A TRIAL OF STRENGTH - PART 79 By Rob Williams
IN THIS CHAPTER
Mark and Zack in Vegas with their boys ... four men, one bed. Zack grins at Mark, "Oh, man, just look at those sweet asses. OK, stud, let's give it to them." Back at the house, Bob comes home to Randy with a confession, and all hell breaks loose. Randy's anger explodes and he brutalizes three men. His relationship with Bob is in ruins. "He's left me, Pablo. And this time it's different. This time he has Zack."
As always, guys, I welcome your comments and suggestions. They can be very helpful in planning future chapters. E-mail me at rw6789@aol.com.
ALSO, NOW YOU CAN VISIT MY WEB-SITE: You can read the whole story, all the many chapters, with extras, on my web-site www.atrialofstrength.com. Read all the chapters on the Our Story' tab. Then click on the Support' tab, go to the `Contact Us' page and send me your comments and story ideas. Enjoy!
A TRIAL OF STRENGTH - PART 79
Darius and Jamie gazed down excitedly from the plane window as they flew over the Sierras. An hour later they were staring wide-eyed out of the taxi at the dazzling extravaganza that was Las Vegas. Of course they were blown away seeing Vegas for the first time, but especially thrilled that they had been summoned there by their masters.
Zack and Mark had been having a wild time as two jocks on the town in Vegas ... culminating in extraordinary sex with each other ... but after all that they finally realized how much they missed their boys and called them to get on the first plane. So here they were, and when they reached the MGM Grand their excitement reached a climax as they rang the bell at Room 814.
"Come in," a deep voice shouted. "Door's open."
Timidly they entered the room and closed the door behind them. They gazed in awe at the sight of two muscle-gods, one black as ebony, the other a golden blonde, lying on their back on the bed, wearing only undershorts. The boys expected an effusive greeting but that's not at all what they got.
"Stand there," commanded Zack, pointing to the foot of the bed. The two boys nervously took their place, their hands lightly clasped behind their backs.
"So what do you say, buddy," Mark asked Zack. "Think they'll do?"
"Hmm, dunno," Zack said. "The black one looks like he has attitude. Have to knock that out of him."
"The blonde looks nervous, though," Mark added. "Still, I like that in a boy. He can be worked on. OK, boys, turn around."
They turned their backs to the bed and heard Zack say. "Oh yeah, great asses. Provided we can do what we like with them."
Mark laughed. "Guess we'll just have to find that out."
Jamie was confused and nervous. He had no idea what was going on. It was as if Mark and Zack had never met them before. But when he stole a glance at Darius, his friend smiled and winked at him ... he had lived this fantasy before. And that made Jamie relax. If Darius was OK with this so was he. In fact, his cock was starting to grow stiff in his pants.
"OK, boys," Mark said. "You'll do. You look like a pair of hot young studs, so we're gonna put you to work. Turn around ... and get naked."
They obeyed instantly and stripped off their jeans and T-shirts. Their hearts were pounding as they awaited orders from these stunning men. But they had to wait a bit longer as the two bodybuilders bargained with each other.
"So," Zack said. "Which one do you want, big guy?"
Mark rubbed his chin in thought. "Hard to say ... Hey, remember when we met those girls you took the blonde? How about this time I get the blonde?" He flashed a fleeting smile at Jamie, and now the boy relaxed. In that brief smile he had glimpsed the love and affection Mark had for him and he knew that everything would be OK ... more than OK. His cock was now standing out rigid from his blonde pubic hair.
"You want the blonde?" Zack said. "Fine by me, buddy. I was hoping to get the black boy. Like I said, he needs that attitude knocked out of him, and I'm just the guy to do it. OK, boys, come round the side of the bed facing each other." They obeyed and stood at attention. Zack grinned, "Say, will you look at those two young cocks ... they're hard as iron."
"The black kid's must be all of ten inches," Mark grinned.
"Yeah," Zack growled. "And that's where his arrogance comes from ... conceited young buck. But that's not want I'm interested in right now. Turn round again, you two. Oh, man, that black ass is so fucking sweet. Guess I'm gonna have to fuck that attitude right out of him."
"But look at the buns on the blonde," Mark said. "Wonder if he's ever felt a cop's big dick inside him?"
"More to the point, wonder if they give good head. Turn round, guys. You ever sucked dick before?" Zack asked.
"Yes, sir," Darius said. "But yours is the biggest I've ever seen."
"So, you gag a bit ... occupational hazard. OK, let's find out. On your knees ... hands behind your backs."
The boys were now tense with excitement and instantly fell to their knees. They looked quickly at each other, then lowered their eyes and focused on the huge cocks lying on the men's stomachs.
"That's it, boys, take a good look," Mark said. "Now ... make them hard"
Keeping their hands behind their backs Darius and Jamie fell forward, licked the swelling cocks and then sucked them into their mouths. In a few seconds they were rock hard and the young heads were moving up and down, their lips tight around the thick rods. They felt the cocks slide deep inside them, the heads slamming against the back of their throats. Their eyes were watering and they breathed desperately through their noses.
"That all you got, boy?" Zack growled. "Shit, if I wanted a girl to suck my cock I've have gone and got one. This time I need a man." Zack put his hand behind Darius's head and pulled his face forward hard. He heard the boy choke as his cock filled his mouth and smashed against his throat. "That's more like it, boy. That's how you suck a real man's dick."
Mark was more gentle. He placed his hands on the sides of Jamie's face and pulled it back off his cock, just long enough to smile at him. "You're doing great, kid. I just might keep you around for a while." Jamie smiled and pushed his face downward, savoring the taste of his master's cock.
Zack turned his head to Mark. "You wanna cum like this, buddy?"
"Nah," Mark said, "I gotta get me a piece of that sweet ass."
"Gotcha," Zack grinned. "OK, guys, stand up."
Reluctantly the boys slid their mouths off the cocks and stood upright by the sides of the bed facing each other. Zack and Mark jumped up and pushed the boys into a kneeling position on the bed. They made them stretch their arms forward and grasp each other's shoulders to brace themselves. Their faces were only a foot apart. Mark stood behind Jamie and looked down at his ass.
"Jesus, that's perfect. You want a cop's dick in that beautiful ass, boy?"
"Yes please, sir," Jamie said hoarsely.
The men synchronized their movements. They moved forward, pressed the head of their dick against the waiting hole, and gently slid their rod between the perfect globes. There were four sighs of pleasure as eyes met eyes. Darius and Jamie looked at each other in wonder. They not only felt the exquisite sensation of their master's rod penetrating them, but knew that the other boy was feeling exactly the same. As each boy felt the cock pounding in his ass he watched the look of ecstasy on his friend's face. It was like watching himself get fucked in the mirror.
Mark was grinning at Zack over their shoulders. "Oh, man, I hope you're feeling what I'm feeling. OK, stud, let's give it to them."
The rhythm increased as the two cocks pushed harder and deeper into the burning holes. Darius and Jamie were in a trance as they watched the look of pure pleasure in the other boy's eyes. Instinctively, their faces came together and they pressed their mouths against each other. As their masters hammered their asses they hungrily probed each other's mouths with their tongues. Mark and Zack were turned on even more watching their boys kiss each other while they got fucked.
But finally the men pulled the boys back up straight, still kneeling facing each other. "Beat your meat," growled Zack. "We wanna see you shout your load."
The movement of the four men became a blur as they approached their climax. Pounding their cocks the boys did their best to hold back until their masters gave them permission to cum. Finally Mark and Zack shouted in unison, "Now!" Howls of joy accompanied four simultaneous orgasms, two of them deep inside the boys' asses.
Even more spectacular were the boys' eruptions as a long stream of white juice blasted from their cocks high in the air, and splashed into the other boy's face. They opened their mouths and drank their buddy's warm cum, then let it pour onto their faces and down their heaving bodies.
When Mark and Zack had emptied their loads inside their boys they pulled back and gazed awestruck at them. Each boy was mesmerized by the sight of his friend, his body heaving, streams of semen running down his sweating face and chest. At the same time they both felt the warm dampness of their master's juice in their ass.
"Wow," breathed Zack. "That sure was worth the price of admission."
With wild laughter the men fell on the bed and wrapped their arms round their boys. Mark smiled into Jamie's eyes. "God, I missed you, kid. Zack and me, we had a great time doing the town, but it was nothing like this." He turned to Zack. "What d'you say, big guy?"
"Right on, buddy. Hell, this was the best. Outstanding. Don't know now why we even bothered to leave town. Could have just stayed home and fucked these guys savage. Eh, boys?"
Darius grinned at Zack. "Well, sir, like the movie says ... `There's no place like home!'"
They hit the shower and Mark said it was time to show the boys around. "You guys bring anything decent to wear?"
"Polo shirts and jeans, sir. That do?"
"Perfect. Hell, kid, you'd turn heads whatever you were wearing."
And so they hit town, though this time it wasn't with a bunch of Vegas-savvy regulars. It was with two awestruck newcomers, whose eyes got wider the more sights they saw. They went to several of the more spectacular hotels, played the slots for a while, then back to the MGM Grand for dinner and the Cirque Du Soleil show there. Zack and Mark exchanged satisfied looks as their boys gazed awestruck at the dazzling spectacle.
When they got back up to the room it was late and they were all a bit drunk. They sank into chairs for a final drink ... but somehow they weren't quite ready for bed. Mark smiled at Zack. "That was some show down there. You ever see anything like that before?"
"Hell no," Zack said. "That was pretty spectacular. The bodies on those circus guys ... doing everything but fuck each other." He stroked his jaw. "Now there's a thought. Come to think of it, all you need for a show like that is a couple of hot looking young studs and a flat surface."
They all picked up on Zack's meaning and the two boys stood up. Darius grinned, "By any chance, would the two hot studs be Jamie and me, sir, and the flat surface be that bed there? Would you like us to put on a show of our own for you, sir?"
No more needed to be said. Zack and Mark sprawled in deep armchairs as the two boys stood before them and did a slow striptease. Then they stood on the bed and flexed their naked bodies in a display for their masters, to boisterous applause and whistles of appreciation.
"OK," Mark said. "Let the games begin!"
And so the two boys made love to each other, in an exhibitionist display of youthful sex and beauty. First Jamie fucked Darius's willing ass, then they switched ... back and forth. The wild performance was greeted with drunken shouts of approval from Zack and Mark, fascinated by the gyrations of the lithe young bodies as they grappled with each other.
The masters called the shots ... and told them when to shoot. The boys ended up lying on their backs stroking their dicks as they gazed up at the two muscle-gods towering over them. They could no longer hold back. In a final act of homage to their masters they held their breath, paused, and shot a huge stream of white juice over their own gleaming young bodies.
The men gazed down at them and Zack shook his head in admiration. "Outstanding, guys. Hell, you should join the circus with an act like that," he laughed. "The show downstairs could use two talented guys like you."
"You look so fucking beautiful with that cum all over you," Mark said, then grinned at Zack. "What say we add to it, big guy?"
They had been stroking the bulge in their jeans throughout the show and now pulled their cocks out. They were hot as a pistol and it took only a few strokes before they both blasted more cum over the youthful bodies. Exhausted at last, they quickly stripped and fell on the bed with their boys. And there they slept, four beautiful men in a tangle of limbs, damp with sweat and the juice from their final climax of the night.
If Vegas was, for the four men, a playground of sexual extremes and dazzling sights, the house in Los Angeles was, by contrast, a scene of domestic calm. Alone together for the weekend Randy and Pablo had become closer than ever before. After the intense intimacy of Pablo taking his master's fist in his ass, they had spent much of the time making gentle love (`vanilla' Darius would have called it) exploring each other's bodies, talking, dozing together. Randy's display of tender affection for the boy was the reverse of his usual image of a brawling, rugged alpha male, quick to anger, always the boss.
But as their final day wore on they eventually had to rouse themselves from their domestic bliss. Bob was due back at Burbank airport soon, and some time after that the four guys from Vegas would be arriving home in Mark's truck. Randy drove out to Burbank alone, leaving Pablo to start pulling dinner together.
There was always a shiver of anticipation whenever Randy waited for his lover to appear in the airport concourse. Finally he saw him and even now, after so many greetings, his cock started to swell when he saw Bob striding toward him, dressed in his smart business suit. They hugged and Randy murmured in his ear, "Missed you, buddy. Great to have you back."
"Yeah," Bob said. "Me too."
There was an odd inflection in Bob's voice, a coolness, that sounded a momentary alarm in Randy, but he dismissed it in the joy of being reunited with the man he loved, his soul-mate. In the truck Randy talked animatedly about his weekend with Pablo, but Bob was unusually silent. Then suddenly, as Randy talked, Bob turned to him and interrupted.
"Randy, there's something I gotta tell you. You know I tell you everything ... no secrets ... and I have to tell you this."
A shiver ran through Randy's body. "OK, man. Just say it."
Bob took a deep breath. "You'll never guess who I met in San Francisco. He was attending a conference ... and staying at the same hotel as me. Remember Steve?"
Now alarms bells were ringing loud in Randy's head. Steve, his former therapist, the guy who looked so much like Randy, stunningly handsome, but more refined than the rugged construction worker. He knew that Bob admired him, liked him a lot. Randy was wary of their friendship and for that reason had at first been reluctant to admit Steve to their group.
He remained silent as Bob continued hesitantly. "Well, we, er ... we had a few drinks in the bar ... he came up to my room and we talked for a long time. Hell, man, he looks so much like you and I was missing you a whole lot..." His voice faded.
"And?" Randy said coldly. And then the truth poured out in a rush.
"He stayed the night in my room ... in my bed. We were both drunk and ... I let him fuck me. I was wanting you so much and he was the image of you, so I..."
"How many times? How many times did he fuck you?"
"Er ... twice. Once when we got into bed and again in the morning." There was a heavy silence in the truck and Bob saw Randy's hands grip the steering wheel tight. He knew that to say more would only make it worse.
In a daze Randy was trying to imagine that night, how Bob and Steve must have talked, how they shared so much, how they made love. After all, Steve was a beautiful man, like Randy, but unlike him Steve was refined, sophisticated, well-educated ... everything Randy was not and, more important, everything Bob was. A shadow of fear passed over Randy ... followed by an ice-cold, all-consuming anger.
Nothing more was said. When they got to the house Pablo was in the garden putting food on the table. He smiled, "Hey, welcome back to..." But Randy cut him off. "Get upstairs, boy and don't come down until I call you. This does not concern you." Pablo was startled. He had never heard that steely tone before and he raced inside the house.
Randy pushed Bob by the neck into the house and down the basement stairs. When they faced each other Bob was shocked at the rage he saw in Randy's wild, blazing eyes. It was the pure essence of fury. Instinctively, in an act of submission, Bob shook off his jacket, kicked off his shoes and dropped his pants. Randy pulled off his own T-shirt and stood stripped to the waist, his muscular body heaving with rage. Then, like a panther, he sprang at Bob, grabbing his shirt, ripping it to shreds. He tore his shorts clear off him and threw him violently on the bed.
In minutes Bob was spread-eagled face down on the bed, naked except for the shredded remains of his shirt, his wrists and ankles tied at the four corners. Paralyzed with fear he submitted to his punishment helplessly. He had anticipated Randy's anger, but nothing like this. He buried his face in the pillow, gritted his teeth and flexed his ass hard, but he could not drown out Randy's harsh, guttural voice.
"You fucking bastard! You let that son-of-a-bitch fuck you! Your ass ... my ass!" He looked down at the perfect white globes that he thought belonged to him. "Look at that ass. It was mine and you gave it to him! OK, mother fucker, I'll make sure he never wants it again."
Randy tore his belt from the his jeans and swung it with all his strength, smashing it across the helpless ass. As it bounced under the brutal lash Bob howled in pain and pulled frantically at his restraints in a futile attempt at freedom. Randy grabbed the torn remains of Bob's shorts and tied them round his mouth to stifle the screams. Then he put all his strength into the brutal lashing of his lover's ass, blow after savage blow, until the white flesh was a flaming crimson.
Randy's body heaved as he looked down at the suffering man. All reason, all restraint had deserted him. His notorious anger now consumed him and his only instinct was to make the man suffer, to torture the ass that had betrayed him.
It was not only rage that drove him. His anger sprang from a deep-rooted fear of losing the man he had come to love with a passion, a fear that blinded him to all else. It was the ultimate paradox. The very man he wanted to possess, to prevent from deserting him, was the man he was thrashing, the man he wanted to destroy. If he couldn't have him, he would make damn sure no-one else could.
In his raging mind there was something approaching paranoia that Steve, handsome, sophisticated Steve, would replace him. Steve! He was to blame. He had to suffer too. Randy pictured the rugged face, so like himself it was like looking in a mirror, and he was consumed with hatred for him. He stopped whipping and looked down wildly at the convulsing muscles of the bound and tortured man.
"I haven't finished with you, asshole. But there's something else I gotta do, and while you wait I want you to try to imagine what I'm doing to your fucking boyfriend."
In a haze of pain Bob was sobbing into the pillow. His ass was on fire, and every muscle of his body ached from his violent efforts to free himself from his restraints. He dimly heard a car door slam and the squeal of tires on gravel, and his mind went to his unsuspecting friend, Steve.
At that moment Steve was alone in his house on Mulholland. He was in the long driveway, dressed only in shorts and sneakers, on his knees pulling weeds from the overgrown flower beds. He heard a car pull up at his gate and he looked up, shading his eyes to see who it was. What he saw startled him.
Randy was like a wild animal. He leapt out of the truck and, not stopping for details like ringing the bell, he vaulted over the driveway gate and strode toward the kneeling man. Steve shot to his feet and faced the menacing, shirtless figure. "Randy. This is a surprise. What brings you here?"
"This!" Randy growled and slammed the back of his fist against Steve's face, sending him spinning into the dirt at the edge of the drive. "You fucked my man, you shithead," he screamed. "You knew he was mine ... and you fucked him."
Steve was choking, his mind spinning, his muscular body sprawled in the dirt. Randy kicked him over onto his back and in one violent move yanked his shorts down to his feet. He dropped to his knees, shoved Steve's legs up high and pressed his rigid cock against his ass.
"Look at my face, asshole. Remember me. And if you come near me again I'll fucking kill you."
Steve stared in wide-eyed terror at the blazing eyes staring down at him. He pleaded, "No, man. Don't do this. We can talk. This is not the way ... aaah!" He felt a piercing shaft of pain in his ass as the huge cock plunged deep inside him. His head flew backward as he screamed in agony.
His suffering was brief and brutal. When Randy wanted to really hurt a man his most vicious weapon was his cock. His fucking could be violent, merciless when he was propelled by rage. And now he tortured the handsome bodybuilder, hammering his ass until it was blazing raw, plunging his cock like a piston deep into his gut. Pinning Steve's arms to the ground he watched with grim satisfaction as the handsome face twisted in pain, the head flying helplessly from side to side, tears streaming from his eyes.
"Be thankful I'm gonna let you go, asshole. I'll leave you with something you won't forget." He pulled back, then slammed his hips forward one last time, his huge shaft shattering the inner depths of the man's got. Steve's screams echoed round the hills as he felt hot liquid pour into his ravaged ass. But even now his destruction was not complete.
Randy stood up and stared down in triumph at the shattered man groaning on the ground. He held his cock, pointed it at Steve's face, and unleashed a stream of rancid urine into his gasping mouth. The stinking liquid poured over the muscle-stud's face and naked body as he sobbed in the agony of defeat and degradation.
Randy zipped up his fly and growled at the broken man. "Remember me, asshole!" He turned and strode away, vaulted back over the gate ... and he was gone.
"Almost home," said Mark as he swung the truck off the Hollywood Freeway.
"Home, yeah," Zack grinned. "And that means work, Darius. Now we tackle the major remodeling. It's a bigger job than I thought, though, and I'm gonna have to find me a good architect."
"Hell, that's no problem," said Mark. Use Lloyd. Oh, that's true, you haven't met Lloyd yet, our staff architect. He'll suit you fine, terrific at his job. Not so sure what you'll make of him, though. Bit preppy for your taste, maybe What d'ya think Darius?"
Darius grinned and nudged Jamie. "I can't wait to find out, sir," and his fantasy wheels were already spinning.
But the subject was dropped abruptly as they pulled up at Zack's house just as Randy screeched to a halt at the gate across the street. Randy was so obsessed, so focused, that he didn't even see them staring at him in amazement. He slammed the truck door, crashed through the gate and disappeared into the house.
Mark's cop instincts kicked in fast and he said, "You guys stay back. Take the boys into your house, Zack. I'll handle this."
Downstairs Bob had heard Randy's truck and was bracing himself for what he knew was to come. He was still helplessly bound and gagged and he tensed as he heard Randy's voice. "I don't think you'll be seeing your boyfriend anymore, shithead. He's probably still eating dirt. Now I'll finish you off."
He picked up the belt and began again. This time he slammed the hard leather across the muscular back, watching the body buck and heave as Bob screamed into his gag. Randy raised his arm again ... but felt his wrist gripped in a vise. He wrenched it free and spun round to face Mark.
Mark gazed in horror at the sobbing, bound figure on the bed, shirt in shreds, ass and back a mass of angry scarlet welts. "Jesus Christ. What the fuck...?"
"Get the fuck out of here, man." Randy yelled. "This has nothing to do with you."
"The hell it doesn't! Shit, Randy, have you totally lost your mind?"
Randy raised the belt again to strike Mark, but his consuming anger threw his timing off. Mark shot out his left arm, grabbed the wrist, and with his other fist slammed a brutal right hook to Randy's jaw. The balance of power changed instantly. Randy crashed to the ground semi-conscious and Mark immediately turned his attention to Bob. Quickly he pulled off the gag and untied him, speaking soothingly.
"It's OK, buddy. I'm taking you out of here. Here, can you stand?"
Bob tried, but slumped against Mark, who pulled his arm over his shoulder and held his waist as he helped him stagger up the stairs and out to the gate. "We're going over to Zack's house," Mark said. "You'll be safe with him."
As they left, they were not unobserved. A pair of eyes watched anxiously from an upstairs window. All this time Pablo had been in an agony of suspense and indecision. When he had seen Randy and Bob arrive he knew something really bad was going down. But Randy had ordered him to go to his room and not come down. And there was an ironclad rule that the boys never interfered in disputes between the masters.
Pablo had not heard Bob's screams, muffled by the gag, so he had no idea what was going on. Even when Randy left for half an hour, he still didn't dare to go down. But now it was different. He had seen Randy return, watched as Mark follow him downstairs, and was then shocked at the sight of Mark helping Bob who was obviously badly hurt. Pablo decided to act.
He went down, crossed the lawn and had almost reached the gate when he heard a sound behind him. Randy was staggering out of the house, rubbing his jaw and muttering, "Mother-fucking son-of-a-bitch cop. I'll fucking kill him."
Pablo spun round and stood legs astride, his back to the gate, blocking Randy's exit. His master's eyes flared. "Get out of my way, boy. I've got a job to do."
Pablo was trembling, but he took a deep breath. "No, sir. I can't let you leave. You're too angry, sir. You'll hurt someone ... screw everything up ... get hurt yourself. You have to stay here with me."
Randy could not believe his ears. "I said, get out of my way, asshole! Now!"
Pablo was now really scared, but held his ground. "Sorry, sir. No, sir."
"You fucking insolent little piece of shit. OK, you asked for it." Powered by the adrenaline of rage Randy reached forward, clamped his hands on Pablo's waist and picked him up bodily. He spun round and threw him like a rag doll across the lawn. Pablo's arms and legs flailed and he crashed heavily against the table, knocking it over, sending dishes and food flying. He screamed in pain as his arm slammed against the table's edge and he fell limply to the ground.
Randy's head jerked back in shock. It was as if a bucket of ice water had been thrown over him. His delusional rage was now overwhelmed by a new, sharp sensation, a sudden realization. His boy was hurt, injured ... and he, Randy, had done it. He had attacked the boy he loved. With the pitiful howl of a wounded animal he rushed to his boy, fell to the ground and cradled him in his arms.
"Oh, God," he moaned. "What have I done to you, kid? Look at me, Pablo. Talk to me."
Pablo stirred painfully, and at that moment he heard the sound of approaching footsteps. Mark had delivered Bob into the care of a horrified Zack and had come back to confront Randy. The devastated construction worker looked up at Mark with a pitiful expression.
"Help me, Mark. I don't know what to do."
Mark's voice was calm, comforting. "OK, guys. I'm here now. I'll take charge. Pablo, can you hear me?"
"Yes, sir," Pablo groaned. "But my am hurts, sir. Real bad." Tears began streaming down his face as Mark knelt to check him out. He gently pressed his arm, made him move his fingers, and came to the conclusion that it wasn't broken. Most likely a very bad wrist sprain.
"I'm taking you to the Emergency Room, kid, let them patch you up. Here, careful, let me help you up." As he walked Pablo toward the gate he turned to Randy, still kneeling dazed on the ground. "You," Mark said. "I'll deal with you later."
It was a couple of hours later when Mark brought Pablo back home. His wrist was tightly bandaged, his arm in a sling. Darius had been clearing up the wreckage of the meal table and looked up in relief. "Good," Mark said. "You're here, Darius. Take care of Pablo. I'm going across the street to check on Bob."
Darius hugged his friend carefully. "Dude, you OK? Seems like you're some kind of hero. We worked out what must've happened. That took guts, dude, I gotta tell you. Randy must've been nuts ... out of his tree."
"Where is he, Darius?"
"Dunno. Said something about going to work. Guess he's gone to the construction site to work off his rage. I've seen it before ... manual grunt work seems to do that for the boss. Look, kiddo, I gotta run across the street for a minute to take Zack a shirt for Bob. I'll be right back."
But when he came back Pablo was gone.
Darius had been right about the boss and hard work. Randy's mind was still reeling, unable to process all that had happened. And when his mind was a mess he took refuge in manual labor, let his body take over. Adrenaline still coursed through his veins and he channeled it into heavy lifting. At least here on the construction site he was still boss. Physical strength was what counted here and he was the strongest mother-fucker around.
Alone on the site he was dismantling a small, old building, tossing beams and concrete onto a truck to be hauled away. He exulted in physical exertion, straining his muscles, working up a sweat. But suddenly, out of the corner of his eye, he glimpsed someone moving. Pablo had walked onto the site. Shit, that was the last thing he wanted. He hadn't begun to get his mind round any of that ... no way was he ready to confront it. He turned his back on the boy, heaved up a huge concrete slab and tossed it onto the truck.
He heard a cough behind him and without turning round growled, "What the fuck are you doing here? Aren't you scared of me ... afraid I'll break your other arm?"
The reply was firm. "No sir."
"I'm no good for you kid. What the fuck do you want from me, anyway?"
"I want you to look at me, sir."
Randy sighed and turned to face Pablo. Despite his confusion he was moved by the sight of the resilient young kid, standing proud and erect, even though his arm was in a sling."
"Listen to me, kid. I said I'm no good for you. I'm not the kind of guy can be trusted with a boy. So get the hell away from me. Shit, I should never have adopted you."
That was like a dagger to the heart for Pablo. With a sharp intake of breath he stared at Randy, tears welling in his eyes. He turned and started to leave. Randy watched him stumble away, shoulders slumped, head bowed. And Randy's heart broke. "Wait a minute, kid. How did you get here, anyway?"
Pablo stopped and turned around. "On my bike, sir."
"With one arm in a sling? Jesus, you can't go back like that. OK, stick around and I'll take you home."
Randy carried on hauling the trash. Pablo came up beside him and with his one good arm picked up bricks and threw them on the truck. Randy glanced sideways and saw the tough, determined face, jaw clenched as the boy worked resolutely alongside his master. God, he loved this kid. Right now he was the only solid thing in his world. Randy's voice softened.
"What are you doing here, kid? After what I did to you why in God's name did you come here?"
Again the answer was clear and strong. "I had to, sir. I'm your boy." Then his voice cracked. "And because I love you, sir."
Randy dropped what he was holding and took a sharp intake of breath. His eyes filled with tears. There was a simplicity about this kid, a strength, that moved him beyond words. He turned to face him, came close and very gingerly put his arms round him, afraid to touch his injured arm.
Pablo smiled for the first time. "It's OK, sir. I won't break. I don't break easily."
Randy found himself smiling too. "I know that about you, kid. You sure don't." He held the boy tighter, pulling the young face toward him and burying it on his shoulder. He whispered in his ear, "What I said just now ... about you being my boy ... the adoption and everything. I didn't mean any of it. I love you, kid."
"I know, sir."
Randy gazed directly into Pablo's deep brown eyes. "What I did back there to you, kid. Is there anything I can do to start getting right with you again?"
"Yes there is, sir."
"Name it, kiddo."
"You can take me home and make love to me, sir." His face broke into his mischievous crooked grin. "By the way, the doc said I don't have to wear this sling in bed, sir."
Randy laughed. "You are something else, kiddo, you know that? God, I wish I had your strength and plain common sense. OK. Let's go home." He slung his arm over the boy's shoulder and they walked slowly toward the gate.
Pablo looked up at him. "You know, sir. Everything will come right with Bob."
Randy's face clouded. "No, kid. Not after what I did. I could've killed him. I was a total fucking asshole. I was just so scared of losing him. And now I have. He's left me. And the way I treated him he's right to."
Pablo touched the hand resting on his shoulder. "I think you're wrong sir. After all, you guys have been through stuff like this before."
"No, not like this. This time it's different."
"Different how?"
"Well, you see, Pablo. This time Bob has Zack."
TO BE CONTINUED in "A Trial Of Strength ... Part 80"