lived on the
streets since he was 14.

Alex, as he liked to be known, was self-

made. When he got hungry, he turned a
trick. It paid the bills. In fact, he was cute
enough that he probably made as much
money as Luigi Russo, his father. Maybe
more.

Alex told himself that hustling tricks was

just as honest a day's work as anything else
he could do.

Here's the weird part: one day when he

was 18, he bought a scratch-off lottery card
from the Seven-Eleven and ended up with a
quick 25-thousand dollars. After taxes, it was
less than that, but it was still more money
than he'd ever seen before.

Alex knew the streets in Dallas could get

cold in the winter, so he needed a fund for
those nights. He decided to stash some of the
money and use the rest to get rich in the
stock market. It couldn't be as tough as spot-
ting the difference between a meal ticket and
a vice cope. Nobody working the streets had
a clean police record, but Alex did. He was
never busted for doing anything, so he
figured he had a good head for figuring stuff
out.

The first and second stock brokers he

went to wouldn't have anything to do with

131/402

him. One had their guard chase him out of
the office.

The third place acted like they wanted his

money, but they made it clear that they
didn't really like his "kind of person." Alex
showed himself out.

"Screw it," Alex said as he left.
At the fourth brokerage firm, Alex met

Kevin Lansky. History was about to be made.

"Here's the deal," Alex said. "I don't like

banks. They want my money so's they can
make money for themselves. I'm the one that
ought-a be making something from my own
dough."

"Stock market is tricky sometimes," Kev-

in said.

"Yeah? Well, I can be tricky too," Alex

said.

"Okay, let's see if I can come up with

something that you can be comfortable
with," Kevin said in a calm kind of way.

132/402

Kevin figured correctly that Alex didn't

trust many people.

"You're money's yours. If you will let me

create what's called a brokerage account, it
doesn't do anything until you say so.
Follow?"

"Yeah, so far."
"It keeps your money safe. If you put your

money into a brokerage account, it's always
yours. Nobody can lose it or spend it, except
you… and about a 10-dollar monthly fee."

"Catch," Alex said. "There's always a

catch."

"It's what pays the rent here," Kevin said.

"We're not a charity. But if you're as smart as
I think you are, you'll be earning lots more
than the 10-bucks."

"You panderin' on me?" Alex asked with

squinted eyes.

"Moi?" Kevin asked.
Alex liked this guy. He was a straight-

shooter so far.

133/402

"From that brokerage account," Kevin

continued, "you can move your money
around."

"Like shuffleboard?" Alex asked.
"Sort of. You can buy stocks, which is like

owning a piece of a company. You can buy
bonds, which is like lending money to a com-
pany with interest. You can even buy futures,
which is a way to gamble on what you think
something is going to cost at some future
date."

"And where do you fit in?" Alex asked.
"Wherever you want me to fit in," Kevin

said.

"You gonna be my 'future' or something?

'Cause I don't need nobody buttin' into my
stuff. If that's what you plan, I'll say thanks
right here and head off somewhere else."

"Points noted. If you want advice on a

company, I'll either have knowledge or at
least a good cover story."

134/402

Alex liked the cover story joke. At least

this guy can loosen up.

"If you want to do things on your own,"

Kevin continued, "you can read financial
publications. We have a library of reports
that we keep current, and you can always
park yourself in there to read up on
something."

"Roll-you-own fortune?"
"Something like that."
"And you don't touch my money."
"Right."
"That's a crock. You ain't gonna live on no

10-bucks a month from my money. How do
you make money?" Alex said as a kind of
challenge.

"When you buy stocks or bonds or sell

them, I get a fee."

"Big?"
"Ten to twenty bucks per transaction, de-

pending on how much money you're

135/402

spending. It doesn't look that big to me. I'm
worth a lot more than what you pay me."

"Good answer," said Alex. "I like you. You

shoot straight with me. So all the time I own
stock, you don't keep charging me?"

"Right," Kevin said. "Let's do this. How's

about we open you a brokerage account now.
Give me your check, and I'll get the paper-
work going. If you don't like the deal, you
can have all your money back. The money
will be safer than carrying it around in your
pocket."

"Strings?"
"None."
"Sold, where do I sign?" Alex said as he

handed over the folded check from the
lottery.

"Sign nothing now," Kevin said. "It's

lunch time, and I'm hungry. My treat. We'll
sign agreements and get you to endorse the
check later. For now, your word's good
enough for me."

136/402

Kevin walked away with the check. Alex

figured (correctly) that Kevin and the people
in the back office were making sure that the
check was good and that Alex was the person
he claimed to be.

"It's in the works," Kevin said, returning

to his desk with a yellow receipt for the
money. "How's about I buy lunch for both of
us."

It was the first time in his life that some-

body had treated him with respect. Kevin
considered Alex an actual member of the hu-
man race. It was probably an act on Kevin's
part to make money, but Alex liked it. If Kev-
in was working him, Alex let him. Kevin was
a smooth operator, and Alex admired that.

After lunch, Alex was pumped up about

stocks and bonds and futures. Kevin tried to
keep Alex on an even course, but keeping the
teenager away from the risky side of the mar-
ket was going to be a battle Kevin couldn't
win.

137/402

"Okay," said Alex. "You got Barron's and

The Journal and the Morningsides?"

"Morningstar."
"Whatever. And I just read them until I

get waxy-eyed and turn blue in the face, and
when I'm ready to go, all my money will still
be there and ready to invest?"

"Absolutely, but there's a catch…"
"Always is," Alex frowned.
"It's more of a warning than a catch.

Everybody makes mistakes. Me, you, ex-
perts. No exceptions. Barron's is a big finan-
cial newspaper today. But did you know the
day before the huge stock crash back in 1929,
Barron's had headlines saying everybody
should buy stocks. The day before the crash,
they said buy. Don't ever take something
anybody says as the gospel truth."

"Where do I start getting warm fuzzy feel-

ings about you?" Alex asked.

138/402

"You don't need them. Get warm feelings

about yourself. Learn where your own com-
fort level is and trust it."

"Man," Alex said, "you know all my but-

tons. I like you."

"Just doing my job. Just doing my job,"

Kevin said as they walked toward the broker-
age firm's library. "Whatever you see, and
whatever you read… assume it's no more
than partly true. And never put all your
money into one place."

As Kevin closed the door, he said, "Come

get me if you need anything."

"Okie-dokie," Alex said.
For the next few weeks, Alex poured

through every report he could find. For some
reason, he understood the charts and the
numbers. He spotted some things that he
didn't like and figured the corporation mak-
ing the report was up to something.

Alex made notes of a company's earnings

and stock price and news stories. After a

139/402

week, he had a kind of formula. After a
second week, Alex had watched his formula
work on paper.

During his third week in the stock

broker's library, Alex ran his formula on a
computer maker who had announced a new
widget that Alex thought was cool. His notes
and street-sense told him to make his first
purchase. He had noticed the widget an-
nouncement but never saw any bump in the
stock price for that company, so Alex thought
the stock price was lower than what was the
fair price. He filled up several pages of a
yellow-pad checking and re-checking his
number. The formula said BUY. Once his
mind was made up, he was ready for action.
To Alex, it was a done-deal.

"Betting window open?" Alex said.
"What market does Mr. Rockefeller want

to corner?" Kevin said.

"Sun Microsystems. I want to do 12-thou-

sand on Sun… to win, place, or show," Alex

140/402

added the horse racing term because he was
more familiar with the racetrack than with
stocks.

Kevin did his best to talk him into

something more diversified, like a mutual
fund. Alex would have none of it.

"Damn the torpedoes?" Kevin asked.
"Fuck torpedoes," Alex said. "Sun Mi-

crosystems, 12-big 'uns. If it's a problem, I
can go down the street to someplace else."

"Not a problem," Kevin said. He typed a

few things on his keyboard and said, "Wait…
wait… it's done. I have your confirmation
number. You just bought 857 shares of
SUNW for a total of 11-988."

"That fast?" Alex asked.
"Yup," Kevin said. "I think you're crazy

for doing this, but I'll shut up."

"It'll work out better if you do," Alex said.

"I know people on the inside, you know."

"So?"

141/402

"Ah, but they know people on the

outside."

"Point noted."
Alex kept a close watch on SUNW

throughout the winter of that year. He was
an almost daily visitor to the library room
where Kevin worked. If anybody objected to
his tattered clothes, tattooed arms, and
pierced-everything,

they

kept

themselves.

One day, Alex walked out of the library

and told Kevin to sell Sun.

"Man, it's going up like a rocket," Kevin

protested. "You sure?"

"Remind me again why I talk to you?"
"I know. I know… pushing computer but-

tons," Kevin said as he made clicks and ticks
come out of his keyboard. "Going… going…
Man!"

"What's wrong?" Alex gasped.

142/402

"You just turned 12-thousand into

53-thousand," Kevin said as he shook Alex's
hand.

They laughed together.
"Come on, Warbucks," Kevin said.

"Today you're buying my lunch."

"With what?" Alex asked. "You got all my

money."

"None?" gasped Kevin. "You have no

money except what's in your account here?
Okay, I'm buying, but after lunch we have to
get you so you can function in society."

"Don't want to really."
"So?" Kevin said. "You made more money

in a couple of months that most guys turn in
several years of breaking their backs at a ma-
chine shop. The least you can do is learn how
to get around in society."

"K," said Alex meaning 'okay.'
"Where do you live?"
"Here and there," Alex admitted.

143/402

"You really are a 'Rainman' when it

comes to stocks."

After lunch, they walked back into the

brokerage office.

"Oh, my God!" Kevin said looking at the

stock ticker up in lights on a big wall in the
brokerage. "Did you see that?"

"What?"
"Sun tanked when we were at lunch."
"It's down, you mean?"
"Yeah, way down. Did you know

something you aren't telling me."

Alex just grinned. Kevin taught Alex how

to interpret the ticker tape, a band of lights
that ran the entire width of the broker's of-
fice. The scrolling numbers told everyone
who knew the code what was selling and for
how much.

Kevin kept an eye on the stock Alex just

sold . Over the next few months, it slid and
fell and kicked and fell some more. He didn't

144/402

know Alex's secret, but somehow the over-
pierced kid knew the exact time to sell
SUNW.

It was a talent that Alex couldn't explain.

When he read numbers and corporate fil-
ings, he could sense what a company should
be worth. If the company was selling for a
higher price than it should, Alex figured the
company

was

blowing

smoke

about

something. He stayed away from companies
that he thought were being sneaky.

Sometimes he saw a company whose

stock was way below what Alex thought it
should be.

Alex would buy a stock and make a nota-

tion in his logbook of what he figured should
be the 'real' or 'fair' price. When the stock
reached the fair price, Alex sold.

He was never greedy. He never followed

the conventional wisdom of 'buy low/sell
high.' Instead, Alex bought bargains: 'buy
low/sell fair' as he called it.

145/402

Alex never looked back. When he decided

to sell the SUNW stock, he put it out of his
mind. SUNW was out of his mind, and Alex
had moved onto other stocks and bonds.

At first, Kevin tried to get him into a mu-

tual fund that is more diversified. Alex would
just shrug his shoulders and say, "I'm having
too much fun screwing corporate America."

Alex wasn't always able to hit a stock's

peak within a half hour like he did with
SUNW, but he always came close. He could
smell a valley and a peak, and he almost nev-
er lost money on a stock.

At the end of the first year of trading,

Alex had turned his 12-thousand dollars into
almost a million. By the second year, it was
15-million. After five years, he was listed as
one of the wealthiest men in Dallas.

One day the entire market went sliding

downward and took Alex with it. Nothing
was making money, and it didn't make any
sense. He remembered Kevin warning him

146/402

about days like that. Alex just stuck to his
books and notes.

He asked Kevin about real estate one day.

Without tipping his hand, Alex found out
how to buy rental property. This young man
with millions of dollars was renting a dumpy
apartment in a rat-infested part of Dallas.

"You want to invest to make money on

real estate or buy something to live in?" Kev-
in asked.

"Both."
"Figures," Kevin said. "You work angles

on everything?"

"Not sex… well, not any more."
"T-M-I," Kevin said holding up his hand.

"Do not give me any more information on
that."

"What-ever, man," Alex said shrugging

his shoulders.

Kevin said he knew a lawyer in the same

office building as the brokerage firm. The

147/402

lawyer handled all sorts of legal matters, in-
cluding real estate.

"He'd love to have somebody as famous

as you for a…"

"No," Alex said. "I ain't famous…"
"Are too."
"Ain't neither."
"Are too," Kevin said. "Whether you like

it or not, you and your crystal ball have
turned the whole stock market on its ears."

"I'm leaving."
"Why?"
"'Cause you' been blabbin' 'bout me

somewhere," Alex said. "If I'm famous like
you say, it didn't come from me."

"Nothing came from me, Alex. Nothing

came from anyone in this office. We don't
talk about clients: period."

Kevin explained about reports that cor-

porations have to make about major
stockholders.

148/402

"No upside to talking," Kevin said. "What

would I say? I don't know what you do in the
library. I don't know your secret. I'm just an
order taker, and talking to anybody wouldn't
be good for business."

"You got that right," Alex said. "No good

for health either."

A journalist probably put things together,

and that started the legend of Alessandro
Russo. Kevin promised that 'Alex' was com-
pletely anonymous, but his full name was
very well known from the stories.

"I never saw nothin' in any of my library

readings," Alex said. "You censoring stuff?"

"No," Kevin said. "If you read the Dallas

Morning News or Texas Monthly, you'd see
your name in print. You stick to numbers
and charts that make most people go cross-
eyed."

"Don't pander to me, dude," Alex said

with squinted eyes. "Do I need to start wear-
ing disguises or something?"

149/402

"No offense, Alex, but you come in here

looking like the cleaning crew."

"No offense taken. Anyways I met your

cleanin' guys: they're all cool."

"Those writing stories about Alessandro

Russo will not be looking for somebody with
15 rings in one ear."

"Eighteen," Alex corrected, "if you add in

the three from this other ear."

"Whatever," Kevin said.
"Okay, that's pandering. I know what

pandering sounds like. Don't you be 'what-
evering' me, or I'll…."

"You want that lawyer?"
"Yeah, but only if he knows how to keep

his mouth shut."

"I'll make the call," Kevin said.
"And I'll be with my kids in the library,"

Alex said as he walked toward the brokerage
library room. "Come get me when he can see
me."

150/402

It wasn't three minutes.
"Let's go," Kevin said.
"That'uz fast."
"Told you."
As they rode up the elevator to the 23d

floor, Kevin explained the whole idea of law-
yers keeping things private.

Jordan Mosley was standing in the elev-

ator landing waiting for his new client.

"Hi, I'm Jordan," he said, "and you must

be Alessandro...."

"I'm John Doe," said Alex. "Can we go

inside?"

Kevin dismissed himself, and the lawyer

showed Alex to his office.

"Lawyering pays better than stocks. Your

digs are fancier than Kevin's," Alex noted.

"You'd be surprised. I just have to spend

more on the office because my clients expect
a lawyer's office to be formal and fancy."

151/402

Jordon apologized to Alex for using his

name at the elevator. He told Alex it
wouldn't ever happen again.

"You know it's a federal crime for me to

repeat anything you say to me?"

"Yeah, well it's a state crime to do more

than 70 on an Interstate, but I bet you do."

"You're good, John Doe," said the lawyer.
Alex told the lawyer about an old lady in

his apartment complex. He asked the lawyer
if there was any way to keep the landlord
from kicking her out on the street.

"She's dying of emphysema," Alex said,

"and she's the nicest person living there. I
don't want to let that bastard put her on the
street."

The lawyer explained a little about evic-

tions, and Alex listened for a few minutes be-
fore interrupting.

"Okay, don't take this the wrong way,"

Alex said calmly, "but I don't really give a
rat's ass how you do it. You're the law expert,

152/402

and that's why I'm here. My only question is:
can you make it so she doesn't get evicted."

"Without knowing the details," the lawyer

said, "I can. Or I can slow down the eviction
so it is more trouble than it's worth."

"Good," Alex said.
"Can we at least pay the woman's back

rent?"

"Well, sure," Alex said, kicking himself

for not thinking of that before going to a law-
yer. "You have my permission to buy the
whole and entire goddam apartment com-
plex and evict the landlord."

"Sounds fun," said the lawyer.
"Everything legal?"
"Sure."
"And the woman is never to know I'm be-

hind it."

"Sure," the lawyer said. "I understa…"
"Nobody's to know," Alex said. "Nobody."
"Got it."

153/402

"Did you really say that causing the land-

lord grief sounded like fun?"

"Yeah," said the lawyer.
"I'm sure you're a good lawyer," Alex

said, "but that really gives me the willies."

"Then my work here is done," dead-

panned the attorney.

A few months later, the old woman died.

She never knew that the boy she loved to talk
to about watching birds and growing toma-
toes was the one who kept her in her
apartment.

Alex took care of the woman's medical

bills and funeral.

When the old woman's daughter came to

close down the apartment, she only took the
belongings that were sellable. She left behind
everything else. She left behind the trinkets
that would be memories of her mother.

"How sad for her," Alex said to the post-

man one day.

154/402

"Yeah, I really liked that old woman,"

said the postman.

"Not her, she's fine and in a better place,"

Alex said. "I meant the daughter: how sad for
the daughter. She had something I never
had, and she threw it all away."

"What's that?" the postman asked.
"Family. She had family."

155/402

Morning in the hospital came when a

nurse woke up Alex to take a pill. It was
barely dawn. Alex was beginning his fourth
week in the hospital.

"What's this pill do?" Alex asked.
"Make you goofy."
"I'm already goofy, what else you got?"
"This one makes it so you don't mind the

doctors cutting your butt open," said the
nurse.

"Oh, hi, Maurice," Alex said.
"Mornin' sunshine. Not like your butt

ain't been open before..."

When Alex rolled his head out of his

doughnut pillow to take the goofy-pill, he no-
ticed the other bed was empty. The sheets

were taunt as though nobody had ever been
there before.

Alex knew what it meant: the old woman

didn't live through the night.

"I didn't even get to say good-bye to her,"

Alex told Maurice.

"I didn't either, dear," Maurice said. "It

was all over before anybody knew."

"Good way to go, I guess."
Maurice said, "it'd be my choice."
"I'll make a note."
"Don't you go making notes on me, Alex,"

Maurice said. "There's enough notes out
there as it is, and every new note means I
gotta do more paperwork. I hate paperwork.
I hate 'spalainin' stuff to The-Man."

"Easy, man," Alex said, "I'm just workin'

you."

"And honey," Maurice said with a wink,

"right back at you."

157/402

The goof-ball pill hit Alex hard. Within a

few minutes, he was sound asleep.

A half hour or so later, an orderly woke

Alex to move him to a gurney. It was time for
the first of what would be many surgeries to
mend his shattered bones.

"Wait. Is there some official-looking guy

looking for me?" Alex asked.

"I'm right over here," the lawyer said. "I

didn't want to wake you." The lawyer was
dressed in black jeans and a dark blue polo
shirt. This was his "business casual" look. He
wanted to look less like a lawyer. It wasn't
working.

"Bring what I asked you to bring?" Alex

slurred, turning his head to look at the law-
yer. "And tell me you didn't get your jeans
dry cleaned."

"Yes, sir," the lawyer said. "I am going to

need three people to sign a piece of paper,"
the lawyer said to Maurice.

158/402

"I'll go get some nurses," he said. "They

teach us paper signing in nursing school
now, you know."

"Maurice?" Alex interrupted.
"I'm here."
"Is Nathan around?" Alex asked.
"He called," Maurice lied. "He said he

and his mom were stuck in traffic. He'll be
here when you wake up, hone."

"Do you want to read everything first?"

the lawyer asked as Maurice went to find two
other nurses.

"You do what I asked?"
"Yeah," said the lawyer, "but it's always

safest to…"

Alex just put his head back into his

doughnut pillow. He made a mental note to
double-check the lawyer's work as soon as
his head was clearer. There was something
about the lawyer that Alex didn't like.

159/402

Maurice reappeared with two other

people. The three would be witnesses to Alex
signature.

The lawyer — Jordan Mosley — took

charge of the room for a moment. He ex-
plained that he had two pieces of paper: a
will and a durable power of attorney. He said
that nobody needed to know what was actu-
ally mentioned in the will, and that the
power of attorney was giving Nathan Nilsson
complete control over medical and financial
decisions so long as Alex was unable to make
those decisions.

"No mind here," Alex slurred, "on ac-

count of Maurice gettin' me drunk and dis-
orderly on a pill this mornin'. Hey, was it the
blue pill or the red pill?"

The lawyer said that there were some

more "hereto's" and "wherefore's" but the
gist of what the lawyer said was that they
were just witnessing Alex's signature.

"Alex?" the lawyer said.

160/402

"Could'a been the red pill," Alex said.
"Alex?" the lawyer repeated.
"Yeah?"
"I have your Last Will here and a Durable

Power of Attorney. All these people know is
that you know what the contents of these two
documents are and that you are lucid enough
for…"

"Give me the fuckin' pen," Alex said.
"Ooo-oo," said Maurice, "He's in sound

mind, foul mouth, but not a very sound
body."

"Sound enough body for me," said one of

the other nurses. "Look at those tats and
earrings."

"Keep your filthy mind on the paperwork

and leave this poor patient to me," Maurice
said.

"In your dreams, Maurice," Alex said

from under his doughnut pillow. "In your
dreams."

161/402

"That's the God's honest truth," said an-

other nurse.

The lawyer got Maurice to help Alex to

sign both documents, then the lawyer asked
the three witnesses to sign.

"All you are doing here," Jordan said, "is

saying that you know this is Alex who signed
the paper. Nothing more."

"How the fuck are they gonna know it's

me with my face buried in this bed?"

"Honey," Maurice said. "It just takes ears

to know you."

The other nurses signed and left the

room.

"Maurice," Alex said, "make a note who

you got to sign."

"Will do, chief," said Maurice.
"Babe," Alex said to Maurice. "Could you

list a… I mean, leave Jordon and me for a
second?"

162/402

"Make it quick, honey. There's a whole

crew upstairs that want to make your private
parts really public for a few hours."

The nurse left the room.
"Jordon?" Alex said.
"Still here, Alex."
"Get the names from Maurice. Everybody

who signed. Do something nice for them.
Keep it under two or three grand."

"Of course," the lawyer said. "I'll figure

out something.

"And?" Alex said.
And nobody knows who…"
"He can be taught. My faith in lawyers

just shot up. Thanks, Jordon"

By the time Hedda Nilsson dropped

Nathan off at the hospital on her way to
work, Alex was already gone to surgery.
Nathan hobbled into the empty room and
laid his crutches on Alex's bed.

163/402

In a few minutes Trooper Justin joined

him.

"Quiet," trooper Justin observed.
"Surgery."
"Burns?"
"Bones. He gets all the bones in his hips

replaced today," Nathan said.

"Oh, he's going to be a blast at airport se-

curity," Justin predicted.

"He's always a blast," Nathan said point-

ing at his own cast.

"Poor choice of words, I guess," Justin

said. "Could you tell him I was here, asking
about him?"

Nathan said, "Sure," as the trooper went

off to work.

"Hi, I'm Kevin. Is this Alex Russo's

room?"

"Yeah," Nathan said. "And you'd be

who?"

"Kevin.."

164/402

"I know that part."
"Oh, I'm just an old friend," Kevin lied to

protect Alex's privacy. Alex was weird about
privacy. The lie worked: Nathan's curiosity
wasn't ignited.

"You his brother?" Kevin asked.
Nathan said he was a friend, too, and that

he didn't know of any brothers or other
family.

Nathan was obviously gay, and that made

lights start blinking for Kevin: Alex was gay.
It would explain quite a few things. Could
that account for his fear of people knowing
anything about him?

No big deal to Kevin. He was straight and

happy being that way. It's just another little
tidbit about Alex that made him an interest-
ing person.

Nathan said, "Doctor says he'll be in sur-

gery about 4 to 7 hours, and then he'll be in
recovery for most of the night. He won't be
back in here until tomorrow sometime."

165/402

"Alex is tough," Kevin said. "He'll be fine.

You look worried, but I know him."

"Yeah, okay."
"Alex is a fighter," Kevin said as Nathan

started to cry. Kevin walked over and held
Nathan's hand and didn't say anything.
Nathan felt a knot build up in his throat as
he started to cry. He didn't know why, but he
found himself doing that more and more
lately.

There's nothing to say in times like that,

except the 'I'm here for you' which was being
said by the stock broker's hand.

"Sorry," Nathan said, wiping his eyes. It

wasn't like the boys were lovers. The boys
barely knew each other. Nathan was embar-
rassed and at a loss to explain the tears.

"Don't be sorry: no problems. I just wish I

could stay here or do something."

"I feel helpless too," Nathan said. "He's

just gone. He was already gone when I got

166/402

here, and I have no idea what's going on
right now."

Kevin thought that keeping people in the

dark was Alex's way of doing things.

Rather than give Nathan a business card

with a stock broker's logo on it, he scribbled
a phone number on a piece of paper. "Here's
my cell phone. If you need to talk or want
anything, you give me a call."

"Okay."
"You sound like you're just being polite. I

mean this. At a very minimum, would you
call me when Alex gets out of surgery?"

"Yeah, okay."
"I worry about him, too, you know," Kev-

in said as he leaned down and hugged
Nathan.

When Kevin left, Nathan stared at the

empty bed for almost an hour. He was lost in
thought.

167/402

His doctor told him to take it easy. Real-

ity had other plans. When it is reality versus
a doctor, bet on reality every time.

Nathan's boss at the import shop had to

replace him, which is a nice way of saying he
got fired because of so much missed time.
Part of Nathan understood and was happy
that his former boss offered to pay all his
medical insurance premiums and co-pays for
awhile. Another part of Nathan was sore at
losing a job he liked.

The truth is that Nathan could have saved

his job by showing up for work. Instead of
taking care of his own life, he had gotten
wrapped up in the life of Alex. What's with
that Italian kid? He isn't Nathan's 'type' un-
less types change. He's tough and rough: all
the things that Nathan wasn't. His mouth
was coarse. If you lined up a hundred words
to describe Alex, there'd be none that look
like "refined."

168/402

Now he was going to have to move back

in with his mother. There's no dignity in
that.

He was out of work and losing his apart-

ment. His "happily-ever-after" and his best
friend were moving in together. And now
this weird Italian friend was going under a
knife.

Something about Alex made him uneasy,

but he didn't know what. Alex was obviously
in worse shape than Nathan financially, or so
he thought.

It wasn't that Nathan went looking for

hopeless young men to help. He didn't do
that kind of charity. Alex was different in a
way that... in a kind of... or something like...

Nathan found a full-size piece of paper

and wrote "Surgery Waiting Room — 3d
floor." He left the note on Alex's neatly made
bed, then he and his crutches wobbled down
the hallway to the elevators.

169/402

Late that afternoon Dr. Tamiel came into

the waiting room and asked for Nathan Nils-
son. Nathan started to get up, but the doctor
motioned for him to stay put.

She walked over and sat by Nathan.

Hedda was there too.

"Surgery's over," Dr. Tamiel said. "No

problems on his left hip and leg. It'll be fine.
Parts of his right hip were so destroyed in his
accident that recovery is going to be long and
slow. We're going to have to go in there
again, but not until later."

"Can he walk?"
"No, not for awhile. I could make it so he

could walk using his left leg and a brace
where his right leg should be working. We
thought it best to have him do rehab on the
left side and let us go back in a year from
now to fix his right hip and leg."

"So what does that…"
"I'm going to want to keep him here for a

few days. Then he needs to be in a

170/402

wheelchair. We'll get him into a rehab
schedule."

"Wheelchair?"
"I don't like it either, but it'll be okay for

awhile," Dr. Tamiel said. "Do you two live
together?"

"No," Nathan said.
"We'll take care of him," Hedda said. "I'm

Nathan's mom. We're taking Alex with us."

"Alex…"
"We have a wheelchair-friendly home,"

Hedda lied.

"That will be up to Alex, of course," the

doctor said. "The main point is that the sur-
gery went fine. I wish the right hip were in
better shape than it is."

"Thanks for the info, doc," Nathan said.
"He cares about you very much, you

know," the doctor said.

"Huh?"

171/402

"Before surgery, Alex told me to keep you

informed," said the doctor.

"I'm a lawyer," said Hedda. "We know the

law, and appreciate your candor."

"There's more to it in this case," the doc-

tor continued. "When you go under an anes-
thetic, it is like a truth serum. All he could
talk about was Nathan-this and Nathan-
that."

"Wow."
"I usually don't tell anything about what a

patient says during anesthetic, but this was
so beautiful that I thought you'd want to
know. I don't think he'd mind me telling you,
since he was really clear about his wishes
ahead of time."

"Yeah," Nathan said, "he usually gets his

points across with no chance of misunder-
standing them."

Nathan's tears came fast. The doctor

hugged him, and Mama Hedda squeezed his
hand.

172/402

"And I love him too," Nathan said, crying

harder. He realized that he had never told
Alex that. If something had happened to Alex
in surgery, Nathan would never have forgiv-
en himself.

"When can I see him?"
"Come on," said the doctor, "but just for a

minute."

Alex was out cold. He had tubes and

wires all over the place. Meters hung on
sterile stands, reporting all the major activit-
ies inside Alex.

"Not much of a looker right how, huh

doc," Nathan said trying to lighten his
mood.

"His face and hands are a little swollen

from the I.V.," said the doctor.

After looking at the readings for a

minute, the doctor continued, "Oh, he's in
fine shape here. That's one tough kid."

"Not really," Nathan said, trying not to

cry. "He's a pussy-cat inside."

173/402

"We all are, honey," said a nurse standing

behind the doctor. "We all are."

Nathan didn't leave the hospital that

night. An overnight nurse let him sleep in
Alex's bed.

The next morning, someone had dropped

off a new wheelchair. It was black on black in
black, and it still had tags hanging from the
arms. The tags were black with white print.
It had a gothic look, and Alex would certainly
approve.

"Nathan, you need to get up. I got Alex

out here, and he needs the bed."

Nathan sat up and grabbed a crutch. He

got himself to a chair just as an orderly
wheeled in Alex on a gurney. The orderly and
Maurice got Alex onto the bed like a well-or-
chestrated dance they'd done a thousand
times before.

"Oh, so that's what you look like," Nathan

said, noting that Alex was facing up for the
first time in weeks.

174/402

"Garçon," Alex slurred through the

painkillers.

"Monsieur," Maurice said.
"Where's the fuckin' button to roll up the

back of this goddam bed?"

Maurice handed Alex the bed controller.

"Here's head up and down. Here's knee up
and down. Here's Nathan up and down… just
kidding."

"Thanks," Alex said as Maurice left the

room.

"Feel better? Worse? Feel nothing at all?"

Nathan said softly.

"Groggy. Sore…" he didn't get a chance to

finish before Nathan was bedside and giving
Alex the longest kiss of his life. Nathan's
hand reached under Alex's neck. Alex's
tongue told Nathan that the kiss was wel-
comed. Nathan let his crutch drop from his
left arm and put his left palm against Alex's
cheek.

175/402

After several minutes, Nathan said "I've

been waiting a week to do that."

"I've been waiting all my life for you to do

it," Alex said.

"And I think I need a shower," said

Maurice at the door.

"Bite me," Alex said as Maurice picked up

the crutch and moved a chair next to Alex's
bed. Nathan sat as Maurice made the entire
bed move downwards. When it was as low as
it would go, Nathan reached through the
metal side-guards intended to keep Alex
from rolling off onto the floor.

The boys held hands tightly as Maurice

left the room and closed the door. The other
hospital bed was still empty.

"You're good to be around," Alex said.

"It's usually just bam-bam-thank-you-dude
for me. You're different."

"You're the one who's different. Your doc-

tor gave me a bag full of piercing stuff. They
took it out before cutting you open."

176/402

"Fuck. We gotta get them back in before

the holes close up."

"What's this?"
"Tongue thing. You ought to see what I

can do with that pierced tongue," Alex said
mainly to make Nathan blush.

With no words said, the two were becom-

ing 'an item.' Each knew how the other felt,
and neither had any doubts or questions.

After a half hour of holding hands in si-

lence, Nathan said, "I have a complaint."

"My beard? I haven't shaved in a week."
"Naw, but can we work on your entrance

for next time?"

"Oh," Alex said, "you don't like people

'bursting' into your life?"

"No so much, no. You can burst into my

life most every day. Next time, try not to use
flying doors and toilets rockets and God-
knows-what-else? Gives a kind of new mean-
ing to 'bam bam thank-you ma'am.' "

177/402

Alex said nothing.
"Alex?" He was asleep again from the

morphine drip.

"I love you," Nathan said to a sleeping

Alex.

178/402

A few days later, Nathan took Alex home.

He brought a new black bathrobe to match
the black wheelchair.

"Here," said Nathan as he handed Alex a

long thin box.

"What the fuck's… pearls?"
"You have so much black going on here

with this wheelchair, the only thing to go
with it would be pearls."

"I ain't wearin' no…"
"They're just plastic," Nathan said. "It's a

joke."

Outside the hospital for the first time in

what seemed like years, Alex breathed in the
hot Texas air.

Nathan pushed the chair towards a row of

parking spaces for handicapped drivers. It
was dicey: Nathan's crutches were laid across
Alex's lap. Nathan used the pushing grips on
the wheelchair to steady his walk.

"Needs work," Alex said.
"What's that, babe?" Nathan asked.
"Your wheelchair technique."
"Bite me."
"Okay."
"Here we are," Nathan said as they

reached a van. "It's what I told the insurance
people that I wanted after the governor des-
troyed my car."

"Oh, God, Nathan's turned into a Soccer

Mom with a van."

"Yeah, well I thought it would be easier

on you, smart ass. If you'd rather…"

"It's wonderful," Alex admitted. When

Nathan opened the side door, he pulled out a
makeshift wheelchair ramp made of plywood

180/402

and 2-x-4s.. He pulled the wheelchair back
from the van and got a running start. Even
so, they barely made it to the top.

"Duck!" Nathan said as he realized the

van door was about to take off Alex's head.
The boys laughed hard once Alex and the
wheelchair and the crutches came to a stop.

"Needs work," Alex said.
"Try it again?"
"Only if you want me to ram these

crutches up your…"

"I'll take that as a No," said Nathan clos-

ing the side door. Once inside, Alex saw they
had complete privacy. Curtains and panels
surrounded the inside. There was even a
drawn curtain behind the driver's seat.

"Come here, you sultry man," Alex said.
"Can't: you got my crutches," Nathan

said.

"It's a fuckin' van, for God's sake. Hobble

over to me before I bop you with somethin'
painful."

181/402

Nathan and Alex sat for most of an hour,

holding each other and kissing. It was the
first time Alex felt actual tenderness for any-
one. He let down his strong-man guard and
welcomed Nathan into his life.

"Can't walk," Alex said.
"I noticed."
"Can't fuck."
"One day," Nathan said.
"Can't do nothin'," Alex complained. "But

right now, I've got everything I need."

"If you say you're the luckiest man in the

world," Nathan warned, "I'm going to puke."

"No, I was going to ask you to lock down

the chair so we can go somewhere. Hospital's
gonna charge you rent if we stay here much
longer."

"Tell me again why I put up with you?"

Nathan asked.

"Steamy sex," Alex said.
"Yeah, but it isn't with you."

182/402

"Drive."
Nathan opened the curtains, revealing

the driver's area of the van. When Alex saw
there was no passenger's seat, he also no-
ticed there were clamps that fit his wheel-
chair exactly.

"Would you stop crying?" Nathan said.

"They're just clamps."

"I know," Alex said wiping back a tear.

Nobody ever did anything for him. He was
always the one making things happen.

"Tell me again why I fell in love with

you?" Nathan asked.

"I don't think you did," Alex said. "I think

you figured somebody needed to keep an eye
on me if I ever wanted to blow apart another
toilet."

"So true... you're a menace."
At the Nilsson home, Nathan pushed Alex

up a wooden ramp that he had made.

"Handy with tools, too," Alex noted.

183/402

"Oh, you have no idea. I'll open the door,

but let's see if you can push yourself in the
house."

It was a nice house in an old neighbor-

hood. There was nothing fancy anywhere.
Most of the neighbors were working class
gays or lesbians or Latinos. Oak Lawn is a
unique mix of cultures, with a recent influx
of "preppy breeders" as Hedda Nilsson usu-
ally called them.

On the dining room table were stacks of

books and papers. The table rarely saw food.
It served as her office and resource center for
her various causes.

It wasn't as though the Nilssons spent

much time keeping the house in order. It was
clean enough, but it was really cluttered.
That suited Alex just fine.

"Hi, mom," Nathan hollered.
"Oh, hi, dear," came Hedda's voice from

another part of the house. When she walked

184/402

into the front room, she said, "Alex. Mi casa,
su casa."

"Thanks very much," Alex said. "You have

no idea how much…"

"Stop," she said. "I've never seen Nathan

glowing like he has been lately. I need to
thank you. Go, show Alex around."

"He's tired, I think," Nathan said.
"Of course, how insensitive of me."
"Oh, stop," Alex said. "Everything's

wonderful."

"Kitchen's down that way. Bathroom is

on the left down the hall. Nathan spent half
the night last night installing railings for you.
Y'all's bedroom is at the end of the hall."

"Our?" Alex said. "You think I'm…? Kind

of a short engagement, isn't it? I don't just go
bounce…"

"Save it," Nathan said. "You want me, and

you know it."

185/402

"Boys," Hedda said. "Y'all do what you

want in there. It was my idea, Alex, in case
you need something in the middle of the
night. It'll be easier to wake Nathan if he's in
the same…"

"Gotcha," Alex said.
"Work time for mama," Hedda said as

she grabbed her purse and a stack of papers
from the dining room table. "You boys have
fun today…"

"Mama!" Nathan said.
"Okay, be miserable then. I don't care."
"Mama Hedda?" Alex said. She turned at

the front door and looked back at him. Alex
held up his hand with the big and little fin-
gers pointing up and the thumb pointing to
the side. It is the sign-language symbol for 'I
love you.' Hedda smiled, knowing she was
doing the right thing for Alex. She returned
the gesture with one of her own: the Namas-
té mudra, prayer hands held at her chin, as a
kind of blessing to Alex.

186/402

"Oh, I forgot," Nathan said once Hedda

left for work. "While the doctor had her
hands inside your butt last Wednesday, a guy
named Kevin stopped in to see you."

"What'd he say?"
"Nothing really," Nathan admitted. "He

just left this number and asked you to call."

"Okay," Alex said in a different tone of

voice. "Where's the phone?" It was a matter-
of-fact business-only tone of voice that Nath-
an had never heard.

"What?" Alex said.
"Nothing," Nathan said. "Your whole

aura changed when I mentioned Kevin."

"What's an aura?"
"It's a kind of energy field that wraps all

of us. Your body is bigger than a bag of
skin…"

"My brain's about to hurt here."

187/402

"Sorry, it's one of those spiritual forces,"

Nathan said. "Don't worry about it. Phone's
on the wall in the kitchen."

"Thanks." Alex rolled himself into the kit-

chen and stayed there for five or ten minutes.

188/402

"Come follow me," Alex said as he led the

way to the bedroom. In a clumsy way, he
locked the chair wheels and got himself onto
the bed. The wheelchair almost toppled over
during the move, but Alex did the move by
himself. Nathan wanted to come help, but
Alex told him to stay away. When Alex was
on the bed, Nathan put the chair beside what
was to become Alex's side of the bed. With a
finger, Alex summoned Nathan to the bed
then moved so they could snuggle.

Alex never felt so in love as he did right

then. He was almost helpless physically, but
he trusted Nathan completely.

As they snuggled, Alex loosened Nathan's

shirt and then his belt.

"Babe," Nathan said, "this can wait until

you're better."

Alex put one finger over Nathan's lips.

Removing his finger, Alex's mouth met with
Nathan's. For the first time, Alex was able to
run his hands on Nathan's chest. He reached
around and pulled Nathan closer.

In what seemed like a few seconds, Nath-

an was completely nude. He was partly
scared of doing anything to Alex because of
the casts and bandages. It had only been a
few days since Alex's entire mid-section was
ripped apart and all the shattered bones re-
placed. Nathan guessed that Alex was in a
great deal of pain and didn't want to do any-
thing to make things worse.

While they caressed and kissed, Alex's

hand became a magical tool. In a few mo-
ments Nathan moaned. He was a mess.
Nathan reached over to get a towel that Alex
had thought to put on the arm of the

190/402

wheelchair. Clever guy, Alex. He knew ahead
of time and had a towel handy.

"I'm afraid yours isn't the only mess,"

Alex said. "Could you get another towel?"

Nathan went to the bathroom and got a

towel. With his heart pounding, Nathan
opened Alex's sweatpants. Gently… ever so
gently… Nathan cleaned his lover. He re-
moved Alex's pants and laid a bathrobe on
the bed.

"Wow," Nathan said.
"That was the gentlest…"
"Uh-huh," Alex said as he pushed himself

onto his side. With one finger gently tracing
around

Nathan's

eyebrows,

Alex

said

something that he had never said to any oth-
er man: "I love you."

Nathan leaned close and used his tongue

to remove the tear that had appeared on
Alex's cheek.

"I love you, too," Nathan said.
"I saw stars."

191/402

How long can lovers stare into each

other's eyes?

"Was I supposed to cry when I said 'I love

you'?" Alex asked. "I never did that before,
you know."

"Dunno," Nathan admitted. "Try saying it

again, and we'll see."

"I love you," Alex said.
"I love you, Alex. I love you more than life

itself. I love you…"

"Alright already!" Alex protested. "But

next time, I get to wear the hoopskirt."

"Hey, that was our first sex," Nathan

observed.

"Not so much. We barely touched each

other," Alex said. "Next time, Mister, you'd
better hold on."

"Hold onto you, maybe," Nathan said

grabbing on of Alex's nipple-rings. "You sure
you have enough body jewelry?"

"There's some under this gauze, too."

192/402

"No, not now there isn't," Nathan said.

"The hospital gave me a bag of your stuff,
and it had some rings... rings?"

"Yeah, rings," Alex said. "Captive bead."
"And I don't think I want to know where

they're supposed to attach," Nathan said.

"Someday you're gonna have to get 'em

back on me."

"No way."
"Way."
"How?"
"We go to an auto supply store..."
"You tell me we have to use grease, and

I'll roll you out...."

"We go to an auto supply store and pick

up some o-ring pliers. It's the tool to push
the ring apart so the bead goes back in."

Nathan thought for a minute and said, "If

I had listed out all the stuff I was gonna learn
today, body jewelry maintenance would not
have been on the list.

193/402

"Ding," went the front door. Nathan got a

bathrobe on and ran to the living room.
When he opened the door, a florist gave him
three dozen red roses.

The card just said "I fell into your arms.

Alex."

When Nathan returned to the bedroom,

Alex was sitting up in bed with a sly grin on
his face.

"You didn't exactly 'fall' into my arms, as

I recall," Nathan said. His cheek was full of
happy tears.

"Okay, exploded," Alex laughed.
"These are way too expensive, dear."
"Not really expensive," Alex said. "Come

wipe your eyes."

Nathan looked confused.
"Okay, I haven't been completely honest

to you about one small aspect… just a teeny
little part of my life."

194/402

"Hey," Alex said.
"Hey back."
"Did you notice I stopped smokin'?"
"I notice now. That's great," Nathan said.

"It's safer for everyone around you, I think."

"When does your mother get home from

work?" Alex asked.

"Maybe 5 or 5:30, later if she's in court,"

Nathan hollered from another part of the
house as he found vases for all the roses.

"It's about noon now," Alex said, "so

there's plenty of time."

"For what?" Nathan said.
"It's Friday, so I'm taking the two of you

to dinner," Alex said.

Nathan appeared at the door. He looked

stern.

"First," Nathan said, "you just got out of

the hospital."

"Check."
"Second, you don't have any money."
"Zzzz," Alex buzzed, "but thank you for

playing. What I had at last check was a little
over 450-million dollars, my little wonder
man."

Nathan was in a state of shock for a

second, and then he knew that this street-kid
he fell in love with was yanking his chain.

"Don't mess with me, Alex. I love you too

much for you to tug around like that."

"And you know why I love you so much?"

Alex asked. "I'll tell you why, Mr. Know-it-
all. It's because you fell in love with me, not
my money."

"You mean…"

196/402

You could hear a pin drop as the news

sunk in. Nathan was having trouble with the
concept.

"How much?"
"Enough," said Alex. "Someday I'll ask

you to forgive me for not shootin' straight
with you. For today, can you try to see why I
didn't?"

"Um…"
"Okay," Alex continued, "how much can

we trust Hedda?"

"For what?"
"To keep our little secret?"
Nathan thought about his mom as best he

could with his head spinning from Alex's
story. She was always trying to raise funds
for one cause or another. Could she keep
herself under control? Could she keep from
telling others that her new son-in-law was an
almost endless source of funds?

197/402

If Alex is just deluded about his money,

Nathan should try to answer without really
giving an answer.

"Man," Nathan said. "That's tough. I

think she…"

"It's Friday," Alex said thinking out loud,

"and we have about 3 or 4 hours before she
gets home."

"What are you plotting?" Nathan asked.

"How much money?"

"See?" Alex said. "Money complicates

things."

Nathan stared off into space.
"Look at me, honey," Alex said. "Come

here and hug me because I love you just the
way you are right now and right here and…"

"And I love you too," Nathan said.
"Trust me?"
"Except for when you smoke in bars or lie

to me about being Donald Trump's long lost

198/402

kid… Sure," Nathan said, "why would I not
trust you?"

"We're having dinner then," Alex said, "in

San Francisco."

"In what?"
"There's a little place I know there. We'll

do the weekend, and I promise to get you
both up-to-speed."

"But…"
"Trust me," Alex said grabbing Nathan's

butt, "and get your mom on the phone."

"Hedda? Alex… what time are you leaving

work today? Can we come pick you up in-
stead? You car… it'll be safe for awhile?
…me? Why would I be up-to-something. It's
all taken care of. Whatever you wore to work
will be fine. Okay, could you meet us outside
at about 5:15? Okay, Mama Hedda… see you
then."

Alex got a sly grin on his face. Nathan

was looking confused or scared or not sure
who he had fallen in love with.

199/402

"How much money?"
"Lover?" Alex said.
Nathan just opened his mouth.
"Buckle up. I'm going to show you how

the 'other half' lives."

Alex dialed the phone again.
"Hi, Alessandro Russo… 32868… Hi,

Alice. I need to get to and from San Fran-
cisco, and I apologize for the short notice
but… this evening... yeah... Dallas... we need
to leave about 5... oh, good… what do you
want, just the itinerary? 210 Herschel in Dal-
las. Alice, wait… I am temporarily in a wheel-
chair… no, surgery… it'll have to be a van or a
stretch with a burly driver who can carry me,
and it makes no matter to me. Three
people… me, Nathan Nilsson.. Hedda Nils-
son… I don't think so, hang on…"

Alex asked Nathan if Hedda had any spe-

cial diet.

"Nope. Okay, there's a little café on..

yeah, the same one: you guys are good. Can

200/402

you back into a reservation time? …super…
no, they're so snooty: can you find us a dif-
ferent hotel? ...suite with two rooms… vans
and limos.... extra help getting into cars and
the jet....

"Alice, you're wonderful. There's just one

more thing. I have Nathan Nilsson here. Can
you make it so any time he calls, it gets put
onto my account? Okay, mail it and I'll sign
it… yeah, hang on…"

"Babe," Alex said to Nathan as he held

the phone out, "I'm going to put you on the
phone with Alice, and I'll explain later. For
now, just answer her questions. Okay?"

Nathan took the phone: "Hello? Hi,

Alice… Nathan Nilsson… n-i-l-s-s-o-n....
Wait, let me get a pencil… okay… 63912.
That's it? Okay...."

He handed the phone back to Alex.
"Alice, anything else? Okay, and tell your

boss you don't earn enough. Bye."

201/402

Alex hung up the phone. Nathan tried to

get some answers, but Alex had another call
to make.

"Patience, love," Alex said as he dialed. "I

promise that you're next."

"Kevin," Alex said into the phone. "Alex.

No shit? How much? Ouch. Teach me to get
in the hospital. No, no time today. I'll be in
on Monday to fix it. This is gonna be weird to
say but… it was just a mil-and-a-half... I
know, you should'a been on this end… felt
weird to say.

"Kevin, I need to put two people on a

kind of salary for the rest of their lives.
Really? What's it called? Investment Trust..
Unit Investment Trust... revocable trust...
okay, what's the tab for 10 a month? Let's do
it. Nathan Nilsson… Hedda Nilsson… 210
Herschel. Start it up for this month... I'll sign
them when I get back... Kevin, you're great…
bye."

202/402

Alex hung up the phone and looked at a

befuddled Nathan and grinned.

"Follow all that?"
"No."
"Follow any of it?"
"No."
"Okay, there's this company that does

things for rich folks, and that was the first
phone call. I usually just give them a rough
idea and let them fill in the details. They're
much better at that than I am. I tell 'em
what, and they figure out how."

"San Francisco?"
"Yup. Here's the deal, and it is going to be

sooooo cool, babe."

"Briiiiiiiiiing," said the phone.
Nathan answered it and then handed the

receiver to Alex.

"Hello?" said Alex... "Wait, first how'd

you get my number... oh, okay."

203/402

Alex covered the handset and whispered

to Nathan, "Babe, can we get Caller ID on
this phone blocked... no, never mind: I had
another idea."

Alex listened for awhile. It was the stock

broker calling with some questions.

"Good call," Alex said. "We need to keep

the 10-thousand monthly thingy constant.
Adjust the investment to keep it there, and
add more if you need to. And can you make it
so if inflation goes up, the monthly amount...
call it 'COLA' if you want... call it '7-UP'... oh,
'Cost of Living Adjustment.' Sure. Okay,
bye."

"Where were we? Alex asked. "Wait..."
Alex made another phone call.
"Russo...32868... Hi, I was just speaking

with someone there named Alice... okay...
I've got her working on a trip we're doing
this evening to San Francisco... yeah... any-
way, I was in an accident recently, and my
cell-phone was destroyed... could you... oh,

204/402

great... yeah, that's the number... Dallas or
San Francisco... nope, doesn't matter which
end... thanks."

"No more calls," Alex said. "I promise.

Any'who, about five this afternoon, a car is
going to come by the house for us. We're go-
ing to swing over to pick up your mom. Then
the driver will take us to Love Field just
down the road, but to a secret entrance on
Lemmon Avenue. There's a private little ter-
minal there that almost nobody knows
about. Without hardly waiting at all, we're
going to get on some kind of private jet."

"Private…"
"Yeah, the jet is going to take the three of

us to din-din in San Francisco. Then we have
the weekend to spend with each other.
Hedda too, but she's going to have to leave
us some private time, if you know what I
mean."

205/402

Nathan stammered a little. "Who are

you? What have you done with my street
kid?"

Alex laughed, "I'm here. Let me do this

for you and Mama Hedda."

"How'd you…" Nathan started.
"Get rich?" Alex said. "Simple, really. For

some reason that I can't explain, I can look at
financial reports on a corporation and tell
whether their stock is going to be going up or
down. I ain't hardly ever wrong."

"What does it all mean?" Nathan said as

he braced himself for a let-down. He didn't
expect to see a limo actually drive up. He
didn't expect to see a private jet at Love
Field. Alex was up to something, but there
was no way he was worth almost a half a
billion-with-a-'B' dollars.

"What it means is that you fell in love

with a poor street kid, but when you woke
up, you found that the poor kid was really
the richest bitch in town."

206/402

"And that salary? What was that…"
"Oh, yeah," Alex said. "You got me to

thinking about Hedda and her causes. You
were bein' smarter than me about her. I got
my stock guy, Kevin, to put both of you on a
salary for the rest of your lives."

"But…"
"Starting today, each of you will be get-

ting a check for 10-grand a month."

"But… but...," Nathan tried to stay.
"No buts, no obligations," Alex said. "You

and I break up, you still get the money. I die,
you still get the money. But if you die, the
money disappears so it doesn't get into your
Last Will or anything."

"But why?"
"Simple," Alex said, "Hedda has 10-grand

a month to play with. It's hers. If she wants
to quit work, go for it. But there's no coming
to Alex for more. Alex doesn't give more.
Ka'peeesh?"

207/402

"I'm getting dizzy here, babe," Nathan

said. "Could you be poor again and let's go
back and have sex or something?"

"One other thing," Alex said as he started

undoing Nathan's belt and pants. "Remem-
ber the phone number and I-D number that
the woman from the service gave you?"

Nathan found it hard to concentrate on

Alex's words because of what Alex was doing
with his hands. First, Alex got the belt off.
Nathan groaned as his pants fell to the floor.
He stepped out of his pants and started
rolling Alex's wheelchair back to the
bedroom.

"Just call that number and…"
Alex put a finger over Nathan's mouth.

Enough talk for awhile. Alex had other
things on his mind.

Afterwards, Nathan broke the silence:

"Man," he said, "I had no idea somebody
confined to a wheelchair could…"

208/402

"Holy shit," Alex said. "We've been back

here for two hours."

"Car'll be here shortly," Nathan said as he

sprung into action. "What do I need to
pack?"

"Change of clothes… some rubbers...,"

Alex said as Nathan looked back at his lover
cleaning himself with a towel. "What?"

"Rubbers? Aren't you supposed to be an

invalid or something?"

"Pack 'em," Alex said. "If it kills you, one

of is going to get it in San Francisco."

"Okee…"
"Any ideas what Mama Hedda would

want to bring with her?"

"Oops," Nathan said. "Not really."
"No biggie," Alex said. "We'll treat her to

a shopping spree in The City."

209/402

Right on schedule, a limo came to pick up

the boys. It was Alex's first follow-through.
He was not just talk.

When Nathan answered the door, he saw

the car.

"Long as a whore's dream," he said.
"Mr. Russo?" the man said.
"Alex, rent-a-wreck's here with your go-

cart."

When Alex rolled into the living room, he

asked the driver for help with the suit cases
the boys had packed.

Nathan was doing is best to work the

crutches. Alex gave a "weeeeee" as his chair
rolled down the ramp that Nathan had built
in front of Hedda's house.

Nathan was able to crawl into the car,

and the driver lifted Alex and put him on a
bench inside the door.

"No dignity to this, is there?" Alex asked

the driver.

"No worries, sir. We'll be sure to get you a

van when you come back."

"Thanks," Alex said making a note to tell

the concierge service to put vans on the list
of things he liked. "Bischero," Alex muttered
to himself, calling himself stupid for not
thinking about a van first.

When they picked up Hedda, she was tak-

ing everything in stride. She was so calm
about being picked up by a limo that it gave
her son the willies. Alex decided that Hedda
must have figured out he was rich, and he
made a note to himself to find out more
about her once they get back to Dallas.

At Love Field — a small airport close to

downtown — the limo took them to a side
entrance that most people never see. Nathan

211/402

was entering the world of the well-to-do for
the first time in his life.

The driver got Alex into his wheelchair

and began to push him into the General Avi-
ation building. Nathan caught up and told
the driver he wanted to push. Hedda took
Nathan's crutches, as he could use the wheel-
chair handles as crutches as he pushed —
tried to push — Alex into the terminal. It was
uphill. The hill was winning.

"You know we're going to San Francisco,"

Alex said.

"Yeah, I can't wait," Nathan said.
"We're in the middle of a prairie, and

you're panting. They have actual hills in San
Francisco."

"Bitch," Nathan said.
"Frocio," Alex said.
Hedda started to say something, but

Nathan cut her off: "Don't ask. It's probably
Italian. It is undoubtedly nasty."

212/402

"Honey," Hedda said. "He called you a

'faggot' and not the polite way to say it, I
might add. But that isn't what I was going to
say."

Just then Alex was on his own. Nathan

lost his balance into a pothole in the pave-
ment and went sprawling into the flowerbed.

"What I was going to say," Hedda said,

"was to watch out for the hole."

"What's that word you used on me?"

Nathan asked.

"Frocio," Ales said. "It doesn't work on

Hedda, so just leave it alone."

Nathan slapped the back of Alex's head.
"Cacasenno works."
"Caca mean the the same thing as

Spanish?"

"Yeah," Alex said, "and senno means

wisdom."

"She shits wisdom?" Nathan asked.

"That's weird."

213/402

"I think it means more like smart ass,"

Hedda volunteered.

"Parlate?" Alex said.
"No," Hedda said with a wink. "I'm just a

hick Texas girl."

In the terminal, the pilot and copilot

briefly introduced themselves. They then
went outside to the jet to get things ready for
their flight to California.

A young man in a suit introduced himself

as the steward. He told them the bar is
stocked, but he would like to know what they
would like for supper.

Alex and Hedda to the lead as Nathan

was confused by all the personal attention.
When it was his turn, he said he didn't care:
"sandwich or something would be fine."

"No, wait... can you do London Broil?"
"Sure."
"Man, I can get used to this," Nathan

said.

214/402

"So could I," said the steward. "I'm a

really good cook. Give the pilots about 15
minutes, and we'll be wheels up. Now, if
you'll excuse me..."

The steward was professional. He wasn't

cold, per se, but there wasn't any real per-
sonality there.

Nathan felt sorry for the steward: friendly

and very professional, not an ounce of per-
sonality peeking through the spit-shine.

Alex asked a lady who looked like she was

a "go to" kind of person, "Okay for us to
board and keep out of their way?"

"Let me check, sir," she said picking up

the phone.

In a moment, the steward reappeared:

"I'm sorry. I thought you'd be more comfort-
able out here. My bad. Come on, the cabin's
ready for you."

The steward pushed Alex with Hedda

helping Nathan and the crutches.

215/402

"So," she said, "tell me how Alex is in

worse shape than you..."

"Watch it, mom," Nathan told his moth-

er. "Alex is has a tactical nuclear mouth full
of Italian missiles."

"Yeah, whatever," Alex hollered.
There wasn't a jetway into the plane.

Most people would walk up a flight of stair
from the tarmac, that wasn't possible for
Alex. Instead, they rolled Alex's wheelchair
into a kind of cherry-picker. It lifted Alex and
an attendant up to the level of the jet's door.
Nathan and Hedda took the stairs.

On-board, Nathan helped Alex into one

of the plush leather chairs as the steward
took the wheelchair and stored it in a closet.

Alex accepted the attention as though he

had lived like this all his life. He hadn't, of
course. This was one of only a handful of
times he had spent his wealth on himself.

Hedda was being cool, like there was

nothing unusual going on.

216/402

Nathan was a basket-case. When the

steward asked to do something for him, he
acted like the steward was going out of his
way to be nice somehow. He didn't know
how to accept lavish treatment from a
stranger and it showed. What if Nathan said
something wrong or did something he wasn't
supposed to do.

If Nathan was confused about what he

was supposed to do, he was completely
dumbfounded by his mother. Hedda is al-
ways the one who gets wound. She is the act-
ivist and trouble-maker. How could she be
used to living around such wealth? It was al-
most as though he didn't recognize his own
mother.

And Alex: what's with him? Nathan's

friend was obviously rough on the outside.
He came across as a street kid able to put to-
gether enough money to buy lunch today.
The truth is that Alex could not only afford
lunch, but he could buy the entire restaurant

217/402

and put it on a credit card. This was a kind of
twisted opulence that could get Nathan
worked into a tizzy.

The immensity of Alex's fortune changed

everything for Nathan. It was not a good
change. He no longer knew how to relate to
Alex.

The city: San Francisco. To people living

there, it isn't "a" city: it is "the" city.

Although it was already evening when

they arrived, Alex asked the driver to take
them up onto Twin Peaks, a hill over looking
the Sunset District and the Castro. The city
had built a lookout area on one of the peaks
that gave visitors a panoramic.

This time, somebody had requested a van

instead of a limo. Alex hadn't asked for a
van, so it must have been the limousine
driver in Dallas.

Fog was coming into the bay as they

looked at the Golden Gate Bridge. Soon only
the tall towers that hold the suspending

218/402

cables were visible. The lanes of traffic were
under the clouds. The fog was moving over
the bay, heading for Oakland.

The driver gave them a quick tour: Coit

Tower, the old movie house that marked the
gay district of Castro, the U.S. mint, and the
pointed Prudential building.

As they looked at the city beginning to

close down for the day, someone pushed
Alex's wheelchair. It lurched forward, caught
by the driver and Hedda.

"That, my friends," said the driver, "is

what we call a little earthquake."

"Just a little jolt," Alex noted.
"It's the show we arrange for our best

visitors."

"Man, earthquake," Nathan said. He no-

ticed there was a giant television antenna
next to them on the hill. He wasn't sure he
wanted to be next to them in case of a larger
quake.

219/402

"Puny one," said the driver. "We get them

all the time. No big deal."

"For you, maybe," Nathan said. "It's a big

deal for us. Something bigger coming?"

"No, sir. Probably not. When you don't

feel the little ones for awhile, it means she's
building up a big one."

"Letting off pressure a little at a time,"

Hedda said in a calm voice as though she'd
been through earthquakes all her life. In fact,
she hadn't, but this was one little bounce. It
was over as fast as it came on.

"That's Nob Hill," said the driver pointing

to a steep hill in the distance. "When you are
ready, I'll take you there. You can see the
hotel... oh, there's a cable car headed up the
hill."

"You have better eyes than me," Hedda

said.

The trip down from Twin Peaks had the

visitors glued to the windows.

"Thanks for the tour," Hedda said.

220/402

"And the floor show," Alex added, refer-

ring to the little quake.

At the hotel, they were checked in before

Nathan knew what was going on. Somehow
Alex didn't have to stand in line at the Regis-
tration counter. The details were just done
by someone. Nathan wasn't finished taking
in the decorations of the main lobby when a
woman handed him the plastic card whose
magnetic strip would be a key to the hotel
room.

The room had a name, not a number.

Nathan knew what that meant: big suite.

A light on the telephone was blinking.

Nathan didn't know how somebody could
have already left them a message. He read
the instructions.

"Hey, this thing has voice mail." He

pressed buttons and followed the instruc-
tions. "Silicon Sally says press 2." He pressed
numbers.

221/402

The message was in a goofy-sounding

Spanish. No, he heard the word Alessandro.
It wasn't Spanish, it was Italian.

Nathan hung up. The message wasn't for

him, and he wanted to let Alex hear it from
the beginning. He didn't wait for instructions
on saving or deleting the message. He just
hung up and called for Alex.

Rosa Russo was barely able to hold the

phone when she was finally able to track
down her son in a San Francisco hotel.

"Alessandro," Rosa said into the voice-

mail. Alex listened to the voice he recognized
as his so-called mother. It was a voice he had
not heard for a decade.

"E chi se ne frega?" he said at one point.
"Faccia di stronzo," he said later.
When the message was finished, Alex

changed so thoroughly that you could feel
the change through the whole suite.

222/402

Alex's mother had found him through an

old friend. She called him at the Fairmont
Hotel in San Francisco.

"I ain't got no father," Alex told Nathan.

"T'ta a facc', — arruso, papa," he said into the
air.

"What's wrong, babe," Nathan asked.
"My mother tracked me down to say her

husband is dying."

"Your dad?" Hedda asked.
"I got no papa," Alex screamed. "I got no

papa, who's dying. Yea, well we all die. So
what? Big deal?"

When Nathan came over, Alex was cold

and distant. He wanted everyone to stay
away. The memories of all the hurt and anger
and abuse came bubbling up. He didn't want
anything but to get into his shell. It was safe
inside. That phone call had reminded him
that people always hurt him.

"You want to talk?" Nathan asked.

223/402

Alex just stared at him. No life at all in his

eyes.

"Alex?"
"I want to go home," he said fiercely

through tightly clamped teeth. "My fuckin'
mother, who didn't lift a goddam finger to do
anything when my so-called asshole father
beat me 'cause I'm a faggot. That's what's go-
ing on.

"And now the asshole is dying, and I'm

supposed to play like nothing happened and
it's all hunky-dory and come sit beside that
bastard that couldn't even stand to be
around me. Fuck no, I'm not goin' to jump
when she says."

Nathan put his hand on Alex's shoulder

and followed him when he tried to roll away
in his wheelchair.

"And what are you lookin' at?" he said to

Hedda Nilsson.

"I'm looking at a little boy," she said, "and

part of me wants to hug him because of the

224/402

hurt, and the other part wants to slap him
because he's hurting his mother."

"What do you know about it?"
"I know you have no idea what's going in-

side her head," Hedda said. "I know you have
no idea how much pain you caused her. I
know the whole thing's a mess, and you don't
like it when things get messy."

Alex turned and rolled toward the hotel

room door.

"I don't think San Francisco is the kind of

town you want to be alone on a sidewalk in a
wheelchair," Hedda said. "It's a long way
down off Nob Hill, son."

"You have no idea what's…."
"Oh, yes I do," Hedda said, raising her

voice. "Did you ever ask about Nathan's
dad?"

She waited.
"No, I didn't think so. Notice that Nathan

never talks about him? Notice that I don't
either?"

225/402

She waited, and all Alex did was stare.
"I don't know, but I'm going to assume

that you've seen my son without his clothes
on. Did you see the big scar on his stomach?"

"Yeah," Alex said. "So? It's was a bicycle

accident."

"No," Hedda said. "It wasn't an accident.

It was his father, my husband. He got that
scar at the same time he lost a testicle. Don't
try to tell me you didn't notice he only has
one."

"I saw," Alex said. "Bicycle, Nathan said."
"Wrong," Hedda said. "Björn Nilsson

beat Nathan into a half-inch of his life be-
cause he wanted to learn oil painting instead
of soccer. Then he picked up the closest
weapon he could find and mutilated my son
with a rusty pair of scissors."

Alex felt his heart pounding. He wanted

to run away somewhere.

"Björn Nilsson, my loving husband, beat

me because I allowed myself to bear a son

226/402

who was gay. And because he insisted on
marriage being 'until death-do-us-part,' we
parted with death. I ended my marriage with
a gun that Björn kept in the bedroom."

Alex turned around and looked at Hedda

who was staring down at him with tears
streaming down her face.

"So don't you ever tell me I don't under-

stand," she said. "I understand being on the
receiving end, and so does my son. Don't you
tell me that Nathan can't understand where
you are, because he can. He's been there. We
can both hold our own in that conversation.
I've got jail time, and Nathan's got physical
scars, emotional scars, and missing body
parts."

"I'm...," Alex started. "That bitch didn't…"
"Have you talked to your mother lately?"

Nathan asked.

"Not since… you know…"
"Then you have no idea," Nathan said.

227/402

"Aren't you still pissed at your dad?" Alex

sobbed.

"Yeah," Nathan admitted. "Lot of good

that does, though. Makes me mad, and he's
still as dead as he was. Mad gets me
nothing."

Nathan pulled Alex's wheelchair back in-

to the hotel room and closed the door. The
feeling in the suite was soup-thick, as the
three stayed quiet for some time as the
heated energies settled.

Alex was shocked at the news his lover

had been abused as a kid. So much for Alex
being able to read people. He was blind-
sided by this one.

It was good in a way that Nathan wasn't

as transparent as others. In many ways,
Nathan was a mystery to Alex.

Sensing that Alex's walls were coming

down a little, Nathan reached out and took
Alex's hand. Hedda walked to a chair by the
window to let the boys share physical

228/402

contact. Nathan hugged Alex and held him as
the tough street kid tried to set a course for
himself.

"So, how come you never told me about

your father?" Alex asked.

"Same reason you didn't tell me about

yours," Nathan said. Two things were re-
markable: first, Alex wasn't sure what to do;
and two, he was able to say so.

"I got you two here for the greatest week-

end in your life," Alex said, "and now it's all
fucked."

Hedda said, "There's somebody I've

known for years through the mail but never
met, and he lives here in town. Can we at
least go meet him?"

She was gently taking charge of the situ-

ation, and Alex let her.

"Oh, I know who that is," Nathan said.
"Father Bickson," Hedda said.

229/402

"So now you're throwing priests at me,"

Alex said. "Like I don't have enough people
to hate me?"

Nathan laughed. "Father Bickson is a

priest, but not Roman Catholic."

"So?"
"He's in the Liberal Catholic Church."
"No such thing, is there?" Alex asked.

"What is it with you two? Liberal and Cathol-
ic. Nathan tried to pull that shit on me in
Dallas."

"Sure there is," Hedda said. "Nathan and

I go to the Liberal Catholic Church in Dallas.
I'm surprised he didn't tell you or invite you
or something."

She playfully slapped Nathan on the back

of the head.

"You two ever talk about things?" she

asked. "Or do you just have sex all day."

"Sex works for me," Nathan said.

230/402

Alex slapped Nathan just like his mother

did.

"Hey, two against one ain't fair," said

Nathan.

"I don't go to church," Alex said.
"Father Bickson", Hedda continued, "got

me through those hard times with my hus-
band and being in jail and stuff. He wrote
every day for awhile. If he weren't gay, I'd
marry him."

"Marry a priest?" Alex said. "Gay priest?"
"You must have grown up Roman," Nath-

an said.

"Russo," Alex said. "Italian name, so what

do you think?"

"Fu-get-ubout-it," Nathan said.
Alex went to slap Nathan on the back of

the head again, but Nathan caught his arm.

"Don't do it. I got Viking blood. Do not

ever make Viking blood boil."

"Ooooo," Alex said. "I love you, Viking."

231/402

In a matter of minutes, Hedda had

calmed down the situation. It wasn't that
Alex was any less angry, but his anger was no
longer explosive. Alex saw what she was do-
ing, and it made him respect her more. He
now knew what made Hedda such the voice
of those society wants to belittle. This wo-
man who came across as a goodie two-shoes
was really a tough broad who didn't shy away
from a fight.

She had taken Alex's rage and forged it

into a sword of respect. What's more, she
had calmed the situation with grace and
style, and that was something Alex couldn't
ever master. He played people, but he always
used charm or fear. Alex knew he was being
played by Hedda, but she did it so well that
went along.

"So you wanna go have some of that sex

mama was accusing us of having con-
stantly?" Sex was the fall-back topic that

232/402

Alex used when he didn't know what else to
say.

"Boys…" Hedda said.
"Don't worry, Mrs. Nilsson," Alex said.

"How much sex can we have? I'm crippled,
and he's just got one huevo."

Nathan chased him down the hallway. In

the bedroom, there was no sex that Friday
night. They got into bed but just talked. Be-
fore they knew it, light was beginning to
move into the city.

In a matter of a few hours, both boys had

changed. Alex was rich with a lot of "FBD"
(family baggage drama). Nathan was more
complicated than his external calm showed.
They spent the night telling stories and
learning about each other.

Talking wasn't Alex's strongest area, but

the boy was trying. It was hard: feeling the
anger again.

Talking with Nathan was somehow differ-

ent . Nathan had seen the same things.

233/402

Nathan had felt the same pains of rejection
coming from the parent he needed to ad-
mire. Nathan had lost a testicle at the hands
of the person who was supposed to protect
him. Both boys had physical and emotional
scars from abusive fathers.

Alex had always coped by being tough

and secretive.

Nathan was almost exactly the opposite.

He made his life work like the non-skid sur-
face of a frying pan. He didn't block out any-
thing: it just slid off.

In a way, Nathan's approach was simpler

and easier. It took less work than Alex's
walls.

Alex opened up about his father for the

first time. Nathan mainly listened but
jumped in with a memory of his own from
time to time.

It was morning already. The night had

slipped away without Alex or Nathan know-
ing about it. The aroma of coffee was coming

234/402

from outside the bedroom. Hedda was up
and had found the hotel suite's coffee maker.

The boys sat in the bedroom and talked

with the door open.

"Boys," Hedda called down the hallway of

the largest hotel suite she'd ever seen. "If
y'all are naked, could you at least close the
door?"

"It's nothin' you ain't seen before," Alex

hollered back. "We're just talkin'… you can
come down here."

"I'm a proper lady," said Hedda. "Why

don't you to come out to the parlor. Is that
what they call this room?"

Hedda had opened a door, thinking it was

a closet. The silver and crystal knob revealed
another part of the suite that she didn't know
was there.

"I've never seen a hotel room that was as

large as my house," Hedda said as she
walked through the long and narrow room
with windows on two sides.

235/402

"Okay," Alex told Nathan, "I'll get back in

the rollie-pollie. Could you go see if the sofa
is available?"

While he was gone, Alex dialed room ser-

vice and ordered breakfast for everyone.

"We have a sofa?" Nathan asked.
"I think so," Alex said. "Go see, would

you? I'm tired of this chair and want to
stretch out."

When Nathan came back, he stood at the

bedroom door and said: "Fuck!"

"What?"
"There's a whole other part of the thing

we never saw. Did you rent the whole floor?"

Alex just grinned. It was the first time his

mind was off his father since the phone call.

"I have bad news, babe," Nathan said.
"What?"
"There are two sofas."
"I hate decisions," Alex said. "Well, get

me down there into one of them, will you?

236/402

We'll just toss the second one out the
window."

"I love you, Alex."
"I love you, too," Alex admitted, "even if

you have only one ball."

"Bite me."
After they got Alex on one of the sofas in

the newly-discovered parlor, he relaxed a bit.

"Where does the priest live?" Alex asked.
"Noe Valley," Hedda answered, "last I

heard."

Rubbing his head to try to get everything

in focus, he thought of what needed to be
done.

"Got his phone number?"
"Yup," Hedda said as she pulled a little

electronic organizer from her purse.

"Could you call him and ask him to join

us for lunch?" Alex said. "Tell him to pick the
place and the time, and we'll pick him up."

237/402

Hedda called with the excitement of

meeting someone she had known at a dis-
tance. The two had never met in person.

He would be expecting them in at noon,

and he had picked a place near his home.
Hedda thought to ask the priest if the res-
taurant would be wheelchair-friendly, and
that changed the plans a little.

Both boys sat in the suite's parlor, listen-

ing to Hedda's half of the conversation.

When the call was over, Alex asked Nath-

an to make the arrangements.

"I don't know what to do," said Nathan. "I

don't know where the...."

"Babe, use the phone and your I-D num-

ber. Let our 'fix-it' company do what they do
best. Just be nice and tell 'em where we need
to be and when."

Hedda watched with the quiet pride of a

mother seeing her son handling the arrange-
ments. Nathan was learning how to navigate
the world of wealth, and he was doing it with

238/402

the class and dignity that she had taught
him.

During the call, Nathan was hesitant at

first. He told the person on the phone that
he'd never used the service before. Whatever
the person on the other end said, it worked
to calm Nathan.

Alex interrupted, "Babe, could you make

sure we're still on schedule to go home
tomorrow?"

Nathan asked, and then nodded.

239/402

Father John Bickson was a dog-groomer

by trade. He managed a small shop on 24th
Street.

Noe Valley is a district of San Francisco

just over a hill from the Castro. It is heavily
gay, and strongly peppered with young
professionals.

The shop was in what amounts to a bed-

room community in the city: little consumer-
oriented shops, but far away from the larger
goods you need to setup and run a house.

Bickson's is as a priest in the Liberal

Catholic Church. The LCC is a small group of
Christians, independent from the Roman
Catholic

Church.

The

Liberals

stress

personal freedom while keeping a traditional
liturgy.

LCC priests are rarely full-time because

the church doesn't put them on a salary.
They are "working-priests" which is another
point that the Vatican thinks is ill-advised.

Father John Bickson and his domestic

partner, Jake Wilson, ignore the philosoph-
ical discussions. They spend most of their
free time working with abused kids and
people of all ages who have HIV-disease. In
other words, they have no actual time to
themselves.

Father John and Jake were on the side-

walk, waiting for what they thought would be
a rental car. They were startled when a wo-
man jumped out of a stretch-limo saying
"Father John? Are you Father John?"

"Hedda?" asked the priest. He was wear-

ing jeans and t-shirt, rarely donning a cleric-
al collar.

241/402

"We could have gone in my car, you

know," he said, assuming she was trying to
impress him for some reason.

Once inside the car, he saw the reason for

the stretched out car. One of the car's occu-
pants was heavily bandaged around his mid-
section, and the other had a leg in a cast. The
boys could never have fit in the priest's com-
pact car.

"I'm John, and this is Jake," Bickson said.
"Oh, I'm sorry, father," Hedda said.
"This is my son, Nathan. And that is his

lover, Alex."

"Hi," Jake said.
"I'm John," said the priest. "No need for

religious titles except in church."

"Hi, John… Jake," Alex said, noticing that

the priest had several piercings in each ear.
If you had lined up 50 people and told Alex
to pick out the priest, Alex would never have
picked John Bickson. Alex was sure the
priest and his body jewelry were breaking all

242/402

sorts of church rules somewhere along the
way.

"Nice to finally meet you both," Nathan

said, as he gently kissed each on the cheek.
Walking in a limo is more like crawling, and
the two new guests were not used to it.

"So what's this, Nathan," Bickson said

laughing. "A husband finally? I was thinking
there was something wrong with you."

Nathan caught Alex's eye and pointed a

finger at him: "Not a word. Just let it go."

"And Alex here has issues with authority,

I'm guessing," the priest said as Alex
frowned toward the priest. "Just a guess, but
judging by all the bandages, I assume com-
ing out to California was not on your doctor's
list of things you ought to be doing."

The priest winked at Alex. Did the priest

just take him down in a kind of verbal judo?
One thing was clear to Alex, the priest was
fearless and liked playing close to the net.

243/402

At lunch, Hedda and Nathan caught up

with Bickson. Alex and Jake chatted about
nothing in particular.

"The idea that a Catholic can be 'liberal' is

a really creepy," Alex said to Jake.

"Weird, isn't it," Jake laughed. He then

explained what their church was about and
how it really started in Holland.

"You mean Amsterdam with all the gay

guys and legal dope?" Alex said.

"I'm not sure the church is connected to

all that," Father Bickson interrupted then
went back to conversation with Hedda and
Nathan.

After dinner, the group moved to the

restaurant's bar and sat in overstuffed chairs
around a tiny table.

"Father?" Alex said. "Something's eatin'

at me. Can we go somewhere?"

"You driving or want me to push?" said

the priest.

"You lead, and I'll roll behind."

244/402

When they got out of ear shot of the

group, the priest sat down and leaned toward
Alex's wheelchair.

Before Alex could say anything, the priest

said, "When you two decide to tie the knot, I
got dubs on the Union Ceremony."

"You can do that?" Alex said. "Won't you

get fired?"

"From the grooming shop? Naw, they

won't mind."

Alex looked to make sure the priest was

kidding him.

"And the church says it's okay for two

guys to live together in a loving relationship.
We've got gay priests, you know."

"So does the Vatican," Alex said.
"Yeah, but we say so in public," said the

priest.

"You have a very cool church, Father,"

said Alex.

245/402

"What's up?" said the priest, turning the

conversation to Alex's issue.

"It's my so-called father," Alex said. "He

beat me up and then booted me out of the
house for being queer. Now he's dying and
my mother wants me to forget everything
and come visit."

"You keep in touch at all?"
"Nothin'. Not so much as a goddam

Christmas card," Alex said, "not since I'z
fourteen."

"How do you feel about it?" the priest

asked.

"Like it's bullshit, and I can't erase 10

years… like I had to sell my body to fat old
men just to eat…"

Father Bickson thought for a minute.
"I can't help you," said the priest.
"I thought that…"

246/402

"What I really think is you want me to

rubber stamp a decision you already made,"
said Father Bickson.

Alex bristled. He took the priest's words

as a kind of attack.

The priest continued: "You gotta figure

out your own response, and I can't do that
for you. We can talk about how hard it'd be
to put the anger in a box for awhile, but I'm
not going to sit here and blow smoke up your
ass."

Alex was a little shocked by that kind of

language coming from a priest. He looked at
Father Bickson to see if he said what he did
for shock value. The priest was good: Alex
couldn't get a reading.

"How long does he have to live?" the

priest asked.

"Maybe a month," Alex said.
"Does Nathan have an opinion?"
"I don't know, why?"

247/402

"Because he loves you, and you're a

couple. Don't hold him at arms' length on
this, Alex. If you're a couple, act like it and
pull him inside."

For the first time, Alex saw himself as a

man in prison. The priest showed him the
walls he used to keep the world away from
his emotions. The walls weren't keep others
out as well as they were keeping Alex in. Alex
had been a prison inmate and never new it...
ever saw it. He could spot trouble a mile
away, but when the trouble was inside, he
was blind to it.

It was a rare occasion when Alex had

nothing to say. His overactive brain wasn't
able to give him comfort. Alex recognized
that Alex wasn't the only person in Alex's
life. He looked at the priest for direction, but
it wasn't working. He looked at the priest for
comfort, but that wasn't working either.

"I love you, Alex," said the priest. "Do you

know what you have to do now?"

248/402

"No! I'm completely confused now," Alex

said.

"Then you're right where you're at a won-

derful place! You've got a guardian angel
who's highly paid and well-trained to take
care of this kind of thing. I can tell you the
two things you need to do: first of all, close
your eyes and ask for help. Feeling hopeless
is a wonderful time to meet your guardian
angel."

"And the second thing?"
"The other thing is to talk about your

feelings and fears with your fiancé. It isn't
that he is some great source of wisdom. The
real help for you is when you talk through
this thing with the person you love."

"Man, you're good," said Alex.
The priest didn't answer. He didn't say

anything. Instead he waited for Alex to get
his head wrapped around everything.

After a few long minutes, the priest

dropped his final bombshell.

249/402

"Alex," the priest said. "This thing with

your father… you gotta get it right the first
time."

Alex looked at the priest confused.
"If your dad has a month to live, this isn't

a decision you an go back and fix later. Once
he's gone, you can't go back and change your
decision. Never. So get it right the first time.
Do whatever you need to do, something you
and Nathan can live with for the rest of your
lives."

Father Bickson sat there with Alex, and

he was ready to sit as long as he was needed.
Alex reached out and held the priest's hand.

When Alex squeezed the priest's hand,

Father Bickson knew he'd gotten through to
the young man. It was a simple thing like the
squeeze that made being a priest worthwhile.

250/402

At San Francisco's General Aviation ter-

minal, the pilots and steward met the three
travelers. It was a different crew.

The steward asked what each wanted for

supper, and loaded the galley accordingly.

San Francisco didn't have a cherry-picker

to get Alex onto the plane. They rolled him
into one of the trucks that food caterers use.
It is a panel truck whose back end can lift all
the way up to plane level. The steward rolled
Alex into the truck, with Hedda following.
Nathan and his crutches took a little longer.
Once in, the truck drove out to where the jet
was parked and lifted them up to the door
level. Nathan thought it was really cool and

much easier than trying to fight all those
stairs with crutches.

When the jet was off the ground, the

steward sauntered into the galley to prepare
the evening meal. The galley was actually a
complete kitchen on a compact scale.
Today's meal would be cooked by the stew-
ard from scratch.

Nathan was glad that no-personality

steward was replaced, although he would
never have said anything about it. This one
was obviously gay.

Some small jets are built with a large

table in the main cabin. They are for mile-
high business meetings.

This jet was small and fast. Its main job

was getting rich people moved in a hurry. It
was comfortable but no-nonesense. It had
speed, not frills.

Each time the steward came into the

main cabin, Hedda noticed how stunningly
attractive he was. "Such a waste," she

252/402

thought to herself, assuming that the stew-
ard was gay. "How come the 'gay gene' al-
ways comes with the 'good looks gene'?" she
wondered.

"Blip," she said when the steward walked

by her.

"Oh, honey," the steward said to Hedda,

"you're going to need to play with the
squelch knob on that gaydar or it's going to
drive you nuts. I got at least one more up
front driving this jet, and the jury's still out
on the co-pilot."

The steward was as fearless as he was

flamboyant.

The boys were on the sofa that lined most

of the left side of the main cabin. Its light tan
leather blended with the muted hues of the
entire jet. Alex's wheelchair was safely
clamped down in a large closet in the back of
the cabin.

Nathan sat with one arm around Alex's

back and the other holding Alex's hand.

253/402

"I'm sorry to hear about what a son-of-a-

bitch your dad was," Alex said so softly that
Nathan could barely hear him over the purr
of the engines.

"Yeah, it was tough for awhile."
"So, how long was your mother in jail for

killin' him?"

"Just until the jury found her Not Guilty,"

Nathan said. "She was protecting me, and
that counts in Texas."

"Rough times."
"About six months," Nathan said. "We

couldn't afford to get her out on bail or any-
thing. We couldn't even afford my hospital
bills."

Nathan's tone wasn't angry. He seemed

sad but without all the baggage that Alex was
carrying.

"CPS got me in their system for awhile,"

Nathan said.

"CPS?"

254/402

"Child Protective Services," Nathan ex-

plained. "You know, foster homes. I was
bounced into three families in six months. I
had relatives, but the state felt strangers
would be a better influence on my life than
my grandmother."

"That's wrong," Alex said.
"Yeah, I carried a lot of stuff inside my

head for a long time. Don't now, not so much
these days."

"Still hate him?" Alex asked.
"Yeah, probably," Nathan said. "But he

just acted out what right-wing kooks are
thinking. I see televangelists say people like
you and me are headed for hell, and I know
where dad got his hate for me."

"Assholes…"
Nathan just shrugged his shoulders. "Not

much I can do about it, except go postal or
something. That doesn't prove anything, ex-
cept maybe that I have as much hate as
them."

255/402

"Whacha mean?"
"I'm told to do unto others as I want them

to do unto me," Nathan said, "but that hurts
sometimes. They send me hate, and I'm sup-
posed to send love back to them. I mean, I
know the rules and stuff...."

"But is doesn't make it easy," Alex added.
"You know what St Francis said?"
"Love animals?" Alex asked.
"He said that it is in the very act of giving

that we receive."

"That's from a prayer or something, isn't

it?"

"Yeah, St Francis didn't really write the

prayer, but he gets the credit. It says that we
are loved by us loving others. And on a good
day, I see that. But when I think of what dad
did to me and mom, I'm not there yet. I don't
always think the kinds of thoughts I'm sup-
posed to think about him. When I hear about
your dad, I feel heat building up inside. And
when I see stupid politicians working up

256/402

everybody against me, I feel like I have
nobody to protect me…."

"But you don't get all bent like me," Alex

said.

"Sometimes, but I'm way out of control

then," Nathan admitted. "You ever seen a
Viking pissed?"

Alex chuckled.
"No, I mean it," Nathan said. "You heard

the word 'berserk'?"

"Like somebody who's mentally gone

mad?"

"Yeah," Nathan said. "Well it is really the

name of a kind of Scandinavian warrior.
They would attack in such a fury that every-
body on the other side would just drop dead
of heart attacks."

Alex laughed.
"No, I mean it," Nathan said. "Well, that's

the kind of blood I got in me. Remember
when I said not to get Viking blood boiling?"

257/402

"Yeah, but…."
"I wasn't kidding. A Viking in battle is a

complete savage who is so far out of control
that…."

Alex couldn't tell if Nathan was playing a

mind game or not. He made a note to back
off if he ever saw Nathan walking up to a
frenzy.

"So what the heck am I supposed to do

with my dad?" Alex said in the softest tone
he could remember using when talking about
Luigi Russo.

"You wanna go kill him?"
"Yeah, kinda."
"Did he stab you or cut off one of your

balls with rusty scissors?"

"No, just beat the livin' crap outta me."
"I was down in the basement," Alex said.
"Not

Texas

then:

don't

have

basements."

258/402

"New Jersey. Anyways, I was down there

with this guy, and we were doin' the nasty.
Kids stuff, you know. No kissin' 'cause that'd
mean you was queer. And here comes the old
man. Bobby jumped out through a little win-
dow in the basement that we used as a door
sometimes. I tried jumpin' too, but the old
man caught my ankle and pulled me back
in."

Nathan noticed that Alex was tensing up,

so he squeezed his lover's hands.

"He broke my nose on the window. Then

he picked up a 2-x-4 about four foot long and
started pounding my legs and back. I was
screaming to high heaven, but nobody came
to help. Nobody even came to look. And he
was usin' all kinds of words on me. And
when he was done screamin' and beatin'… he
just pulled me up by my fuckin' hair and
pushed me out that little window. Then he
slammed the window shut so hard it broke
the glass."

259/402

"Honey," Nathan said, "I am so sorry…"
Alex was crying when he said, "And that

bastard told me through the broken glass
that he'd call the cops if I ever set foot on his
property again. He said he ain't never had no
kid called Alessandro."

"How old were you?"
"14."
"Man...."
"I crawled out to the curb and tried to fig-

ure out what to do. It was already gettin'
dark, so I pulled myself into the alley. By the
time I pulled all the glass out, it was dark. So
I slept under a trash can holder… so nobody
could see me. I was trash for the neighbor-
hood anyway."

"Didn't call the cops?"
"Didn't think about it then," Alex said. "I

was the one in the wrong. I was the creepy
kid that liked other guys. Cops would just ar-
rest me."

260/402

"I went through that," Nathan said.

"Counselor said victims always feel like
they're at fault somehow."

"Yeah, that pretty much nailed me," Alex

said.

Nathan pointed to Mama Hedda, who

was watching a small TV screen. "She found
the DVD player."

"What's she watchin'?" Alex asked.
"Can't tell… Oh, Stepford Wives, I think."
About then, the steward came into the

main cabin and pulled out a dining table. It
somehow appeared from nowhere. It locked
to the floor in front of the sofa. Then he
swiveled one of the overstuffed chairs
around to face the table.

The steward came in with a tray that had

place settings for everyone. He set the table
without a single step wasted. He just made
things happen, not stopping long enough to
see that the boys were highly impressed at
the steward's handling of the interior.

261/402

"Hungry?" asked the steward.
"Absolutely," Hedda volunteered as she

stopped her in-flight entertainment in mid-
scene.

The boys laughed, and Nathan said,

"Mom looks like she's been flying like this all
her life."

Dinner was a fresh salad and everyone's

individual entrée. Nobody wanted wine, so
the steward brought out a pitcher of freshly
brewed iced tea. For dessert, he offered
crème brulée, ice cream, or cheesecake.

"You on the dessert menu?" Alex asked.
Nathan slapped the back of his head and

said, "remember that you can be made
crispy."

The steward winked at Mama Hedda and

took everyone's dessert orders.

Over crème brulée and cheesecake, Alex

told Hedda about her $10-thousand a month
'salary.'

262/402

He had already told her about the mil-

lions of dollars and the stock market and his
love for privacy. Now it was time to break the
news that Alex was not going to fund her act-
ivist ventures.

"No offense, Mama Hedda," Alex said.
"None taken, son," she said. "I do okay on

my own you know. Can you reverse the
salary? I don't really need it."

"Then give it away," Alex said. "It is yours

for the rest of your life."

"Mama," Nathan said, "you never have to

work another day in your life. If you want to
get involved with politics or some HIV char-
ity, you can do it without worrying about
paying the bills. And for what its worth, Alex
did the same thing for me."

Hedda looked at Alex. He nodded, con-

firming what Nathan had said.

She was motionless. She was…
"Shock…" Nathan said.

263/402

"I see the symptoms, Dr. Nilsson," Alex

laughed. "Prognosis, Dr. Russo?"

"Touch and go," Alex said.
"You like doing this to people?" Hedda

said.

"What? Giving out heart attacks?" Alex

asked.

"Yeah, and strokes."
"It has a certain level of entertainment,"

Nathan volunteered.

The boys gave each other a high-five as

Hedda just shook her head.

"One other thing," Alex said.
"No, dear," Hedda said, "an old lady like

me won't survive it."

"I've made a decision. In a moment, I'm

going to ask that ravishing steward who is
eavesdropping in the galley… (sound of
dropping dishes)… to bring me a telephone. I
have decided to go on to Jersey tonight, and

264/402

my fancy rich-folks service will make that
happen. Alex is going to visit the Old Man."

He paused to make sure everyone

understood.

"Oh, garçon," said Nathan. "Could you

bring the telephone that my drooling hus-
band was mentioning a moment ago?"

The steward appeared quickly with a

wireless phone and then left just as quickly.

"Nathan," Alex said, "I know you don't

have work now, and we're kind of a team.
Would you go with me? My loving father
needs to meet you before he croaks."

Nathan frowned, not being sure he

wanted to be part of such a thing. But Alex
needed a hand with moving around. Nathan
thought about what it would be like with
Alex gone, and that clinched it.

"Absolutely," Nathan said. "Count me in."
"Mama Hedda, I want you to know you

are welcome. I mean, we are going to Dallas.
I don't want to change that, even if I could.

265/402

'Sweet Meat' in there may have a date or
something."

"It's a small plane, honey" came a voice

from the galley, "but I'm under contract not
to talk."

"What's your name?" Alex hollered to-

ward the galley.

"Beverly," said the steward in the deepest

voice he could find. Then he stuck his head
into the main cabin: "Actually, it's Sean, but
you can call me 'sweet meat' any time you
want."

"Okay, Beverly," Nathan said. "Thanks."
Sean swept his hair back and went back

to the galley.

Hedda thought for a moment and said,

"You two go on. I need to get back to the
house and figure out how I fell in with two
guys like you."

Alex dialed the phone.
"Hi, Alessandro Russo… 32868… I'm air-

borne back to Dallas on a flight you

266/402

arranged… no, it's fine except the sassy
steward."

"I resemble that remark," came Sean's

voice over the jet's intercom system.

"In fact," Alex said, "I like his style. Could

you mark my file that whenever Sean the
steward is available, he is assigned to me?"

"Oh, Gaaaawd…" said the steward. "I

have a groupie."

"I apologize again for the lack of advance

notice but something has come up. Can you
get Nathan Nilsson and myself on to Eliza-
beth, New Jersey, this evening?... No, she'll
be staying in Dallas… two days. Nothing,
huh? Okay, how's about around noon tomor-
row? Great, thanks."

Alex hung up.
"They can't get us out tonight except by

something at DFW, probably American. So I
told them that tomorrow works just fine."

Nathan nodded.

267/402

"Oh, Beeeeverleeee," Alex said. "Guess

where you're going tomorrow."

"I'm resigning," Sean said.
That night, the boys got Hedda home and

sent the limo driver on his way. Alex sugges-
ted they make some kind of appearance at
the 'scene of the crime' again.

"The bar?" Nathan said. "Yeah, okay. I'm

kind of tired, so can we make it an early
night?"

"Absolutely," Alex said as Nathan rolled

his lover down the ramp at Hedda's house
and into Nathan's van.

At the bar, the boys got a standing ova-

tion. It was their first trip back since the ex-
plosion. The bartender noticed they arrived
together: "You hanging out together?"

Nathan said, "We're an item. I figured

somebody needed to keep an eye on this one.
He's a menace to society, you know."

268/402

At the end of the bar, Nathan recognized

Justin the state trooper.

"Hey, officer," Nathan said. "Babe, come

on down and let me introduce you to my
bodyguard."

"Justin, this is my new and improved lov-

er. Alex, this is the state trooper that helped
run my two-timing ex out of town."

"Hi," Justin said. "but I'm a former state

trooper."

"What happened?"
"Fired," Justin said. "It seems they don't

like queer-boys as officers of the Great State
of Texas."

"Was it…" Nathan said, assuming it had

something to do with the day the governor's
cavalcade ran over Nathan's car. The gov-
ernor had assigned Justin to take care of
Nathan that day.

"I don't know," Justin said. "Don't worry

about it. It wasn't your fault."

"Oh, man, I'm…"

269/402

"Not another word," Justin said. "Just

don't call me trooper anymore."

"At least let me buy you a drink," Nathan

said.

"Just soda," Justin said.
"Bar keep," Nathan said, "a round for the

three of us."

"Hey, Justin," Alex said, "we were headed

over to the table over there. It'd be su-
premely cool if my lover's Knight in Shining
Armor would join us."

"That'd be wonderful, but I don't want

to…"

"Come on, man," Alex said. "Any Knight

to my man is a Knight to me… or somethin'
profound like that."

Wheelchairs work better at tables.

Barstools were out of Alex's life for awhile.
There were a couple of steps down to the
tables of the bar. The owner thought it would
emphasize the bar. Alex had other thoughts:
"so much for making things handicap-

270/402

friendly." What's worse is FedEx trucks,
blocking the handicapped spaces at build-
ings. Alex hollered at a driver once, but the
driver just said he was only going to be there
a minute or so. Alex said he didn't see that
listed as an exception in the laws about using
and blocking handicap parking spaces. Alex
said it was good to know that FedEx was giv-
en an exception to the law. From that time,
Alex never used FedEx. He even told his law-
yer and stock broker to avoid FedEx. It's
funny how a couple of snotty employees can
ruin things for an entire company, but that's
what they did.

On the way to the table, Justin excused

himself for a quick trip to the facilities. It
gave Alex and Nathan just enough time for a
quick chat.

"Is he good people?" Alex asked.
"Far as I can tell. Got fired by the gov-

ernor, so that makes him okay in my book."

271/402

Justin was returning to the table when a

commotion at the bar got his attention.

The former state trouper walked up to see

what was going on. After a moment or two,
some loud clanks announced that whatever-
it-was had turned serious.

In a flash, a man was on the ground and

Justin was standing over him. The guy on his
back looked worried. Justin looked like he
always looked: confident and calm. The con-
frontation was over almost as quickly as it
had started. Except for those clanks, you
wouldn't

have

known

anything

was

happening.

The bartender had pushed his secret pan-

ic button, and police officers started arriving
in a few minutes later.

Justin stayed with them for five minutes

or so. He seemed to know some of them.

"Sorry," Justin said. "Some tweak-head

came in with a gun and tried to hold up the
place."

272/402

"Armed robbery?"
"Not a big deal," Justin said. "He just

needed things explained to him."

"But I barely saw you move, and there

wasn't much commotion," Nathan said.

Justin shrugged his shoulders and said,

"I'm so glad the cops have to do the paper-
work! I just got to do the fun part."

"But you weren't armed."
""Sure I was. I had my own two arms and

a whole bunch of know-how."

Alex leaned in to speak in softer tones.
"So, what are your plans?" Alex asked.
"Economy's kinda tanked right now,"

Justin said. "Don't worry. I'm good at what I
do, so I'll get somethin'."

Justin's twang was about as Texan as you

could get. It was quite a contrast to Alex's
eastern accent.

"We could tell you're good," Nathan said.

"He had a gun, you had nothing..."

273/402

"I had a brain that wasn't tweaked all to

hell on drugs," Justin said.

Alex jumped into the conversation: "With

me in this fuckin' wheelchair for a lot more
months than I like, I really need somebody
who can help get me around."

"You want a driver?" Justin said.
"Driver, bodyguard, and somebody who

can bench-press whatever I weigh."

Justin thought for a moment.
"I'll pay you whatever the state paid you

plus 20-percent, plus health insurance and
whatever other benefits a trooper gets. I can
guarantee you at least a year, and we can talk
after that. And can you start, say, at about 8
tomorrow morning?"

Justin looked at Nathan, who just

shrugged his shoulders.

"He's shittin' me, right?" Justin asked

Nathan.

274/402

"Not so's you'd notice," Nathan said. "If

he makes you an offer, you can take it to the
bank that he's serious."

After the three finished their drinks,

Nathan and Justin got Alex into the van.

"See you tomorrow," Alex said.
"Thanks, man," Justin said.
"Oh, when you come," Alex remembered,

"bring clothes for about a 2-day trip."

Justin looked confused. Nathan just

shrugged his shoulders.

As the boys drove away, Justin tried to

figure out what just happened. This poor
street kid in a wheelchair was acting like the
Alpha of the relationship, and he was talking
like he could afford things.

Justin decided to play along because he

felt like Nathan might need some muscle. He
wasn't holding out much hope that Alex
could actually pay him anything.

275/402

"What was that about?" Nathan said in

the van.

"Dude needs work, and we need a body-

guard. That's all."

"Bodyguard? Been threats against you,

babe?"

"Nothin' Justin can't handle. One creepy

guy found out about the money and tried to
move in on me. And once, this journalist put
two and two together. I just figure it couldn't
hurt."

"Okay," Nathan said. "Why so early?"
"Stock market," Alex said. "You can go,

but it's just me alone in a closed room with a
bunch of books and papers. Not much fun
for you. And to keep my head on straight, I
have to be alone to think in there. I don't
want to tell you to scram, but I don't mind
sayin' that to an employee."

Nathan relaxed a little, but he wasn't

completely sure that Alex was telling him
everything about the threats.

276/402

"You kind of made a snap judgment on

Justin, didn't you?"

"Don't think so," Alex said. "Bein' unem-

ployed totally sucks, and the man had every
right to be down in the dumps. Some bozo
walks into the bar with a gun drawn, and
Justin reacted with a cool head. He was un-
armed but took down the asshole with no
trouble. It says that on his worst day, Justin
is still cool and can focus when he has to."

"Yeah, I see."
"Can Justin and I borrow the van in the

morning?" Alex asked.

"And if I said no?"
"I'd have him knock you off or

somethin'," Alex said.

"I'm going with you," Nathan said.
Alex nodded.
"You really blew Justin's mind in half,"

Nathan continued. "You know that, don't
you?"

277/402

"Kinda fun," Alex said. "Oh, come on. You

enjoyed it just a little… the bein' mysterious
and sultry and stuff…."

278/402

At the downtown skyscraper, Justin and

Nathan got Alex and his wheelchair. They
went to park the van, and Alex asked them to
go find Jordan Mosley on the 23rd floor.

Alex went to see the lawyer and leave him

some instructions, then he disappeared
downstairs into the stock broker's office.

When Nathan and Justin arrived, the

lawyer's secretary was waiting for them.

"Mr. Mosley will see you in about ten

minutes," she said. "Alex didn't give us much
warning you were coming."

"That's Alex," Nathan said.
"Can I get you any coffee or soda?"
Nathan and Justin said they were fine

and sat in the lobby of the law firm.

Right on schedule, the lawyer came out.
"Hi," he said, "I'm Jordan Mosley. Who's

Justin and who's Nathan?"

They all shook hands and the lawyer in-

vited them into his office.

"Alex didn't give me any advance notice

you'd be coming, so I wasn't prepared ahead
of time. I apologize for making you sit."

Nathan wasn't surprised by any of it.

Justin was, but he didn't know Alex that well.

"First, Nathan," the lawyer said, "I have a

pre-nup for you to sign. Let me give it to you.
It's a kind of standard document, and I think
you'll find that you are well taken care of."

The lawyer handed Nathan a stack of

legal-sized papers stapled at the top. The
lawyer pointed him to a chair at the side of
the office, "Sit here, Mr. Nilsson, and don't
hesitate to stop my conversation with Mr.
Miller if you have any questions."

"Mr. Miller…"

280/402

"Justin, just call me Justin."
"Okay, Justin. And please call me

Jordan," said the lawyer. "I don't know how
much you know about Alex Russo."

"Apparently not much," Justin said

tentatively.

"Okay, let me clear up some things. Alex,

who I take it is your employer as of this
morning, has some personal privacy issues."

The lawyer stopped for a moment to

make sure the former state trooper was
keeping up.

"Before I go on, can I ask if you are will-

ing to keep our conversation confidential?"

"Sure,"

Justin

said

shrugging

his

shoulders.

"Okay, because what I am about to tell

you is information about Alex that he doesn't
want anyone to know. After we go through
everything, you can ask whatever you want.
But when you leave the office, I need to have
your

signature

confidentiality

281/402

statement. As part of your employment, you
are agreeing never to write a book about Alex
or his business… never to speak with a journ-
alist… and so forth and so on."

The lawyer paused again.
"Okay so far?"
Justin nodded.
"Have you ever heard of Alessandro

Russo?"

"Yeah," said Justin. "He's the rich… oh,

my God."

"As you guessed Alex and Alessandro are

one in the same," the lawyer said, giving the
former trooper a few minutes for the news to
sink in.

"I never would have guessed," Justin

said.

"Exactly my point!" said the lawyer. "Alex

comes off as a poor street kid, and that's just
the way he likes it."

"But…"

282/402

"No 'buts', really. Alex is Alex. He gets in-

to scrapes like any street kid in his twenties,
but he really a kind of one-person empire."

"And Texas has a lot of rich guys," Justin

said.

"You will need to wear a lot of hats as his

employee. I think you're his only full-time
employee." The lawyer looked over at Nath-
an who just shrugged his shoulders.

"Well, anyway, I think you probably are

his only employee. There are plenty of kooks
out there, and one or two of them may figure
out who Alex is."

"Have there been threats?"
"Not that I know of, but Alex doesn't tell

me everything."

"Me either apparently," Justin laughed.
"Okay, so one thing is bodyguard. I pre-

sume it's even better to anticipate and pre-
vent problems, but you'd know more about
that than me."

283/402

"Roger that," Justin said in his old 'troop-

er voice.'

"Another job is keeping Alex's privacy.

Take care of issues you can, and prevent
what you can. If you get into a situation —
like a pushy journalist — contact me immedi-
ately. My secretary will give you all my phone
numbers and e-mail addresses."

"I understand," Justin said.
"Because Alex has a lot going on, he

sometimes needs a kind of 'appointment sec-
retary.' He will never ask you to do this, if I
know Alex, but he will appreciate it if you
take that upon yourself."

"Okay, so long as I don't have to take dic-

tation or shorthand."

The lawyer wasn't sure whether or not he

was being serious. Okay, he was kidding.

"No dictation. I'll get that in your con-

tract," the lawyer dead-panned. Nathan, who
was off in the corner reading, shook his
head.

284/402

"Can I add something?" Nathan said.
"Certainly," the lawyer said.
"Keep a bag packed. By the way, we go

from here to New Jersey on a private jet. And
this stuff happens all the time."

The trooper looked at the ceiling trying to

take everything in.

"Not a problem. I think."
"Get a passport, too, if you don't have

one," Nathan added.

"I'm sure there are some other things that

I forgot," the lawyer admitted, "but those are
the major points."

"Points everywhere," Nathan interjected.
"I know that's right," said Justin.
"Okay, let's get you and Nathan changed

around so I can talk to him. Take a moment
and read this packet of papers. It is a stand-
ard agreement with only a few changes be-
cause I didn't have much advance warning,"
said the lawyer.

285/402

"As soon as you sign, by the way," the

lawyer continued as Justin and Nathan star-
ted changing places, "I am able to tell you
that your monthly salary will double. You
will also get a fully covered health insurance
plan, and Alex will be funding a pension or
401(k) plan. I don't have any details on this,
but I'll figure something out."

"Not a problem," Justin said as he tried

to absorb everything. Justin knew he could
either play the part of a good friend or just
become invisible. He was good at both.

"Any questions on your paperwork, Mr.

Nilsson?" the lawyer asked.

"None," Nathan said. "Does Alex know

about this?"

"Is it not fair to you?"
"Perfectly fair. Completely fair," Nathan

said, "but my question is this: does Alex
know you are asking me to sign this?"

"No, but..."

286/402

"Then I want to wait until he and I talk."
"Okay, that's fine," the lawyer said with a

tinge of defeat in his voice. He really didn't
like lawyers even if his own mother was one.

Justin walked up to the desk and handed

the lawyer the set of papers. "Signed," he
said.

The lawyer pressed a button on the inter-

com and asked his secretary to come into his
office.

"Could you make copies of this packet for

Mr. Miller to take with him?" the lawyer said
to the secretary, who took the packet and left
the room.

"Gentlemen," said the lawyer, "that's

about all I have. Any questions for me?"

No questions
The lawyer showed Justin and Nathan to

a waiting area where the secretary handed
Justin copies of his contract.

287/402

"Any idea how long Alex stays at Kevin's

office?" Nathan asked.

"No idea at all, sorry," said the lawyer.

"Would you rather wait there?"

"No that's okay," Nathan said, "but is

there some office or meeting room where
Justin and I can go to talk?"

"Sure," the secretary said, "I will take

them to the southeast meeting area. Nothing
is set for there until after lunch."

"Anything you want to ask me now that

we're in private?" Nathan said.

"You're in my contract, you know."
"Come again? Could you smooth that out

a little?"

"It says that if you and I ever have sex,

then I immediately lose my job."

"I'm beginning not to like that sheister,"

Nathan said. "I don't know how to put this
without being weird, but I really am in love
with Alex."

288/402

"I know."
"I fell in love with him in the hospital be-

fore I knew about his money."

"I figured."
"But that part about you and me is de-

meaning. I had no intentions on…"

"Nathan, I signed the paper. No offense

to you or anything, but you're not my type."

"Nathan?"
"Yeah."
"You're upset you're not my type?"
"Nathan."
"I'm upset because loving Alex has star-

ted having a lot of baggage."

"May I carry some of the baggage for

you?"

"Huh?"
"You're Alex's lover, so just be that. Let

me worry about what I'm paid to be worrying
about."

"I don't…"

289/402

"Don't get me wrong," the ex-trooper

said, "I know Alex didn't intend on hiring me
until he heard I was …"

"You were not an 'impulse item' at the

checkout stand," Nathan corrected.

"No, but it was a sympathy thing to start

with. Let me try to make myself valuable.
That's how the world works, and I'm happy
with that."

"Who cares if the lawyer is putting more

into writing than he should," Justin said.

"Huh?"
"I'm used to working around people try-

ing to get everything covered."

"CYA?"
"Yeah, you could say that. Politics is

worse than what you saw from the lawyer.
Don't forget, I guarded politicians for years.
And they're a higher profile target than a
bartender."

"Aren't politicians usually lawyers?"

290/402

"Probably."
"If I ever seem distant or aloof," Justin

said, "it's just my way of being professional. I
have a lot of years doing this kind of gig for a
living."

"Nothing personal, right?"
"Right."
"And when I get pissed at all the lawyers

and stock brokers, please know that I'm just
a regular guy who fell in love with…."

"The most studly goddam heart-throb in

the whole fuckin' world," said Alex at the
door. "Come on, lover, what's wrong?"

Justin got up and was out of the room so

quietly that Nathan didn't notice him
moving.

"The lawyer wants me to sign a pre-nup-

tial agreement," Nathan said.

"Fuck it," Alex said. "Don't sign it."
"I didn't. Said you and I would talk. The

lawyer seemed pissed a little."

291/402

"He was coloring outside the lines. I

didn't ask him to do that."

"He got Justin to sign a contract that said

he would be fired if he and I had sex."

Alex squinted his eyes and thought about

that. Then he laughed and said, "He would
not be fired. That's silly. Relax, babe."

"Thanks."
"No need to fire a dead man," Alex said.
Nathan felt a chill run down his spine.

"Don't talk like that in front of… Hey,
where'd he go?"

"He gave us space," Alex said. "If I know

him, he's within ear shot if you raise your
voice a little."

"How'd you figure that?"
"'Cause that's where I'd be," Alex

laughed.

"Justin?" Alex said a little louder than his

regular voice. The ex-trooper was there in a
flash.

292/402

"Sir?"
"Oh, man," Alex said. "Do you have to call

me 'sir'?"

"Yes, sir," Justin said.
"Sit, please, "Alex said. "Let me say a

couple of things so you both hear the same
words. Nathan, you're the man in my life. I
hate this business shit, but it was the hand I
got dealt."

Nathan reached out and took Alex's hand.
"Justin's here because we both need him

to be. He's a pro at this or I wouldn't have
asked him onboard. If it looks like he's walk-
ing a little behind us, he's not doing it be-
cause we're somehow better. It's because he's
got really good training, and he will be in the
place where he can jump in to bail my butt
out of a jam. Yours too, by the way."

Justin nodded.
"But I'm not…"

293/402

"It isn't a fuckin' 'three-way' we're having

here," Alex said slamming a fist on the table.

"I know," Nathan said. "I'm sorry… I

just…"

Nathan got up, crying, and left the room.
"Shall I get him?" Justin asked.
"No, let me. Sorry about this, Justin.

Could you give us some space for a few
minutes?"

Alex rolled his wheelchair as fast as he

could and Nathan found him at the elevator
landing.

"Ding," said the elevator.
"Don't go," Alex said. "I love you."
"Then why do you… can you give back all

the money? It's messing everything up. I fell
in love with the guy that was poor in the wal-
let but rich inside his heart."

Nathan tried to pull away, but Alex held

him tightly.

294/402

"I'm… we're about to go get on a jet that

will take me to see a family that wrote me off
more than a decade ago."

Nathan stopped pulling away.
"If you ain't by me, then I don't wanna

face the bitches. When you ain't with me,
then I'm only half there."

Nathan knelt beside Alex's wheelchair.
"Before the asshole dies," Alex said slowly

like he was weighing each word, "I want
Luigi Russo to meet his son-in-law."

Both boys had tears welling up in their

eyes. They sat near the elevators for some
time. People were coming and going, but the
boys ignored them.

"Good times and bad, right?" Alex said.
Nathan nodded.

295/402

Sean, the steward, was waiting for the

boys in the private lounge at Love Field in
Dallas.

"Beverly!" shrieked Alex.
"Your majesty," said Sean with a low bow.

"Nathan."

"I'm Justin, the hired gun," said the ex-

trooper to the steward.

"Beef, chicken, vegetarian?" Sean asked

Justin.

"You, when I'm off the clock," Justin said.

"Anything 'til then."

Sean's legs almost gave out under him,

but he grabbed a chair. Nathan got a warm
glow: Sean is Justin's 'type'." It's a weird
world we live in.

"Got it then. Ready to head east?" Sean

asked. "Pilots are already onboard."

"Let's go," Alex said.
"And wait until you see the jet I got for

you two this time," Sean said. "I had to sell
my soul to a Turkish slave trader in Mada-
gascar, but you're gonna love it."

The jet started with a small galley, then

came a tiny seating area with some leather
chairs. It was a little thing, as far as Nathan
could tell. He didn't see any big deal about
the jet.

Alex greeted the pilot and co-pilot as

Nathan pushed the wheelchair into the
cabin.

Sean opened a door at the back of the

seating area. It revealed a large bedroom.
Nathan noticed that Sean had laid out two
bathrobes on the bed. He could see a bowl
full flowers on one nightstand, and a bowl
full of condoms on the other.

297/402

"Will you be requiring a meal?" Sean

asked, "or shall I leave the door sealed."

You could have picked Nathan's jaw off

the floor. Nathan had never even thought of
seeing a complete bedroom on a jet, yet here
it was.

"Oh, for God's sake, Nathan," Alex said,

"do you have to cry at every little thing?"

Nathan started laughing and crying at the

same time. He turned to Sean and mouthed
"Thank you" to the steward.

"We'll buzz you if we need you," Nathan

said. "Justin… Sean… take the night off."

"Aye-aye, sir," Sean said. Justin mouthed

the words "Thank you" to Nathan.

Nathan rolled Alex's wheelchair into the

bedroom as he said, "Let's roll."

Just after the plane was airborne, the in-

tercom buzzed in the galley.

"Yes, sir?" Sean said.

298/402

Nathan's voice came over the speaker:

"Are there membership I.D. cards for the
'Mile High Club'?"

Justin answered for Sean, "Yes sir, it's a

card you carry forever in your heart."

Justin counted to fifteen and said "I know

Nathan's crying. Do you need any tissues?"

There was no answer.
Two hours into the flight, the speaker

came on: "In preparation for our arrival in
Teterboro, please put your seatbacks in their
upright

position,

and

store

all

your

condoms."

It was Nathan's voice.
"Sir?" came Sean's voice back. "May I

help you?"

"No, everything is wonderful."
"We will be on the ground in about 15

minutes," Sean said.

"If y'all are decent," Nathan said, "may I

come out for a bit?"

299/402

"Yes, sir."
The bedroom door opened, and Nathan

appeared in one of the two plush bathrobes
that Sean had arranged across the bed. Sean
and Justin were standing in the galley look-
ing back toward the bedroom door. Nathan
walked up to Sean and kissed him on the
lips.

"I can really get used to passengers like

you," Sean said.

Nathan said, "The master has asked me

to pass along an invitation for you and Justin
to join us for dinner after we land."

"You aren't going to let me cook for you?"

Sean asked.

"Apparently not," Nathan said. "He's

been

the

phone

making

the

arrangements."

"Are you using the jet for lodgings then?"

Sean said, sounding confused.

300/402

"No, we have made arrangements in the

city. How long do you need to close down
this jet and be off-duty, Sean?"

"That's up to the captain, but it's usually

an hour or so."

Nathan said, "Will the captain… how

many people are up there?"

"Two," Sean said.
"Will they get pissed if we drag you

away?" Nathan asked.

"The rule says that I can't fraternize with

the client."

"Is there a rule to prevent you from frat-

ernizing with an employee of the client?"
Alex said from the doorway of the bedroom.
He had pulled himself out of the bed by him-
self, crawled over to where the wheelchair
was latched and gotten himself in the chair.
As usual Alex was the one who could come
up with an angle.

301/402

"No, sir," Sean said. "I don't think that's a

rule, but it would be simpler if the pilot and
the company didn't know about it."

Alex looked at Nathan and said, "Sean,

we're all about not telling people things."

"One problem," Nathan said.
"There's always a problem," Justin said

laughing.

"New York is really jammed tonight," said

Nathan.

Alex took over the conversation, saying,

"I'm afraid that the hotel only had two
rooms. We'll be in one, but do you guys mind
sharing quarters for just this one night?"

"We'll manage, sir," Sean said.
"Dang, I love this job," Justin said.
"Yeah, but I am so fired if they find out,"

Sean said under his breath.

302/402

The next morning, the limousine com-

pany came to the hotel in New York with a
'stretch van.'

When Nathan saw it, he said, "Only in

New York."

"Dallas has stretch pickups and Hum-

mers," Justin said.

"Where's Sean?" Nathan asked Justin as

they rolled Alex into the van.

"Still asleep," Justin said. "Thanks for last

night, boss."

"No problem," Alex said. "Go on back up

there, Justin. This is a family thing today, so
I don't think I'll need… second thought,
you'd better come."

"I was planning to," Justin said.

"Thanks. The Russo family can be weird

sometimes," Alex said. "Did I give you all the
addresses?"

"Yes, sir," said the van driver. "Where

first?"

"Hospital, I guess," Alex said.
The driver nodded.
"No," Alex corrected. "We'd better case

out the house first. It's the address in
Elizabeth."

"That's fine."
"Need directions?"
"No sir," the driver said, "you just take it

easy back there and I'll get you there."

Justin went to the front and sat in the

passenger seat, leaving Alex and Nathan in
the back.

"This day's gonna be rough," Alex told

Nathan. "I'm sure glad you're here with me."

Nathan just squeezed Alex's hand. The

wheelchair was bolted to the side of the van

304/402

so it wouldn't fly around. Alex and Nathan
were on a long leather bench in the shape of
the letter "J."

"Hey, could you look if there's a soda in

the fridge?"

"It's full," Nathan said, "Coke as usual?"
"Diet Coke today. Thanks."
The van got dark as it went through the

Holland Tunnel. It was an eerie homecoming
for Alex. He recognized the sites along I-95
as they headed toward his boyhood home in
Elizabeth, New Jersey: Ferry Street, Oak Is-
land. The grayness of this part of the 'Garden
State' was stark: industrial and drab.
Everything about New York City and New
Jersey around Newark seemed heavy with
iron and rust. It looked like it was built a
long time ago by people who wanted
everything to stay put for a long time. There
was little that was fancy or over-adorned.
Things had function.

305/402

Once they were off the Interstate high-

way, Alex saw pockets of green. Most of the
houses were square boxes with a tiny front
yard. The first floor was usually a one-car
garage, and stairs led up to the entrance.

"Crap," Alex said looking around for the

intercom to the front of the van. There was a
Plexiglas divider so that the riders in the
back had privacy.

Nathan crawled up toward the front and

knocked on the divider.

"Sir?" came a voice through an unseen

speaker.

"I forgot that the house has a staircase in

front," Alex said.

"Not a problem. Mr. Miller and I can get

you upstairs with no problems."

"Thanks," Alex said.
Alex looked like he was enjoying the sites:

"Hey, old man Torino's still got his barber
shop. And lookie there… we gotta go to the

306/402

Elizabeth Diner while we're here. Texas just
ain't got greasy-spoons like Jersey."

After a few minutes, the van turned onto

Laura Street.

"We're here, almost," Alex said. "I sure

am glad you're with me, lover."

The van pulled up to a boxy house

painted a cream color. It looked like most of
the other houses on the street.

Justin pulled open the side door of the

'stretch van' and said, "You want me to go up
and see if anyone's home? Or do you just
want to surprise them?"

"I don't know," Alex said. It was the first

time Nathan could remember hearing Alex
without a clear plan.

"Let's let Justin head up first," Nathan

said. Alex nodded.

Justin walked up the flight of stairs, rang

the doorbell, and stood there for a couple of
minutes. Just as he was about to turn and
walk back to the van, the door opened

307/402

slightly. Alex couldn't see who it was. Justin
talked with the unseen person for what
seemed like an eternity.

After awhile, the door opened. Alex's

mother appeared at the top of the stairs. She
had lost a lot of weight and looked old.

Rosa Russo held onto the railing tightly

as she walked down the stairs. Justin was be-
side her, ready to catch her if she fell.

Alex's mother wasn't very old: about fifty-

something, but she'd had a rough life. Hav-
ing her husband in the hospital took its toll.

"Come on in, mama," Alex said. "I'd get

out to greet you proper but I'm kind of an in-
valid right now."

The woman stepped into the van and saw

the son she lost a decade before.

"Oh, Alessandro," she said. "Ti amo."
Alex waited a moment before responding

to that. It was hard for him to pretend the
last ten years never happened, but he had

308/402

decided to go through this day without
cracking and without losing his temper.

"And I love you, too, mama."
"Vivete a Dallas?" the woman said.
"Sì, mama," Alex said, "but nobody else

knows Italian here."

"I'm sorry," she said. "You know when I

get emotional, Italian is all I know."

"Mama," said Alex, "this is Nathan. He's

the person I love. He's your son-in-law,
mama."

Rosa Russo looked at Alex and Nathan.

She let her eyes drift to the floor of the van as
she took in the news.

"Cattolici?" she asked.
"He's a member of the Liberal Catholic

Church, mama. We go there every week."

"Non è italiano," she said.
"English, mama," Alex said. "No, he's

Swedish."

Rosa looked at Alex with a blank stare.

309/402

"Svedese, mama," Alex said. "He's

Swedish."

"Oh, sì," she said. "Welcome to the fam-

ily, figlio."

"She called you her son, Nathan," Alex

said.

Nathan instinctively walked over to

where Rosa was sitting in the van and put his
arm around her.

"Gratsee, Mrs. Russo," Nathan said.

"Gratsee."

She burst into tears at hearing the

Swedish-American man trying to talk to her
in Italian. Seeing her crying made Nathan's
tears well-up, but Nathan could cry at the
drop of a hat.

"Benvenuti," said Rosa Russo. "Welcome

to Jersey. You hungry, Alessandro? This man
of yours not feedin' you right?"

Nathan laughed through his tears.
"Mama, it's all good," Alex said.

310/402

"Camminata?" she asked.
"English, mama."
"You walk okay? That your chair? From

that day when you left? O, Maria…"

"No, mama," Alex said. "I was hurt in an

explosion… esplosione… and the doctors are
still fixing me up."

"Papa?"
"Cancro," she said.
"I know it's cancer. Is he in the hospital

or here?"

"Non ospedale," she said. "Not in the hos-

pital or here. It is a place to go and die."

"Hospice?" Nathan asked.
"Sì, sì, sì," she said. "Hospice. You see

him today?"

"Sì, mama," Alex said. "Will he want to

see me?"

"He loves you in his… you know. First

come up and I cook."

311/402

"No, mama," Alex said. "I'm buying you

lunch at the Elizabeth Diner."

"You know the owner? Francesco? He

died one… two years ago… in pacé" she said
crossing herself. Nathan crossed himself too.

"Food still good?" Alex asked.
"Yeah, so-so. Not like mine, though. We

go up and I cook."

"Justin?" Alex said. When Justin looked

in from the outside. "Could you close us up
and go lock the house, and then ask the
driver to take us to the Elizabeth Diner?"

"Yes sir."
"We passed it on the way," Alex added.
"Chiave, Alessandro," said his mother.
"Duh," Alex said taking the house key

from his mother. Nathan opened the van and
started to take the key up to Justin. He didn't
have to: Justin was waiting for it with an
open hand just outside the van.

312/402

"The driver is from around here, so I

think he knows the area," Alex said.

"Linden," said the driver.
"They have an airport in Linden," Alex

told Nathan. "We should have flown into
there."

"Next time," Nathan said.
"Teterboro's better for you," said the

driver as Justin got back into the front seat.

Rosa was still protesting when the van

started moving. She wasn't dressed to go out.
Her cooking was better than a diner.

Nathan admired the way she animated

the conversation with her hands. She didn't
need punctuation.

At the diner, Alex ordered potato pan-

cakes, saying nobody outside of the east
coast knows how to make them.

Alex lied to Mrs. Russo about the money.

When she asked about the fancy van, he told
her that Nathan was the one with the money.

313/402

"Rich cowboy," Alex said. "Ricco, mama.

He takes care of me good."

"Where's my 10-gallon hat when I really

need it," Nathan said.

Justin and the van driver were sitting at a

separate booth between Alex and the front
door. It was Justin's standard place to be, so
he could intercept any incoming trouble.

Trouble usually didn't come looking for

Alex, of course. Alex went out looking for it
on his own.

Alex caught up on all his relatives: who

died, who had kids, who moved here from
the Old Country, and who retired to Florida.

Nathan learned that the Russo family

came from Brindisi, a port city of about
100,000 people in southeastern Italy. They
did a lot of trade with Greece, apparently.

Rosa Russo had come close to having her

husband arrested for beating Alex, but a Ro-
man Catholic priest at the neighborhood
church talked her out of it. The agreement

314/402

that Luigi Russo made was to go to counsel-
ing, which he did for five years.

"How come you never left him?" Alex

asked.

"Oh, Alessandro," Rosa said, "I made a

promise to God. I love you both, and I looked
all over for you. Hospitals never saw you.
Salvation Army never… no shelters."

"I was scared and hiding, mama."
"I was scared also, Alessandro," Rosa

said. "I was scared for you, and I was scared
for me."

"For you, mama?"
"I don't know what Luigi was going to do.

Maybe he comes for me. So I spent three
years with your Aunt Anna."

"Three years?" Alex said.
"Sì, Alessandro. And after I come back

here, he and I never slept in the same room
again. Not since the day you left."

315/402

"I wish I knew all this," Alex said. "I

coulda…"

"You coulda nothin'," she said, waving

her hands. "You coulda called, but you were
just a kid. And no kid needs to be put out like
you. I don't know what to think about you
and Luigi. I didn't do right to nobody..."

"It's over, mama," Alex said. "It's all over

now."

"You and me, we're like each other, Aless-

andro," Rosa said.

After lunch, Nathan paid the bill for

everyone, including Justin and the van
driver. He used a weird-looking black Amer-
ican Express card that Alex had gotten for
him. This "Centurion" card was sometimes
more trouble than it was worth because only
the fanciest places ever knew such a thing ex-
isted. Other stores assumed it was a scam or
a hoax.

316/402

Justin and the driver got Alex into the

van, and they started driving to the hospice
in Roselle Park.

Nathan could tell his lover was nervous

about this meeting, but he was very proud of
him for making the effort. He was going to
face the man who once tried to kill him and
who threw him away like a used piece of toi-
let paper. What's more, Alex was determined
to do this meeting with class. It was on his
own terms: nobody was forcing him to go.
Nobody would have blamed him if he didn't
go.

Rosa walked beside her son as Nathan

pushed the chair up the sidewalk of the
hospice.

Once inside, she saw the priest from her

neighborhood parish. They spoke in Italian
but Rosa's tears and Alex's expression told
Nathan that Luigi had died or was about to
die.

317/402

Rosa knew the way to his room and

began running. Nathan tried to keep up but
finally let Justin take over pushing the
wheelchair. Nathan wasn't a wimp, but his
leg was still weaker than it should be from
the explosion in the tavern six months
earlier.

Luigi was still alive but barely. His skin

looked like wrinkled crepe paper hanging
loosely from his bones. Beeping machines
and sterile meters marked the man's condi-
tion with a futile efficiency that was all about
science and nothing about dignity.

At the signal of some hidden timer, a

blood-pressure band around the man's arm
sprang to life with a buzz and a whoosh.
Luigi Russo was about to die, and Nathan
wondered why the hospital would insist on
causing what must have been additional pain
to his arms. What tidbit of knowledge was
this equipment giving to the nurses?

318/402

Rosa spoke to her husband softly then

motioned for Alex to come to the other side
of the bed. In the wheelchair, Alex was level
with Luigi Russo's head.

Nathan noticed Luigi's nose. He could see

the family resemblance in his lover's bone
structure. It was the only thing he recognized
because cancer had already taken most of the
older man's body and spirit.

When Alex motioned for Nathan to come

up beside him, Nathan shook his head: no.
Alex rolled over and took Nathan's hand and
took him up to the bed.

Nathan had no idea what Rosa and Alex

were saying to the man. They were talking
way too fast for him to pick out any words fa-
miliar to him through knowing Spanish.

The priest walked over to stand by Rosa.
In a few moments, Nathan saw the cloudy

eyes of the man look at him. Luigi raised a
trembling hand. It was as though he wanted
to hold Nathan's hand.

319/402

Just as Nathan reached out to him, Luigi

Russo died.

"He apologized," Alex told Nathan later.

"He asked for me to pray for him and forgive
him."

Nathan put his arm around his lover.
"The bastard took away the only thing he

hadn't already taken from me."

"What's that, babe?"
"Anger," Alex said. "Hatin' him is the only

thing that kept me goin' some days. And now
the bastard's apologized at the last minute."

Some days Nathan couldn't relate to Alex.

Some days Alex was in a world of his own
with goofy ideas and weird attitudes.

Today was not one of those weird days.

Today, Nathan understood exactly what Alex
was saying.

Nathan knew hatred and had the scars on

his body to remind him.

320/402

"Be grateful, Alex," Nathan said. "You got

closure. All I got from my dad is scars from a
rusty pair of scissors."

"Some days really suck," Alex said.
"You want to know sucky days?" Nathan

said into his lover's ear so nobody else could
hear him.

"What?"
"Any idea where your papa is right now? "

Nathan said. "Any idea who he's talking to?
Any idea what kind of words he's using to ex-
plain what he did to you?"

"Man," Alex chuckled, "you got a mean-

spirited imagination some days. Remind me
never to get crossways with you."

"Or mom," Nathan said.

321/402

Funerals draw people together, even

people you don't like or don't like you. Alex
saw plenty of uncles and aunts, cousins and
friends, who came to Luigi Russo's funeral.
They came to Rosa's house, bringing enough
food to feed the entire Eastern Seaboard.

He saw his Aunt Tessa for the first time

since her husband died. She was dressed for
the kill: "Hasn't found a replacement," Alex
noted to himself. Tessa was the society mat-
ron of the family, always dripping with cos-
tume jewelry and a my-shit-don't-stink atti-
tude toward the rest of the family.

He saw his cousin, Mario, who was with a

woman and a band of little children. Mario
must have gotten married and had been busy

breeding. When Alex waved at Mario, his
cousin acted like he didn't know who Alex
was.

Alex walked up, "Hey, Cousin."
"Hi," came a cold response from Mario.
"Been a long time, man. This your

family?"

"Yeah," Mario said.
There was one of those long pauses that

make everyone uncomfortable. Mario wasn't
going to say anything more than grunts and
one-syllable answers.

"Hi," Alex said to the woman and kids.

He wanted to slap Mario around for being so
cold to him. They were fuck-buddies when
they were young. But now that Mario has a
girl and a family, he wants nothing to do
with Alex. Alex guessed that Mario was
afraid Alex would say something to the wife.
Mario was afraid that Alex would put a dent
in Mario's machismo.

323/402

"Hey, babe," Nathan said, coming from

the kitchen with two plates of finger foods.
"You need to eat something."

"Not hungry."
"Didn't say you were," Nathan countered.

"But there's so much food stacked up in the
kitchen that your mom is afraid it will break
the floor."

"Oh, whatever," Alex said taking one of

the plates.

Just then the front door opened, and an-

other family walked in.

It was Alex's big sister, Rosalia, and what

was most likely her husband and kids. She
looked at Alex but just whooshed past him
and went into the kitchen. In a few minutes
the sounds from the kitchen were impossible
to ignore.

"Kick him out of your house, mama,"

Rosalia screamed. "I don't want 'his kind'
around my children."

324/402

There was a pause when nobody in the

living room could hear anything. Apparently
the discussion was ongoing.

"They're

your

grandkids,

mama,"

screamed Rosalia. Nathan thought he saw
the swinging door to the kitchen rattle. "I
don't want to be near him, and I don't want
my family to be."

Nathan

glanced

uncomfortably

into

space. Across the living room, he saw his
mother and recognized the expression on her
face. Hedda was becoming concerned. She
was slowly changing into Viking Warrior
Mother.

For a second, Nathan thought about go-

ing over to calm her down, but he decided to
stay with Alex and let things fly or fall.

As Hedda made her way into the kitchen,

the front doorbell rang. Without waiting for
an answer, five young men walked into the
Russo house. They all seemed to know Alex.

325/402

"I hear you'd be in town," said one. "We

all came to pay our respects."

"Thanks, Johnny," Alex said standing up

and putting his plate on a side table. "It
means a lot to hear you say that."

"Dude, I miss you," Johnny continued.

"We all did."

Each one came to hug Alex.
"I wudn'a come, if it was my old man,

considering what he did to you and all," said
one of the other young men.

"I'm here for mama," Alex said. "She

called and said she…"

"You got a good heart, man," said the

second man.

"Oh, hey, I'm bein' rude," Alex said as he

pulled at Nathan's arm. "Meet Nathan."

"Hey, Nathan." … "Hi, man." … "Good

ta' meet you, man."

"You finally settling down with some-

body?" Johnny asked.

326/402

"Nathan," said one of the other young

men. "You making Alex an honest guy for a
change?"

"Hey," Nathan said, "I'm a husband, not a

magician."

"What's new with you guys?" Alex asked.
"Married, divorced, re-married," Johnny

said. "Two kids."

"Johnny Mazewski breeding," Alex said.

"That is really scary, man."

"You know he named one Alex," said one

of the others. "Named the kid after you."

The news stopped Alex dead in his tracks.

The good-to-see-you bravado had turned
personal. Johnny and Alex had been child-
hood running buddies. They had experi-
mented a little with drugs and sex, but
mainly they were just friends.

They would rollerblade around the neigh-

borhood for hours in the summer, and they'd
study together during school.

327/402

Alex had gone on to do so many other

things that he had shoved Johnny to a corner
of his mind. Johnny was barely a memory.

Not so for Johnny, apparently. He kept

Alex's memory alive by keeping his name
alive in the next generation.

"Don't get any ideas from it," Johnny

said.

"Holy shit, man," Alex said. "I'm…"
"Speechless," said Nathan. "You have a

rare talent, Johnny."

"Hey, Alex," said another voice. It was the

boy Alex's father had caught in the Russo
basement all those years ago. They were
having kid-sex, and Luigi Russo had first run
off the other boy before throwing Alex
through the basement window. This was the
kid, now a man.

"Frank," Alex said. "Years treatin' you

good?"

328/402

"So so," Frank admitted. "Did a nickel

upstate," meaning that Frank was in prison
for five years.

"Bouncin' back?" Alex asked.
"Yeah, so far. Been clean for a year and a

half."

"Meth?"
"Naw, other way," Frank said. "Busted for

'H.'" (heroin)

"Good for you, getting clean and all."
"Thanks," Frank continued. "Prison guy

gave me one of those gifts that keep on
giving."

Frank had HIV disease. He didn't show it

on the outside.

"Dude, I am so sorry to…"
"Don't be, man. It's all cool. It's all cool."
"Frank's our diseased pariah," one of the

other young men said. "If it's illegal, he's
probably… you know…"

329/402

Frank raised his arms, like he was the

champion of a rough lifestyle. It was like he
wanted a medal for it all.

"I am," Frank said slowly, "the kind of

person my own mother warned me about."

"You carry it well, man," Alex said.
"Enough about us. What's with you and

your hunky blonde boyfriend?"

"Texas," Alex said.
"He's turned into tumbleweed."
"No, man. We live in Dallas."
"Oooo, you own oil wells? See J. R. Ewing

on the streets?"

"More likely 'Walker, Texas Ranger.'"
"Dallas is a big city," Alex said.

"Freeways, skyscrapers, the works."

Aunt Tessa came in from the kitchen and

announced that it was time to go to the fu-
neral home for Luigi's rosary.

All five of Alex's visitors gave him hugs.

These straight boys kissed the notorious fag.

330/402

They missed him, and they were relieved to
see he was doing okay.

Johnny and Frank both kissed Alex on

the mouth. He could understand a kiss from
Frank because he was probably gay, but
Johnny was another matter. Sure Alex and
Johnny had done plenty of sex together, but
it was all kids stuff. They were exploring
their own bodies in a way that couldn't in-
clude marriage. It was a safe way to learn
about sex, with a running mate. It wasn't like
you were going out to embarrass yourself in
front of a girl. It wasn't like you could ruin
your whole life with an unexpected baby in
high school.

But Johnny wasn't gay. He was only ex-

perimenting with Alex. They were friends,
but Johnny had a wife. What was this kiss on
the mouth? And it seemed like it lasted
longer than a friendly kiss should be. It was a
message from Johnny, but Alex had no idea
what the message might be.

331/402

As the friends were leaving, Nathan got

Alex back into the chair. Alex had been
standing longer than he should. He didn't
want his friends to see him crippled, so he
stood with an arm around Nathan's
shoulders. The local boys thought Alex was
just being affectionate. He was, but there
were some stability issues that Nathan hap-
pily provided.

Once Alex was in the chair, Nathan went

to the bedroom to get Alex's wheelchair.
When he returned to the living room, Justin
had materialized from somewhere. The
bodyguard heard Aunt Tessa's announce-
ment and knew that Alex would need to be
carried down the front stairs of the house.

"Ready?" Nathan said rolling the chair.

The routine was for Justin to carry Alex
down the staircase all the way to the van.
Nathan would carry the wheelchair behind
them.

332/402

Outside, a stretch limo was waiting for

the boys. Justin must have called and given
the limo company the schedule.

They buried Luigi Russo in a Roman

Catholic service. Both the wake and service
were held at a funeral home, not at a church.

"They've got a pretty church," Nathan

said to his mother, "why not use it?"

Hedda Nilsson, who flew in for the funer-

al, explained that the Roman church has all
kinds of rules and regulations and restric-
tions. Nathan had never heard such a thing
because he grew up in the Liberal Catholic
Church. How sad for Roman Catholics,
Nathan thought.

"Mama Hedda, don't volunteer to cook,"

Alex warned her covertly. "No Italian is
gonna want any hands but Italian hands in
the kitchen. No offense."

"None taken," Hedda said.

333/402

Alex's older sister never so much as said

hello to Alex. She kept her husband and chil-
dren away from him until the funeral.

Luigi's immediate family waited in a

private room — a kind of holding cell — as
friends and family arrived at the funeral
home.

"Hi, Rosalia," Alex said. "It's good to see

you."

Silence.
"Answer your brother," Rosa said.
"He's just a fag, mama," said the sister

angrily. "I'm a good Catholic. I don't have
fags as a brother, especially not at papa's fu-
neral. It ain't right, mama."

Hedda was just about to spring into ac-

tion when she was stopped cold.

"Rosalia," said Alex's mother. "You ain't

here for Luigi. You're here for me. I need a
family right now."

"Then you should have kept this homo-

sexual away," said Rosalia's husband. "Papa

334/402

Luigi wouldn'a wanted him spoin' the service
with his smell."

"You don't know jack," Rosa said.
Rosalia shrugged. Her husband crossed

his arms giving off body language that spoke
volumes about his attitude.

"Right at the end," Rosa continued,

"Luigi met Nathan and blessed your brother
and brother-in-law. He apologized to Alex.
And if you have to know, at the moment my
husband died, he was holding Nathan's hand
and staring into Alex's eyes. If you could
have been there, you'd know that he died in
peace with a tear of happiness in his eye."

The funeral director came into the private

room and told everyone that the service was
ready to begin. Alex led Mama Rosa by the
arm into the chapel. The funeral director or-
ganized the seating. He first sent Rosalia and
her family down the front aisle. Rosalia's
husband was the last one.

335/402

Next Mama Rosa was supposed to walk

in — sitting in the middle of the family — but
Alex had other ideas. Alex sent Nathan
down the aisle before the funeral director
could object.

That put Alex next to his mother, who sat

at the end of the row in a place of honor.

It also put Nathan right next to Rosalia's

homophobic husband. They would be touch-
ing sides and sharing hymnals for an hour or
so.

That seating arrangement was coincid-

ence. Alex was engineering a way to sit by
Rosa.

Sure it was: coincidence.
After the funeral, Rosa looked younger

and more full of life. It was as though a ton of
weight had been lifted. She didn't seem bit-
ter, just relieved it was over.

At the widow's house, the family gathered

again. Mama, Alex, and Rosalia were all at
the kitchen table. Things were tense at best.

336/402

Cousins and uncles and aunts and in-laws

gathered in the living room. Smokers stood
outside the front door, coming and going.

Most of the guys talked sports. Rosalia's

husband was there, but he was strangely
quiet. He was glaring at Nathan, who was
talking to one of Alex's cousins.

Inside Dino Manzi's resentments were

bubbling. He was angry that someone like
Nathan could waltz in an be considered
"family" just like him. Dino was a real mem-
ber of the family, but Rosa was treating the
homo with respect. It was un-Catholic. It was
un-Italian. It was wrong.

Where were the Manzi children? Dino

panicked. What if the fags were doing things
to his kids? That's all they are: child mo-
lesters. Obviously.

Okay, he heard one of the girls playing in

the kitchen. Kids were safe.

"Look at that homo sittin' there," Dino

said to his brother.

337/402

"Yeah, talkin' to family like he fit in.

Whole place is in the toilet."

"It isn't right,: Dino agreed. "It isn't

American."

Dino walked over to Nathan with a

swagger's gate. He nodded upwards and then
gestured to the front door.

Nathan had no idea what was going on.

He didn't understand the nod was a kind of
macho greeting, and the door gesture was an
invitation to a fight. Nathan just smiled,
which really set Dino off.

Dino was at the boiling point. He was

about to explode.

He grabbed Nathan by the arm and

jerked him off the chair.

And almost before Nathan was out of the

chair, Dino was on the floor. His arm was
broken and blood was coming from the
corner of his mouth.

Justin.

338/402

One kick had broken Dino's arm, and one

arm swing had flung him to the ground so
hard that it broke a tooth.

Justin had smelled trouble. He was

already watching the situation when Dino
was just glaring across the room. When Dino
moved toward Nathan, Justin had quietly
moved closer.

He didn't intercept Dino before there was

contact, and Justin was embarrassed by
that.

On the other hand, he knew he could

neutralize whatever trouble there was within
a second. If there had been any chance of
Dino being armed with something more
deadly than his hands, Justin would have
already taken evasive action.

Dino was on the floor screaming. Nathan

was back in the chair, shaking.

"You okay, kid?" Justin asked Nathan.
"Yeah. Thanks."
"No problem," said the bodyguard.

339/402

Rosalia rushed to her husband's side and

told Justin to get his boots off his chest.
Justin didn't move other than to ask some-
body to take Dino to the emergency room.

"He's okay," Justin said calmly,. "broken

arm and sore jaw."

"What the fuck?" said Alex, who had been

in the kitchen with Rosa and Rosalia.

"Moved on Nathan," Justin said. "Got a

little too much testosterone for his own
good."

Everyone who had seen the situation un-

fold agreed: Dino had made the first move,
and it looked like he was trying to threaten
Nathan or cause him harm.

"Get off my husband," Rosalia screamed.
"It's okay, man," Alex said. "Thanks for

acting quick. You okay?"

Justin nodded and then backed. Alex

went to check on Nathan. He was okay but
shaken. Alex stayed by Nathan's side, talking

340/402

so quietly that nobody could hear what was
being said.

In a matter of a few minutes, two police

cars were at Rosa's house. Four officers came
in with their weapons drawn. The pistols
were pointing downward, so they were not
aimed at anyone.

Disturbance complaint. Somebody had

probably called 9-1-1 with a cell phone.

Paramedics arrived and got Dino patched

up enough to be taken to the hospital. The
officers spent the next hour grilling everyone
in the house. One officer separated Justin
from everyone else.

Justin knew the drill and cooperated.

Hedda went to be beside Justin.

"Hedda," she told the officer. "I'm repres-

enting Mr. Miller."

The officer looked at Justin, who nodded.
Justin handed the officer his driver's li-

cense. Instead of a notepad, the cop typed in
Justin's information into what looked like an

341/402

oversized cell phone. It must have been a
little computer connected to the police
headquarters. In a few moments, the officer
was reading Justin's background on the
screen of the electronic gizmo.

"Texas Trooper?" the officer asked.
"Former State Trooper," said Hedda.

"Mr. Miller is now employeed by Alex Russo
as a body guard."

The officer relaxed a bit, especially when

he noticed the crowd in the living room
seemed to be supporting Justin's explanation
of the events.

Within a few minutes, he and Hedda and

Justin's personal police officer were joking
around.

Eventually the officers gathered outside

for several minutes. One with some stripes
on his arm came back in and announced
their decision.

"We have gathered all of the information

necessary for now, folks," he said. "Is here

342/402

anyone here that feels uncomfortable being
around Mr. Nilsson or Mr. Miller?"

Nobody said a thing.
"Very good," said the officer. "Mr. Miller,

don't forget to contact my office when you
are planning to leave the area."

Justin nodded.
"Mr. Nilsson, you call me if you have any

more incidents or if you change your mind
about pressing charges against… uh… Mr.
Manzi."

Nathan nodded.
"Good day everyone," said the officer as

he left.

With the house no longer under siege by

the cops, Rosalia rushed out of the house to
be with her husband.

"You okay?" Hedda asked Justin.
"Yeah, evidence was on my side. That's all

that matters. Still good to have you around to
help, Hedda."

343/402

She looked at her son: "Good to have you

around too."

Nathan looked at his mother and waved.

He was okay.

"Not your fault, man," said one relative.

Everyone agreed. The man who spoke had
the biggest eyebrows Nathan had ever seen.
They were at least an inch high and looked
like black steelwool.

Did this guy have to pay for three hair-

cuts at the barbershop? One for the head,
and one for each eyebrow?

Catty. Really really catty.
Nathan grinned at himself. Things were

getting back to normal. He was noticing
things, not just shaking from being attacked.

"Asshole was, well... you know," said

another.

"Dino was bein' Dino," said Rosa.
She relieved some of the tension.

344/402

"Listen, everyone," Rosa continued. "I

want you's all to know that I love Nathan.
He's'a my son-in-law, just like Dino. One's
just as important to me as the other."

She paused to make sure everyone was

listening.

"If'a you got issues with Alex and Nathan,

you got'a whole bucket of issues with me.
Capisca?"

Silence.
"Buon," she said. "Buon."
"Thanks, mama," said Alex with tears

welling up in his eyes.

"Triste?"
"No, mama," Alex said, hugging his

mother. "Happy. Grazie, grazie."

"Man, I am so sorry," Justin said to

Nathan.

"For what?"

345/402

"I should have been there before he put

one finger on you. That's what my job is, and
I let you down."

"You didn't let me down, Justin. I'm not

hurt, and the asshole is in the hospital.
That's success in my book."

"Hey, Nathan," said one of the teenage

boys in the Russo family. "Sorry for what
happened, dude."

"It's nothing."
"Hey, guy," said a man, uncle or

something. "We're not all jack-asses here. I
canna' even believe anybody's still homo-
phobic. It's so stooopid."

"Mama Rosa say you're family," said the

teenager, "then you're family. Can I have a
hug? I mean, I'm straight and all, but you're
family, man."

When they hugged, the teenager slapped

Nathan on the back in a kind of jock way of
showing the family he was straight and
would be breeding just as soon as he could

346/402

find a girl. It was macho tenderness with
good Italian gestures.

"Hey, Justin," said a woman. "I got some-

body giving me shit. My in-law... husband's
brother is a horse's ass. You available for
rent? Take care of him for me like you did
Dino?"

Everyone chuckled.
"Got my hands full with Alex and Nathan

right now, maam" Justin said. "But give me
your number just in case."

The Texas charm was starting to come

out now. Justin's twang was as thick as
Rosa's marinara.

"What you mean horse's ass," came a

voice from the other side of the room. It was
probably the woman's husband. "Don't be
talking about Bobby like that. What 'bout
your…."

"Hey, everybody," Alex interrupted. "On

that note, I think we ought to be moving
back to the motel before my trusty

347/402

bodyguard has to jump in and break more of
my relatives."

Justin took that as his cue to get his

game-face back on. He disappeared out the
front door to alert the limo driver.

Hedda stayed for a few days to help but

then went back to Dallas. Rosa was doing
just fine by herself. There was an extended
Russo family network in New Jersey.

Nathan and Alex had rented a motel

room to avoid the stairs at Rosa's house.
They rented a van to give them a little free-
dom from limos and taxis.

The boys tried to send Justin off on vaca-

tion for a few days, but he didn't want to go.
All Justin needed was one day a week.

Alex even offered to fly Sean into town.

Justin wasn't buying. It made Alex wonder if
Sean and Justin were anything more than
just pal-around buddies. Justin always kept
his private life private, which is the main
reason Alex liked him. Nobody really knew

348/402

much about the ex-trooper, except that the
lawyer said he passed an extensive back-
ground check.

Alex got Kevin to setup another trust

fund, this one for Rosa. He then got his law-
yer in Dallas to make some official-looking
papers so that Rosa thought the money was
from an insurance policy that Luigi had but
never mentioned.

There was a branch of the stock broker's

office in Newark, and Kevin arranged a local
contact for him during his stay in New Jer-
sey. Alex found that stock broker libraries
look about the same, but he discovered that
stock brokers aren't the same. He ended up
working through Kevin again because there
was something about the New Jersey office
that Alex didn't like. Everyone

Nathan even tried his hand at the stock

market, using some of the monthly income
from the trust his lover had started. By the

349/402

time he bailed out, Nathan had lost over
three month's trust fund income.

"Keep the day job, babe," Alex said. "Oh,

that's right, you don't have one."

"Whatever," Nathan said.
Alex and Nathan spent most days with

Rosa. They tried to make up all the time they
had lost. Rosa tried to give Alex the one thing
he hadn't known in a decade: a mother.
Some days, Alex's walls of protection were
up, and he was distant and cold. A few times,
Nathan could tell his lover was letting his
mother back into his heart. The first steps
were tiny, baby steps. It was a start.

One day, Alex, Nathan, and Justin were

at the Elizabeth Diner for lunch.

Nathan excused himself to go to the bath-

room. When he got back, Nathan saw
something that made him weak-kneed.

There, at the table, was Alex: standing by

himself.

350/402

Naturally, Nathan started crying. A wait-

ress came over to the table and gave Alex a
5-dollar bill.

"See?" Alex said, "I told you."
The waitress just walked away shaking

her head.

"You're standing?" Nathan gasped.
"It's been awhile, but I think they still call

it that."

"How'd you?" Nathan said.
"Justin, could you come help me get back

down?"

Justin appeared out of nowhere and

eased Alex back into his wheelchair.

"What was the deal with the waitress?"

Nathan asked.

"I bet her I could make you cry just by

standing at the table," Alex said.

"Bitch," Nathan said.
"Leccacazzi," said Alex.

351/402

As they were paying the bill, a commotion

in the parking lot got Justin's attention.
Someone came in and asked the woman at
the cash register to call 9-1-1. It was all
Justin needed to hear: he was outside in a
flash. Job One was to keep any trouble from
reaching Alex. Job Two was to help whoever
was in trouble outside.

In a minute, Justin reappeared. The ex-

trouper had a tear streaming down his face.

Something tragic must have...
"I'm taking you down, squirt," Justin said

to Nathan.

"It is your day off tomorrow," said Sean

as he followed Justin back into the diner.

"Was everybody 'in' on this?" Justin

asked the cashier, who nodded.

"Nathan called and said tomorrow was

your day off," the steward said. I'mmmm
your day off entertainment."

352/402

Sean punctuated his entrance with a

graceful pirouette. Could any two people be
more different than Justin and Sean."

The 'trouble' outside the diner was a

scheme to surprise Justin. It was Nathan's
idea, and it worked perfectly.

"Oh," Sean whispered to Justin, "I've got

something in my pants that's waiting for
you."

Justin jumped to the obvious conclusion,

but Sean reached into his back pocket and
pulled out two tickets to the Giants game the
next day. Justin rolled his eyes.

"I can scalp 'em off to somebody if you

aren't interested," Sean said.

"You like football?" Justin asked.
"Ubecha," Sean said.
"He likes watching men in really tight

pants," Alex offered.

"Don't listen to him," Sean said.
"I always listen to Alex," Justin said.

353/402

"What on earth for?"
"I have bills."
It was one of the few times that Alex saw

Justin relax. Justin was kidding around with
Sean, and it looked good. He needed some
"Sean-time" to balance things.

"Game's tomorrow?" Alex asked.
"Afternoon," Justin said without having

to look at the tickets. He knew the Giants
schedule and had planned on watching the
game in his motel room.

"Tell you what," Alex continued. "Help

get us back to the motel, then you two take
the rest of today and tomorrow off. That suit
your schedule, Sean?"

"Absolutely," said the steward with a low

sweeping bow. "I know a dance-bar in the
Villagee."

"He might want a uniform fetish bar,"

Nathan said, "since he used to wear one."

354/402

"I'd love to go dancing," Justin said. "Can

you lead?"

Everyone (including Sean) stopped in

their tracks and looked at Justin. The buff
ex-trouper wanted Miss Nelly to lead?

Justin patting Sean's butt like football

players do to each other sometimes, and
then held open the door for Sean, Nathan,
and Alex. Was he serious about Sean lead-
ing? It was a mystery Nathan would never
solve.

Sean and Justin took the train from New

Jersey to Penn Station in New York City, and
then they hopped on a subway for the short
ride to Washington Square in Greenwich Vil-
lage. You didn't have to guess where Sean
was headed: one glance told you he was
headed to the gay area of Manhattan. He
wasn't over-the-top flamboyant, but he wore
his "gayness" so nobody ever had any ques-
tions about it.

355/402

As the pair walked up the stairs toward

4th Street, someone recognized Sean.

"Blanch!" hollered the voice. "I hadn't

seen you since you quit the airline."

"Hey, Jerry," Sean said. "Who would'a

thought we'd meet in New York?"

"Tell me," Jerry said. "They hardly give us

any lay-over time anymore. This time I just
finagled a couple of days here."

"Jerry, meet Justin. Justin, this is an old

co-worker of mine."

"Nice to meet you."
"You too."
Sean continued the introductions: "Jerry

is a flight attendant, Denver-based…"

"Oh, baby," Jerry interrupted, "get with

the program, girl. I'm out of L-A-X now."

"Sorry," Sean continued. "Jerry is one of

those Los Angeles fairies who flit about the
country keeping everyone full of soda and
crackers."

356/402

"Not much of that now," Jerry said.

"We're rationed on soda, and they took away
the crackers. So tell me about Mr. Man here."

"Oh, sure. This is Justin, former Texas

Ranger — the law type, not the baseball type.
And before you try to get any claws into him,
he's mine for the night."

Justin blushed.
"Honey, I had no intent… anyway, I'm go-

ing to kick my heels up. No time for a one-
nighter. No offense."

"None taken."
"Saying you don't want a trick? Who are

you," Sean said, "and what have you done to
my slut-friend, Jerry?"

Jerry spun around and pranced away,

throwing one palm up in the air with a quick
whip in the wrist as a kind of "Whatever"
gesture.

"You know lots of people," Justin said.

357/402

"I'm well preserved, love," Sean said, "but

I am a high-mileage Carbon Unit. You'd be
surprised."

The night air was cool but certainly not as

cold as New York gets when it really wants to
do a Deep Freeze number. It wasn't even
cold enough to wear a coat, even though it
was October.

The street was bright enough to see

everything that needed to be seen, but it
wasn't lit like a night spot in Dallas. Justin
was used to Dallas lighting, which is closer to
the Las Vegas strip than to New York. Ever
the lawman, Justin wondered if less lighting
increased the crime rate.

An awning caught Justin's eye: a French

restaurant.

"Hungry?"
"Sure."
They looked at the menu posted outside.

Justin got a slight case of sticker-shock, com-
pared to Dallas prices.

358/402

"Man," Justin said.
"Prices? You know Dallas has more res-

taurants per capita than any other city in the
world?"

"So?" Justin said.
"So, Einstein," Sean continued, "there's

more competition where you're from than
they got here. It's hard to make a dollar run-
ning a café in Dallas, honey."

"This look okay for you?"
"Sure," Sean said as he opened the door

for Justin.

"Hey, Sean," said the greeter inside the

restaurant, which blew Justin's mind. He
checked to see if his date had a name tag or
something.

"Hi, Pierre," Sean said. "You're full

tonight."

"We got into a review in the Village Voice,

so we were 'discovered,'" Pierre said. "But we

359/402

always have a spot for you, honey. You mind
a V.I.P. table?"

"C'est bon, monsieur," Sean said. "Lead

the way."

Pierre took them through the restaurant

and into the kitchen, which confused Justin
a little. The atmosphere went from quiet
charm to vibrant clanks and shouting. The
decoration went from muted tones to stark
white and metal.

The aromas went from a cacophony of

sauces and dessert dressings to the musty or-
der of fruits that should have been thrown
away yesterday. At the back of the restaur-
ant, everything changed again when Pierre
opened an unmarked door. The room on the
other side of the door was quiet and dark. It
was lavishly appointed with furniture that
could have been made for an estate.

"Monsieur," Pierre said as he held out his

arm to direct the Sean into the room.

360/402

Sean stood still and held his arm out for

Justin.

Once inside, Pierre made two menus ap-

pear out of nowhere. "Your usual, Sean?"

"Dirty martini," Sean said.
"Et vous?" Pierre said to Justin.
"Mineral water for me, thanks."
When Pierre left the room and the door

closed behind him, the sound of the kitchen
completely disappeared. It was so noisy out
there, they must have used some kind of
sound-proofing foam on the room.

"Okay," Justin said, "what the blazes just

happened?"

"We walked into a restaurant and got a

table," Sean said. "What do you mean?"

Justin rolled his eyes.
"I've known Pierre for years," Sean said.

"It is my job to know people like Pierre. If
Alex asked for recommendations for a place
to eat in Greenwich Village, I could have

361/402

picked up the phone and gotten him into this
place. It looks like the place is way too
crowded for walk-ins right now. Good for Pi-
erre: he deserves some good luck. He's
worked very hard on this place, you know."

"And this… whatever the heck kind of

room it is……"

"V.I.P. room," Sean said. "That's what Pi-

erre was asking when we first walked in."

"Yeah, but I figured it would just be a

table where people could see and be seen."

"No, babe, that'd be nothing more than a

cheap thrill," Sean said. "Some people are so
well known in the city, that restaurants like
this make a special room for them. It is for
celebrities who just want a nice meal without
having to fend off kids and autograph
hounds. They call ahead, and Pierre lets
them in through the back door. Nobody in
the restaurant even knows they're here."

"Oh."

362/402

"And when we walked in, Pierre was

telling me that this was the only table avail-
able, and I told him that would be okay."

"Sure," Justin said. "I had no idea about

rooms like this."

"Not your job to know," Sean winked.

"You know me, and it's my job to know."

About then, a soft knock came at the

door. Without waiting for an answer, a young
man in a tuxedo came in with a tray of
drinks.

"Martini," he said to Sean. Justin

wondered how he knew Sean had the
martini.

"Haute-Savoie," the boy said to Justin as

he put down the mineral water bottle, along
with an empty glass with a single ice cube
and a twist of lime on the rim.

"Thanks."
"Are you ready to select an entrée, or

shall I come back?" the boy asked with a
thick accent.

363/402

"Un spécial du jour?" Sean asked, im-

pressing Justin that Sean could pop around
between any number of languages. Justin
was equally impressed with himself for un-
derstanding what Sean had said. He was not
so happy with his ability to understand what
the boy started rattling off and freeway
speed.

"Ooo, yummy," Sean said as he looked at

his date. Without missing a beat, Sean noted
that Justin was completely lost.

"Here's a cornish hen that looks good,"

Justin said.

"Oui, monsieur," said the French boy as

he spun around and left.

"What was that about?"
"I have no idea," Sean said.
In a second, the boy returned with a tray

of finger foods, mainly pickles.

"Oh, now," Sean said quietly. "You said

cornish hen, but he heard cornichon' which
is the word for pickle in French."

364/402

"Cornichon," the French boy said.
"Merci," Sean said holding back his

laughter. He decided it would be easier to
handle the ordering.

"Like pork?" Sean asked as he took one of

the little jerkins and stuffed it into Justin's
mouth.

"Sure," Justin mumbled through his

crunchy cornichon.

"Trust me?" Sean whispered.
"Not so much now," Justin said as Sean

turned back to the boy and started throwing
around those nasal French vowels like he
was from Paris instead of Dallas. When Sean
had finished, the boy nodded his head and
left the room. He was quick to leave but
closed the door quietly.

"What just happened?" Justin asked.
"Oh, din-din."
"I know that."

365/402

"They have pork tenderloin on special

today. It is a meal for two people, and it
sounded so good that I knew I wanted to try
to get you to go for it. It is a crust made from
a light mustard sauce, served with asparagus.
There'll be new potatoes cooked with bay
leaves and tossed with fresh dill."

"You could have just asked," Justin said.
"Oh, sorry. You looked confused, and I

didn't want to embarrass you in front of a
stranger."

"No big deal. I understand."
"Plus, I think the tenderloin will be won-

derful with your pickles," Sean said raising
his martini glass as a toast.

Almost instantly, the boy reappeared

with salad. He laid out forks and napkins
and just as smoothly asked about cracked
pepper.

It was flawless.

366/402

Just a second or two after Justin and

Sean finished the salad, the boy popped in
again and removed the plates and silverware.

"They got a camera in here?" Justin

asked.

"Don't ask," Sean said. "I don't want to

know."

The boy returned shortly with dinner

plates and fresh silverware. He offered fresh
napkins, but Justin said his was fine. Behind
him was a man with a tray. The waiter took
a copper skillet from the tray. Using two
large serving spoons as tongs, chop-stick
style, the boy served the asparagus. Each
piece landed on the dinner plate in exactly
the right spot: Justin was becoming im-
pressed again.

In a smooth spin, the waiter put that skil-

let and spoon set on the tray and had anoth-
er one. This time, he was serving the… no,
he put the potatoes into a large bowl and
sprinkled them with chopped dill. After

367/402

turning them over a few times, he spooned a
few into each dinner plate.

Finally came the tenderloin. In moves

that reminded Justin of a cook at a Japanese
hibachi grill, the French boy got the long
pork tenderloin onto a platter and had it
sliced paper thin. The waiter spooned sauce
onto the dinner plates and placed a few pork
slices on top of the sauce.

He left the remaining tenderloin on a

serving platter and ringed it with the leftover
potatoes. The remaining sauce drenched the
top of the pork on the platter.

"Bon appétit," said the boy as both he and

the helper disappeared back into the kitchen.

"Bon appétit, Justin," Sean said.
"Yeah, what he said," Justin laughed.
"Hey, you picked the place," Sean said. "I

just went along."

"And why do I suspect you would have

known everybody, regardless of the place I
picked?"

368/402

"Slept with half of them."
"Okay, that's all I need to hear about

that."

Sean winked.
After dinner, Pierre came in pushing a

cart. It carried a burner and was surrounded
with several bottles.

"Voici crepes pour le…," Pierre said.
"Crepes?" Sean said.
"Mais oui. Suzette?"

"Fameux," Sean said. "Merci."

"Bon," Pierre said as he started throwing

ingredients into the skillet. First came a kind
of powdered orange peel but made of fresh
oranges, then sugar. In a moment, Pierre
poured something from a bottle and fwoosh:
it must have been brandy or cognac, consid-
ering the flames. As the flames died down,
Pierre used a pair for forks — chop-stick
style — to fold several round crepes into
squares. As soon as he had folded crepes into

369/402

two plates, Pierre used a large spoon to dress
each plate with still-sizzling sauce. As a final
touch, he tapped a bit of powdered sugar on
top and dressed the plate with a thin slice of
orange.

"Voila," he said as he pushed the cart out

of the room.

Sean just shrugged: "I didn't order them."
The crepes were as flawless as everything

else. It was about a 7 or 8 star restaurant, if
you asked Justin. He wasn't used to this kind
of place.

"Beats What-a-Burger all to hell," the ex-

trooper said.

Sean rolled his eyes.
Pierre refused to talk about money. The

whole thing was his treat, despite Sean's
protests. Sean said he was okay with throw-
ing in dessert, but he wanted to pay for
everything else. They went off into French…
or what Justin guessed was French. It could
have been Japanese for all he knew. There

370/402

was a lot of flailing arms. Justin thought it
was just the Italians that used gestures as
punctuation, but he was having to revise that
to include the French. Maybe it was com-
mon throughout Europe.

Sean and Pierre apparently reached an

agreement: Pierre said "Monsieur," to Justin
as he backed out of the room.

"What's the damage?" Justin asked.
"Nothing," Sean said. "He won't take a

penny. He says I've sent him a ton of busi-
ness over the years, and this is his way of
thanking me."

"Of all the places in New York for me to

pick," Justin mused.

Back out on the street, Justin's phone

started buzzing. It wasn't a call. It was a text
message. Justin read it aloud: "Why do
ducks have flat feet?"

"That's it?" Sean asked.
"Nathan," they both said in unison.

371/402

Just then Sean's cell phone started buzz-

ing. They looked at each other as Sean
reached in his pocket. He pushed some but-
tons to get into the text message section of
his phone.

"It says 'to stamp out forest fires."
Almost immediately, Justin's phone was

buzzing again.

"Why do elephants have flat feet," Justin

read off the glowing screen on his phone.

"Ducks, elephants," Sean said.
A passerby heard just that fragment and

said as he passed them on the sidewalk: "It is
a jungle out there. Lions... tigers...."

"And let me guess," Sean said. "We will

see the answer on your…."

Sean still had his phone out when it star-

ted buzzing. The phone said, "to stamp out
flaming ducks."

"We are going to need to adjust Nathan's

medications," Justin said.

372/402

Buzzzzzz, went Justin's phone.
"Why do giraffes have long necks?" said

the phone.

The boys were laughing hard now. Five…

four… three… two….

Sean held up his phone for Justin to

read. "For spitting on flaming elephants."

Justin shook his head. They both stared

at his phone for a few minutes waiting on the
next joke to come in. It didn't. It was quiet.

Full from the long French meal, they de-

cided to go back to Sean's hotel and go dan-
cing another time.

Buzzzzzz, said Sean's phone.
"Oh, now he's sending the question to my

phone," Sean said.

"Use a condom," Sean read. They looked

at each other: "How'd he know we were just
about…. no, never mind. I don't want to
know."

373/402

Buzzzzzz, went Justin's phone. "Oh,

okay, sermon is over and we are back to ele-
phants. It says, 'why do elephants walk on
four feet?"

"It boggles the mind," Sean said. "You ac-

tually work for and get paid by these
people?"

Just then Sean's phone started buzzing.
"Stereo elephant jokes," Justin noted.
"This is why they walk on four feet,

right?"

"Right."
"Survey says," Sean said as he held out

his phone for Justin to read.

"Because…" Justin said. "No, I can't go

on."

"Read it, love," Sean insisted. "They're

your employers, not mine."

"Because if they flew, you couldn't keep

your car clean."

374/402

"Tell me again why you work for them,"

Sean added.

"Hold on," Justin said. "There's more.

How do you scroll this thing?"

Sean took his phone and pressed some

buttons. He read the rest of the message
himself: "Have fun and play safe."

"Oh, that is sooooooo sweet," Justin said.
"I love that guy," Sean said. "But could

you tell him that if he ever sends stereo ele-
phant jokes, I shall fling myself off a
building."

"No," Justin said. "That'd be a 'dare' to

Nathan."

"Oh, whatever."
"Wait," Justin said as he stopped ab-

ruptly. "It isn't Nathan. 214... 559... Oh, my
god. We've been had by Nathan's mother."

"Hedda?" Sean shrieked. "She's the one

spreading around elephant shit and telling
us to use condoms?"

375/402

"Apparently."
"How'd she? No, I don't want to know."
"Hedda," Justin continued, ignoring

Sean's request, "is dangerously unbalanced."

"No way," Sean said. "I think she's merely

on an elliptical orbit."

Justin didn't understand.
"Some days, she flies closer to earth than

other days."

They were at Sean's room. Small. It was

not laid out to hold a queen-sized bed. You
actually had to step over a corner of the bed
to get into the bathroom.

"Clank, fzzzzish," said the radiator as they

walked into the room.

"Oops," Sean said. "It's way too hot in

here. Sorry."

"No big deal."

"Would you like to sit up on the sofa and

watch some television?" Sean said pointing
to the left side of the bed.

376/402

Justin pointed to the other half of the

bed. "Let's just lounge on the bed and tell
each other romantic stories… since you're
either lying about having a sofa, or you found
a picture of one in a magazine. No sofa'd ever
fit in here."

"The bed it is then," Sean said. "Hey,

when you're renting a room in this town, it is
really hard to find one that's reasonable."

"Not

complaint,

dear.

Just

observation."

They both crawled onto the bed and

looked into each other's eyes. The hotel room
got quiet. The banter was gone. It was time
for the pair to get serious.

Justin reached out first and stroked

Sean's cheek. Sean closed his eyes. Justin
was more tender than Sean would have
guessed. He was expecting the bodyguard to
be physical, which would have been just fine
with Sean. The gentle touch told Sean that

377/402

Justin was more complicated than he first
thought.

Sean put his hand behind Justin's neck

and used it to pull himself up. In a flash,
Sean was on top and smoothly unbuttoning
Justin's shirt. As soon as Justin's shirt was
off, Sean took off his own shirt. Touching
skin. The warmth. They kissed. Sean
leaned to one side of Justin's head and
whispered, "Know why a banana and an ele-
phant are just alike?"

"I'm going to put you in the hospital,

Sean."

"They're both yellow," Sean said. "…'cept

for the elephant, of course."

Woah: rush of action. Rollercoaster. Ah,

okay. Justin can get physical. Before Sean
could say another word, he found himself
underneath Justin with the bodyguard's
hands holding his wrists to the mattress.

They made love. It was playfully rough

but tender at the same time.

378/402

In their motel room in New Jersey, Nath-

an became Alex's rehabilitation leader. At
first, it was a matter of standing up without
support. After a few days, Alex was able to
take a step, holding onto Nathan's shoulders.

"Fuckin' drill sergeant," Alex mumbled.
"Babe, you're going great," Nathan said

after a few wobbles.

"You know what this means, don't you?"

Alex said.

"Even wilder sex than we've already

had?"

"That too," Alex said. "I was actually

thinking that I'm really pooped." They
agreed that the past year had moved extra
fast. Nathan suggested they just stay camped
out at the motel for awhile. Alex suggested a
month in Hawaii. They agreed that Hawaii
sounded nice, but then Alex decided to crank
that idea up a notch.

379/402

"Let's get a yacht and go around the

world."

"In a month?"
"How's about a year?" Alex asked.

"Maybe two? A few months in Italy would be
nice."

"Sweden too?" Nathan said.
"Not until summer, I couldn't stand it

there this time of year."

"I'm married to a wimp," Nathan

laughed.

"Hey, I think some places up there will let

us get married for real," Alex noted.

"Scandinavia is always more progressive

than…"

"Cut the crap," Alex said on the sofa in

their motel suite.

Nathan slid to one knee in front of his

lover and said, "Alessandro, will you marry
me?"

Silence.

380/402

Nathan noticed a tear in Alex's eye: "Hey,

crying's my gig."

"Oh, babe," Alex said, "I guess I need a

few days to think about this."

Nathan's heart missed a beat or two.
"Of course I will," said Alex as he reached

out to Nathan. "Of course I will."

"Kevin?" Alex said on the phone. "No,

everything's fine here… stock market librar-
ies must all look the same. No orders this
call… here's the deal… we're gonna take a
vacation…."

Alex paused awhile.
"Kevin? Breathe slowly. It'll all be okay.

Breathe, Kevin. Okay, the reason I'm call-
ing… two things, really… first, I am going to
cut back a little on research… maybe a year
or so… no, you're fine, but could you just
move everything into cash for me? I plan to
be out of touch more than… yeah, good… is
this gonna crimp your income? Okay, good."

381/402

Alex stopped to think.
"The other thing is that I don't know how

to do something, and it's outside of what my
concierge service is used to doing. How do I
go buy a yacht and crew… okay… uh-huh…
about a year… two at the outside......"

A cruise for the two of them — plus

Justin, of course — was Nathan's idea. They
would leave New York City and head out to-
ward Europe somewhere, with no particular
schedule.

When they mentioned it to Justin a few

days later, he asked if Alex could 'bring Sean
onboard for decorative purposes.'

"Okay," Nathan thought to himself, "that

answers a few questions."

Kevin had come back to the phone.

"Sure," Alex said. "Let me get a pencil…
shoot… 4037… got it… Kevin, you're not go-
ing to start crying on me… okay… bye."

"Man," Alex said, "that man is high main-

tenance some days."

382/402

"Justin?" Alex hollered.
Justin came running.
"What kind of dollars do you think Sean

would take for a year or two of his life? To be
a humble servant to Nathan and me, and to
be the loyal lover to our Man Friday."

"Well, since you put it like that, sir,"

Justin said. "I don't have a clue. Would you
like for me to make a discreet query along
those lines?"

"God, I love it when you talk like that,"

Nathan said.

"So does Sean," Justin said with a wink.
As the steward of a company that rents

and leases jets to fly all over the world, Sean
had a unique ability to move in foreign coun-
tries. He could speak French, German, and
Spanish. And he could cook like he came out
of a five-star hotel.

383/402

Alex liked watching Justin and Sean to-

gether. It was like a rottweiler standing next
to a poodle.

"Anything else now?" Justin asked.
"Yeah, but I don't know how to go about

it," Alex said. "I have a name and number of
a company over on the Upper East Side that
brokers yachts. I guess we need to go see
them. Can you set something up?"

"Absolutely," Justin said as he took Alex's

notes from the phone call.

That evening Justin said that Sean could

join them in two weeks. He had to give notice
to the jet-leasing company.

"Hey," Justin added, "he knows some-

body at that yacht brokers office. Sean says
most everybody working there is gay."

"Sean's gonna fit in nicely here," Alex

said.

"Oh, you have no idea," Justin added.

384/402

It was a dank and rainy day in March,

when the phone in the boys' motel suite rang
earlier than usual.

"Hello?" said Nathan. "We'll be right

there."

He got Alex up and dressed and called

Justin. There was some crisis at the Russo
house.

At the house, Justin and Nathan helped

Alex walk up the stairs. The truth is that they
were carrying him, but Alex insisted on try-
ing to use his feet as much as possible.

Sean, looking fastidious as ever, stood at

the curb holding the wheelchair near the
van. As soon as Alex was safely upstairs,
Sean would glide gracefully up the stairs with

the wheelchair. The foursome had found a
kind of comfortable rhythm in getting Alex
moved from place to place.

Hedda Nilsson was inside in the Russo

kitchen. She and Rosa looked scared or wor-
ried as Alex and Nathan came into the break-
fast area.

"What's wrong, mama?" Alex said.
"Hi, mom. What brought you to town?"

Nathan asked his mother.

"Something's come up," Hedda said, "and

I flew out last night. Rosa and I have been up
talking most of the night about this."

"Sit," Rosa told Nathan. Alex was already

seated in his wheelchair. There was room at
the dining table for him to come close.

"Coffee?" Rosa asked.
"Mama, you said there's a crisis," Alex

said grimly. "No coffee now. You have us
scared half to death."

386/402

"Okay," Hedda said. "Alex, do you re-

member your mother saying she was more
like you than anything else?"

"Uh-huh," Alex said, not knowing what to

make of the conversation, not knowing
where this was leading.

"This is hard to say," Rosa said.
"What, mama," Alex said.
"I'm gay," Rosa said.
Alex's heart was pounding. His mouth

was open, but he had nothing to say. All
these years, Rosa kept her secret from her
husband and from her family.

How could Alex not have picked up on

this. How could he let his mother go through
this by herself.

"She asked me to come here to talk about

it," Hedda said. "I guess it is something of a
surprise to you."

"Surprise?" Alex said. "I'm a… it… I

mean…"

387/402

"She'll be fine," Hedda said.
"I know," Rosa said holding her son's

hand, "that you and Nata (her pet word for
him) are going away for a year."

"Mama…"
"Alessandro, I want to say this all…."
At that point, Rosa began speaking to

Alex in Italian. She looked happy. Alex
looked like he was still in shock.

Hedda let the conversation drop into si-

lence for two or three minutes. Then she let
the real bombshell drop….

388/402

"When are you leaving?" Hedda said.
"The fourth," Nathan said.
"Then, Alex, you need to know something

about me, especially since you're leaving just
a few days from now."

Nathan looked at the date on his wrist-

watch and grimaced.

"Oh, you did not," he said to Hedda.
"What?" said Alex. "What did she…"
Rosa and Hedda both stood up beside

Alex. They leaned down. Hedda spoke into
Alex's left ear, and Rosa spoke into his right
ear.

"Aprilllll Foooools."

"You're not…" Alex said as he realized his

mother had taken him down in the biggest
'gotcha' of his life.

Everybody was laughing. Even Justin and

Sean joined the fray.

"And you guys were in on this?" Alex said

to Justin. "Somebody's getting fired, man."

Alex looked at his mother: "Somebody's

gonna… morte a… o, cuore…."

He finally got his heartbeat back down

where it should be.

"April Fools," he said to his mother.

"What's a nice Italian girl like you know
'bout April Fools?"

"Alessandro?" Rosa said.
He ignored her.
"O, Alessandro," she said again.
Alex looked into his mother's eyes.
"Gotcha," she said.

390/402

On the way out of New York harbor, the

phone in the yacht rang. It was Rosa Russo.
She said something had come up in Brindisi,
Italy, with one of Alex's cousins.

"I'm not even listen' to you," Alex said.
Rosa assured him that it was no April

Fool's joke this time. Alex's cousin was gay,
and some family member had put him into
the hospital because of it.

"Brindisi," said Alex, hanging up the

phone.

"I feel a project coming on," Nathan said.
"We got a queer cousin to go save," Alex

said. "That okay for you?"

"Works for me," Nathan said. "We're a

pretty good team."

"But if I ever find out you were in cahoots

with mama about April Fools," Alex warned,
"you're walkin' the goddam plank."

"Brindisi," Nathan said into a phone that

also worked as an intercom to the bridge. He
was changing the yacht's destination.

The young men were working as a couple

now. They weren't complete opposites of
each other, but it was just by degrees.

Instead of being opposites, you could say

that Nathan's key perfectly fit Alex's lock.
Where there was a ridge in Nathan's person-
ality, Alex had a valley in his. When the boys
were together all the cylinders fit together
perfectly. It was like they were made for each
other and for nobody else.

Outside on the deck of the yacht, Justin

and Sean were enjoying the sites of New
York City passing by as they moved slowly
out to sea.

392/402

The New York Yankees were playing the

Texas Rangers. It was now baseball season,
and today was the Ranger's home opener.

Justin's cell phone got a text message:

"watermelon rind. watermelon rind. look at
the scoreboard and see who's behind."

"Hedda," Justin said to Sean. "She must

be watching the game on TV and the Rangers
musta scored."

The yacht floated past the Empire State

Building, the place where the World Trade
Centers used to be. Sean pointed out large
brick buildings on the riverbank where they
pumped air into the tunnels buried deeply
under the river.

Then there came the Statue of Liberty.

Inside, Alex and Nathan held hands while
standing at a window looking at the proud
lady passing by.

Alex insisted on standing to watch the

statue. The boys knew it would be a long
time before they saw that lady again. They

393/402

were full of expectation and hope and a little
apprehensive over being called into a family
squabble halfway around the world.

As Nathan helped Alex to stand, he saw

something deeply disturbing about to hap-
pen on the deck, near the front of the yacht.

Justin and Sean stood on the bow, feeling

the cool spring mist from the river as they
watched the city slipping away.

Alex was happy having them onboard.

Justin was smart and strong. Sean seemed to
know everyone on the entire planet. With
them along, nothing could possibly go
wrong.

Justin held onto Sean's belt, as Sean

spread his arms at the front of the yacht.

Nathan saw what was coming and ran to

the door: "Justin, stop him or I'm going for a
gun."

Justin ignored the desperate warning

from Nathan, and Sean screamed as loudly
as he could:

394/402

"I'm the Queen of the World...."

395/402

The author and his muse (Scooby)

About the Author

Wynn Wagner is a prolific writer. As of

this writing, he has more than twenty books
in print. He wrote some and edited the
others.

One of his novels — Brent: the Heart

Reader — is listed on the Gay Book Hall of
Fame, www.GayBookHallOfFame.com. The
publisher's web page for Brent is at
www.WynnWagnerBooks.com/brent

For a decade after college, Wynn Wagner

was a radio disc jockey and newscaster in
Texas and New York. "I was fired," he likes
to say, "from some of the best stations in
Dallas."

Later he was a computer programmer by

trade. In the 1980s, he wrote a computer

"bulletin-board system" (BBS) called Opus.
Long before there was an internet, Opus pi-
oneered the technology needed to link com-
puters around the world to share files, e-
mails, and conversations.

Every penny earned by Opus was donated

to HIV research and care. It was one of the
most widely used communications systems
of the 1980s, so it generated a ton of money
when few were supporting AIDS and HIV
organizations.

Wynn wrote "Day One." It is an article

for those who have just been told they have
HIV. "Day One" has been translated into a
dozen languages and is the most read article
about HIV ever published. You can read the
piece at www.AEGiS.org

In 2012, AEGiS gave him their Health,

Human Rights and Humanitarian Award to
mark a lifetime of achievement and philan-
thropy, especially for HIV and AIDS causes.

Dr. Wagner holds an MLA and a ThD.

398/402

He is the Coadjutor Emeritus of the

North American Old Catholic Church. Before
retiring from that group, he was the region-
ary archbishop of that denomination's
Southern Province. Dr. Wagner is also the
past president of the Worldwide Council of
Old Catholic Churches.

He and his husband live in Dallas.

www.MysticWaysBooks.com

(non-fiction,

spiritual)

www.WynnWagnerBooks.com

(fiction)

www.HeckIfIKnow.com
www.WynnPlaceOfShow.com

(blog)

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