Drummer Boys

Drummer Boys By Kevin Carson

This story is about my relationship with my friend and, well, much, much more-than-a-jack-off buddy. Yes, it includes gay teen sex stuff. It's based on true experiences but some of the names and places have been changed for privacy. Hey, if this is illegal where you're at or if you're too young to be reading this, then you better not. Getting in trouble isn't cool. All rights reserved. No reproductions permitted without prior permission. Copyright 2008.

Thanks to everyone who has written to me. I really appreciate your comments/feedback and questions about this story. My email is: kc.drummerboy@yahoo.com.

I also want to apologize for taking so long between chapters. I've been really busy doing a bunch of stuff... so I just wanted to say I'm sorry.

Sincerely, -kevin.

Part 39.

Whoever was calling me from area code 512 didn't leave a voice mail. I had no clue as to where 512 is, and I didn't recognize the phone number, either. I guess if it was all that important they would have left a message, right?

But as it turned out, I could have - and should have - answered it, because Marcie and "Mother" went into the house, as if they never even saw me. I mean, I know they saw me... they had to. But then again, it wasn't that unusual that I'd be getting something from the garage. After all, it's not like I was breaking in, in the middle of the night or anything! Come on now! Me... a burglar?? Haha, I'd never do anything like that, now would I?? But still, in a way, the fact that they practically ignored me made me more jumpy and nervous. All sorts of things ran through my mind...

First, it was obvious that the car in the garage, the tan Pontiac G-6, was the one that hit my brother. So somehow, someone in the Lamson household was involved. But who? I doubted that Mr. Lamson would have been out driving that late at night, and surely Mrs. Lamson wasn't either. And I didn't know Marcie's husband was there... he must have been home for a short visit because I remember them telling me before that he was away, like on business or something. So when Mr. Lamson mentioned they were taking him back to the airport... that meant he'd been home. I just didn't think he was the rowdy and reckless type. So all bets were on that Marcie was the culprit. What did she know, and more importantly, what had she done? That remained to be found out.

I also wondered if Marcie knew that I returned the booze. Could she have seen me, even though it was dark and I was really quiet? Surely, if she had spotted me, she would have done something at the time. I admit, I was pretty sneaky about it, but I'm still not a burglar. If she did know, was she planning to come back out and confront me? On the other hand, maybe it was just too soon and she hadn't figured it out yet. And there was the possibility that either she wasn't involved in the hit-and-run incident, or that if she was, she didn't know it was my brother. Which means, maybe it wasn't intentional. Except, you know and I know, that really, any kind of recklessness is, in a way, intentional. But I didn't have time to stand there and play FBI and analyze everything.

I thought quickly, and even though at the moment I didn't have the nerve to answer that call I was receiving, I was able to take a picture of the car with my phone. More evidence! Actually, I took two pictures: one of the side with the missing mirror and the second one of the license plate. I figured, if Marcie was gonna come outside to say something to me - whatever that may be - the longer she waited, I was that much safer, at least for a little while.

I just wanted to finish up my work and get the hell out of there. This mowing job at the Lamson's was getting to be too much stress. It sure as fuck wasn't worth the money. Still, I completed the trimming, swept up, put the weed whacker and extension cord away and was pleasantly met by Mr. Lamson with my check. Thank God he came outside with it... I was dreading having to knock on the door to tell him I was through, and risk having to possibly talk to Marcie.

"Nice job, Kevin! I'm so glad your brother recommended you. How is he, by the way?"

Shit. Now what the fuck was I gonna say? I wanted to tell him his slut-bitch-cunt daughter really fucked him up, and Lisa too, but I couldn't very well actually say that, now could I? So I was nice. "Well, umm... he's OK I guess, Mr. Lamson." I kept my response short and sweet. "Well, actually, he's great! Couldn't be better! Is there anything else you want me to do?" I asked, with an urgent tone that plainly said I wanted to get the hell out of there.

"No."

And that's all he said.

"Well, thanks, Mr. Lamson... I better go now."

I decided to throw that in that Keith "couldn't be better." If Mr. Lamson DID have any knowledge of the accident or anything, maybe that would throw him off.

I called Mark on the way home to see what time he'd be done with work, and he said he'd be finishing up soon, as well.

"Yeah, I was thinking maybe we could go to the hospital and see Lisa" he said.

"That sounds good to me, but, I gotta talk to you first. You're coming over aren't you?" I wondered.

"Actually, I was gonna ride your bike to my house and throw it in the back of the Jeep, then come on over. My parents are at the hospital now, and they have my dad's car."

"Alright. See ya in a few..."

"Wait... what's going on?? You sound so serious, sweetie."

He must have been someplace where no one could hear him, because he called me sweetie! "Oh, just some shit happening... I got this weird phone call that I didn't answer... actually, I couldn't answer it... anyway, it was from somewhere, I don't know where. I'll tell you all about it when you get to my house..."

"Wait a minute, bud, you're not making any sense. You get a call and you don't answer it? What happened to the kid who practically answers his phone BEFORE it rings?" Mark teased.

"Knock it off, Mark. Seriously, I'll tell you later. I just didn't recognize the number, it was like from some funky area code, I dunno. Maybe it was nothing. Maybe a telemarketer or something."

"Quit acting so weird. Telemarketers don't call cell phones. Just call it back and ask whoever answers who the fuck they are and why they're calling you. Toughen up, sweetie. It's no big deal."

"Yeah, you're right, but no, well whatever. It just sorta freaked me out at the time, that's all. Just... I'll see ya in a little while. Hurry, OK?"

When I got home, Dad was outside in the front yard talking to the neighbors, I guess about all the shit that happened last night... you know, the accident and all. I waved to them, but then kept my head down and walked up the driveway.

"Be right in, Kev..." Dad yelled over.

"OK, Dad."

I grabbed a diet Coke from the fridge and practically chugged it, I was so damn thirsty. Then I had to piss, of course, so on my way to the bathroom I poked my head in on Keith. Naturally, he was asleep. No surprise there, considering everything he'd been through.

After I went to the bathroom, I washed up a little. I dunno, I felt dirty... like I should take another shower, but I knew that was ridiculous. Just thinking about the Lamsons makes me feel grungy. I was still a bit nervous, and I waited down in the kitchen for Dad to come in. I really had to talk to him and explain about the car mirror... how I found it, and all. And somehow I had to tell him that I'm tangled up in this whole mess. I had to tell him about the booze and Marcie and how I put it back... how I was caught up in all that stuff. I felt sorta responsible. One more fuck-up for me. Maybe he'd understand. I'm tangled up, caught up and fucked up. Complicated, isn't it? But typical, for me.

"How are you feeling, Kev?"

"I'm fine, Dad. You?" I didn't wait for him to answer. "Um... can I talk to you? Like, now, it's important."

"Sure... what's up?"

"First, how's Keith? I checked when I came in just now and he was sleeping. Is he feeling any better?"

"Well, he got up a while ago, and he's pretty sore, all over. I think you stiffen up in an accident like that, and even though he's in good shape, I'm sure he's got bones and muscles hurting that he didn't even know existed. So he'll be in pain for a while."

"Dad, please don't be mad at me, but I might have had something to do with what happened... the accident and all..." I just blurted it out.

"What? How?"

"Seriously, Dad. It sorta goes back to that bottle of scotch I found at the Lamson's."

"I'm not following you here, Kev..." Dad nodded skeptically.

"Well, remember when I found that hidden bottle of whiskey and was asking you about it, and you told me not to drink it... remember? But I did, kind-of. What I mean is, I sort-of drank some of it anyway, even though you told me not to."

"What?? Whatever... what's that got to do with the accident?"

"Well, Marcie Lamson caught me. I was in their shed, you know, one day after I got done doing my work. But I wasn't really drinking it... I just put the bottle to my lips and tasted it, that's all, and she walked in by surprise. I was stunned. And a bit scared, I'd say."

"What the hell are you getting at? I told you to leave that stuff alone. And from what I gather, Marcie Lamson is bad news. So... please explain..."

"Like I said, Dad, I only wanted a sip, like... to taste it. It's not like I was getting wasted or anything, but I realize now what it must have looked like what I was doing and what she thought."

I could tell Dad was getting a little pissed, something that I hoped to avoid, but which I guess, under the circumstances, was predictable. He had a right to be angry with me, but still, Dad usually always forgives me. Just then, Mark tapped on the back door, then he walked right in the house.

(Just a little sidebar here: Mark is perfectly fine doing that at our house... walking right in. And he can help himself to anything he wants. Like, he can get in the fridge or use the bathroom without asking... whatever. He practically lives here, you know. I, on the other hand, CANNOT and DO NOT do as I please at his house. Part of it's just me... a "Kevin" thing... one of my little quirks. The only other place on earth I feel COMPLETELY comfortable doing whatever I feel like is at my grandparent's house. And part of it's Mark's family. Well, just his mom, really. She sort-of puts up this barrier that I feel like I'm not quite as welcome there as he is here. Whatever...)

"Could you give us a minute, Mark?" Dad said, rather sharply, in spite of the usual "you're-always-welcome-because-you're-like-part-of-the-family" greeting that he's known for.

"Oops... sure, Mr. C... sorry... I'll just... wait... outside..."

"No, Dad, it's OK. Mark should hear all of this, too. It involves him as well..."

They both looked at me in amazement and said "WHAT??????" at the same time.

"This is getting stranger by the second, Kevin." Dad said.

"What are you guys talking about, Kev?" Mark asked. "Me???"

"No... I sorta got myself into a situation that might have led to this whole accident thing with Lisa and Keith. You know, what happened and all."

"Go on," Dad insisted. I could tell he was really on the verge of being totally pissed off.

"Well, I was just telling my Dad that I had found a bottle of scotch hidden in a box in the Lamson's shed, when I was painting their porch. I asked Dad about it and he told me to leave it alone, but I was curious what it tasted like and I took a sip. I know, I know... it was stupid... a bad decision on my part... but... Anyway, at that very moment, who walks in and sees me holding the open bottle?? You guessed it! Marcie. And she gave me like eight brand new bottles of different kinds of liquor, like rum and vodka and stuff.

"What?? Like, why would she give you eight bottles of hard liquor?" Mark chuckled. "That's stupid. I mean, so... she busted you. Whatever. No big deal."

"Well, she made it a big deal... I guess to shut me up. She basically threatened me."

"But why?"

"I dunno... I guess so if I told anyone, she could say I stole it, that's what she tried to make it look like. That's what she said when I told her I'd tell you, Dad. She laughed and said no one would believe me, that it was my word against hers. So I thought, what the fuck... I'm fucked."

"KEVIN!!!"

"SORRY!! I mean, I'm screwed."

"What do you mean? The booze was there because they're all drunks anyway. Everyone knows that... all three of them, and Marcie's husband, too. They're all, like... alcoholics," Mark added. "It's no secret what goes on there."

"I was just an easy target. She thought she could use it against me and tried to blackmail me. She put the booze in my bookbag, giving it to me so her old lady wouldn't find it. But she told me to get rid of it respectfully... don't just pour it out. She even said I could use it to get a girl drunk just to fuck her..."

"KEVIN!!! I'm warning you!!"

Yikes! Dad was really angry. Could it have been my language??

"Sorry!! I mean... get a girl drunk to take advantage of her. I knew that wasn't going to happen, so I just left and brought it home first. Well I kept it and all, and like, when we were at Indian Ridge and you lifted up my bookbag I thought I'd die. I didn't want you to find out what I had in it before I had a chance to tell you."

"What?? We drove all over God-knows-where... all the way to the end of Long Island and back with that stuff in my mom's car? Jesus, Kev, we could have gotten stopped by the police! Then what??"

"Well it's not like that hasn't happened before," I snapped back. "You always seem to handle the cops just fine, Mark. Just fine," I said, somewhat sarcastically.

"What???" Dad asked. "Is there something else I don't know about?? Have you two been stopped by the police before??"

Neither Mark nor I answered that, acting as if Dad hadn't asked. I'm sure it'll come back and bite me in the ass eventually, though.

"What if WE'd gotten in an accident?" Shit, so why DIDN'T you tell me??"

"I dunno... I just wasn't thinking." Fuck, now Mark was pissed at me too, I could tell. "Come on, you guys, it's not like that. I just wasn't thinking. I mean, I was thinking... it's all I was thinking about really... I just made some not-so-great decisions, that's all."

Oh boy. I think Mark and I just had our first fight.

"Yeah, well, you put Mark in a really bad position because you weren't thinking right, Kevin. If something had happened, BOTH of you could have been in some REALLY big trouble. Jesus... and you could have told ME about this a hell of a lot sooner. You had to know I'd find out... somehow, sooner or later," Dad said.

"I thought we trusted each other, Kev..."

Shit! I started to cry when he said that... questioning our trust. It really hurt. I was hoping that I wouldn't break down during all of this, and somehow I quickly recovered, although my voice was shaking and a bit squeaky. "Mark... we do... trust each other! It's just that... this wasn't your problem... I wanted to handle it on my own, I guess. I mean... I want to show you guys that I CAN handle things. Jeez, I know how messed up this must sound... but... then when we got home I realized I didn't have my bookbag, and that's when I called you..."

"You mean, you freaked out..."

"Whatever. And that's when Keith and I made up and I asked him to drive me back out to Bay Shore to look for it, and I was lucky enough to find it... I just kind-of misplaced it... so then what I ended up doing is... was... whatever... I ended up returning it to the Lamson's. It's just that I didn't tell them about it... exactly... I had Keith drop me off near their house and I sneaked in and put it back, in the potting shed, just the way it was."

"Keith knows about this??" Dad quizzed me.

"No, Dad, I didn't give him the details, not yet. Honest, I was gonna tell all you guys about this, I was. It's just all this other stuff happened first."

"So back up a step. You mean, you broke into the Lamson's shed... their LOCKED shed, by the way, and you went in there, in the dark, without their knowledge or permission??" Dad asked. "Sounds like breaking and entering to me!"

"Sorta, but I wouldn't put it like that, Dad. I'm allowed to go in there because I do their lawn."

"Try again, Kevin... you don't mow their lawn at 11:00 o'clock at night."

"Whatever, Dad. I know you're majorly pissed at me, and you have a right to be, but I knew I fucked up - I mean MESSED up, sorry - and I wanted to just get rid of it. And you know what Dad? I felt better after I did it, after I got rid of it, after I put it back in the shed. OK, that's not entirely true... I felt dirty, but a little better that I knew I took care of it... not the way you're saying I should have, but I DID take care of it. You gotta give me a little credit for SOMEthing."

"Go on..."

"So, then, that's when we looked at pictures and stuff, and ate and then Keith went out and Mark came over, and then, you know... the accident. And you know how Keith kept saying it was someone in a tan or gold Buick or whatever that tried to run him off the road. Well, Marcie and her husband have a tannish-colored Pontiac G-6! I saw it... it's in the garage at the Lamson's! I just saw it today when I was in there. It's the car that hit Keith, I'm positive!"

"He also said it might have been a foreign car. And besides - gold, tan, whatever - it's a pretty common color."

"Yes, Dad, I know. But..."

"But WHAT???"

Keith also said the person tried to pass him on the left and tried to run him off the road. Well, this morning, as I was leaving, I found a car mirror in the flowers out front... and Dad... it's tan metallic, and it had like blue paint scrapes on it... from Keith's car..."

"Where are you going with all this Kevin?"

"Dad, Mark... listen... I put the mirror on the shelf in our garage... come on, I'll show you..." We walked out in the garage and I showed Dad and Mark the car mirror. Now, all of a sudden, they didn't seem so pissed... the tide was turning, so-to-speak. "And, get this, guys... the mirror on the passenger side of the G-6 in the Lamson's garage is missing! It's gone! It's fucking missing!!" I also showed them the pictures I took of the car with my phone.

Dad didn't yell at me for using the F-word that time!

"Do you think Marcie thought it was you driving, Kev? And tried to hurt you on purpose?"

I don't know... I think she knows I don't drive yet... and we're not sure she was the one driving... it could have been any of them... even her husband, because he was home for a visit."

"Let's not jump to conclusions, Kev. We haven't proved anything, yet."

"But, Dad, get real... what else could it be?"

Dad held on to the mirror and just as we were leaving the garage to go back into the kitchen, Keith surprised us. "What's going on?" he asked, still kind-of sleepy, "Were you guys arguing or something? Little Dude... you woke me up."

"Sorry, Keith... but I have something to tell you... I think Marcie Lamson might have been the one who hit you, or at least she had something to do with it... I found this mirror in the flowers out front today, and they have a goldish-tan G-6 in their garage... with the passenger side mirror missing..."

"Holy shit! Why would Marcie do something like that?"

"Well your brother's making some assumptions, and there's a little more to it, but it does seem like he's on the right track..." Finally, it seemed Dad was on my side. I knew he'd come around, eventually. He always does.

"What are you gonna do, Dad? Like, can we go over there, to the Lamson's and check this out, right now?" Keith asked.

"No, no... I'll handle it. How are you feeling, son? Are you up to going to see Lisa?"

"I'm fine, Dad, just a little sore. But yeah, I was gonna take a shower and then go. Kev, Mark... what about you guys?"

"Yeah we wanna go too..."

"Um... Mark, Keith... go on inside. Kevin, let's talk a minute..."

Oh God, here it comes! "Yes, Dad?"

Dad paused slightly, but even with the softness in his voice, I felt the impact. Dad rarely raises his voice... well, he does a little, like when I kept saying "fuck." But the yelling doesn't last long. Believe me, I know when he means business. "Son, this took me a little by surprise. I'm not as angry as you think I am. I wish you'd have come to me right as soon as this happened, but you didn't. So... we have to do something about this."

"What can you do Dad? Are you gonna tell the police?"

"Well, yes, I have to. There's no option but to turn this over to the investigators. It's the right thing to do. On the other hand, I don't want you dragged through a bunch of stuff. We've all been through enough. But, that said, we better put our helmets on, because I have a feeling this is going to be a tough one. You'll need to make a statement to the police, and they'll have to be absolutely sure this mirror is from that car. Common sense tells us it is, but legally, the police have to determine that fact."

"So, I have to make a statement?? Like, am I gonna have to sit at in one of those little rooms at one of those little tables with that bright light hanging over it like on "Law & Order"? Will you be with me? And do I have to tell them everything? Am I in trouble... again??"

"No, you're not in trouble - with the police. And yes, I'll be with you. But I'm afraid you will have to tell them everything... up front."

"Like... do I have to tell them about the booze? Will Mark get in trouble?"

"Yes, you have to tell them, and no, it won't affect Mark at all. If you don't tell them and Marcie does, or if they ask and suspect you're holding any information back, then that's a problem. I learned a long time ago - I think when I was about your age - that full disclosure is the best. It's the only way. Get it all out in the open."

"But Dad, I can't... I can't bring Mark into this. His parents will find out everything, and I'm already on thin ice with Ellen... erm... Mrs. Graham. I swear, she'll never let him see me again, and honestly Dad, I couldn't handle that."

"I'll deal with the Grahams... don't worry. Now, I need to get to the police station with this right away. I'll go while you're at the hospital. Keep your phone on, and try not to talk about this any more with your brother or Mark, for the time being. Listen to me and do what I say this time, understand? And Kevin, please, you really need to watch the language... please."

"Yes, I understand. But, Dad... you said I won't be in trouble with the police... but, am I in trouble with you?"

"No."

And that's all he said.

We went inside, and before the dust even had a chance to settle, Dad wasted no time calling my grandfather, I guess so he could tell him everything that I just told him. I don't think Mark heard any of the conversation, but I did, and I know Dad said something to Grandpa to the effect of, "well you're the criminal lawyer in the family." That comment made me immediately get goosebumps in the crack of my ass. Deep down, I knew Dad knew the right thing to do, but I never, ever thought there would actually be anything "criminal" about any of this. But, what the fuck do I know? I DO know one thing: I'll never be a lawyer. I might be a teacher... or a writer... or, even a professional drummer! Haha, I have a better chance of being a rockstar than a pornstar! Whatever.

Oh well... back to reality... I had butterflies in my stomach, feeling spacier than an astronaut. Mark followed me up to my room... but not to fool around. We were waiting for Keith to finish up in the bathroom. I had to acknowledge our little spat.

"OK, are you still mad at me?" I asked, sheepishly.

"No, sweetie, I'm not."

"That was our first fight, wasn't it?"

"No, Kevin, don't feel that way. I was stunned by everything, and I think your dad was too, but honest, I'm not mad at you. And I'm really sorry about what I said about us trusting each other. You should be mad at ME for saying that."

"No worries." I wanted to force my tongue down Mark's throat and just kiss him to death and make out and just... fade away. Me and him.

"Well, since you think we had a fight, sweetie, you know what they say... that "make-up sex" is pretty awesome, so... we'll just have to... "you know"... a little later...!" We laughed.

"If that's the case, we'll have to fight more often!"

"Yeah, right."

Mark lay across my bed, sprawled out beautifully, and of course, I couldn't help drooling as I gazed at his crotch. Damn, I just couldn't take my eyes off of his famous bulge. I mean, it was right there on display for my eyes only! I love it! I could have easily jumped on top of him, but, I didn't dare. Besides, Dad or Keith could have easily walked in on us. Not that that ever stopped us before...

"You're doing that on purpose, aren't you??!!"

"What??? I'm not doing anything... I'm just laying here, that's all. What do you mean??" Mark smiled teasingly. "I'm just a little tired, that's all."

"Yeah, well I bet if I hopped on top of you and rode that horsecock of yours you wouldn't be so tired!" We both giggled like little girls, because we both knew that was true!

I put on some music, specifically the Shrek 2 soundtrack... even more specifically, the song "You're So True," which made Mark smile. "Damn it, sweetie! Remember when we rented that movie and watched it over at Scott and Matt's? When we got back to my house we were gonna watch it again, but... you kept me up all night... and we just kept playing the movie over and over... with the sound turned off!"

"Yeah, well, as I recall... we didn't watch too much of the movie because YOU kept ME up... in more ways than one!"

"Fucking and sucking! You're amazing, Kev!"

"OK, you're dreaming, homie. YOU are the amazing one." Mark never stopped smiling when I said that, and just lay on the bed with his eyes closed and his hands behind his head. "You gonna take a nap, or what??" I teased.

"I might!"

I was glad Mark and I were planning on even more "making up" later on. I was really happy that our first little fight was just that... little, and nothing too serious. I couldn't live without him.

As we were waiting for Keith and Dad, my mind reverted back to the phone call I got earlier at the Lamson's. I was curious as hell who it might have been, so I did an area code lookup on the computer. Wow! I discovered that 512 is the area code for Austin, Texas. Hmm... that's right! Austin fuckin' Texas!

The only person I know from "Austin fuckin' Texas" is Allie... Allie Stewart... you know, from the camping trip at Indian ridge. Wait!! That's it! That's who it must have been! Allie!!! I remembered her saying she's originally from Austin, and her folks and her brother live there. I wondered - if it was in fact Allie - why she'd call and not leave a message. And I thought, Mark was right... that all I needed to do was to call the number back. Jeez, I hoped everything was alright.

"Mark... that mystery phone call... it was Allie, I'm positive, because... the number is from Austin, Texas and that's where she's from, remember??!!"

"Call her... see what she wants..."

But just as I started to re-dial, Dad came in. so I abandoned the idea of the callback... for the moment, that is. "OK, boys, let's get going. Your brother's ready."

When the four of us got to North Shore, Mark's parents were still there. Lisa was sitting up and seemed to be feeling a lot better, given the circumstances. It brought back memories of Mark being in that very same hospital not long ago when he had his tonsils out.

Mr. and Mrs. Graham and Dad went out in the hall after a few minutes, then he poked his head in to say goodbye, and that he'd call me if he needed me. Now my heart was starting to pound, because you know what? Seeing Lisa in the hospital only made the accident even more vivid. And knowing where Dad was going, and what he was about to tell... well, reality set in even more. Plus, knowing that I couldn't tell Mark, or even Keith any of this... shit! I was a nervous wreck.

"God, Little Dude... you're a spaz all of a sudden... what's gotten into you?" Keith wondered.

"Nothing. Umm, I'm just gonna wait in the hall."

Lisa was going to be fine, which made me feel a little better. Soon, Mark came out. "You OK??"

"Yeah. Hey, I'm gonna try to call Allie now. Let's go down to the lobby."

I nervously redialed, and guess what? Sure enough, my detective work paid off! It was Allie for sure!

"Allie? Hi, it's Kevin Carson."

"Kevin!! Hey!!"

"I guess you called me? I wasn't really sure it was you since you didn't leave a message, and in fact, I didn't recognize the area code or the number, so I didn't know who the hell was calling me. Anyway, I looked up the area code and figured it might be you since it's an Austin, Texas number. I thought I'd just re-dial and see who answered. And it's you!! Is everything OK?"

"Oh, I've had that same number since I first got a cell phone, and I just kept it when I moved to New York. I can't believe I forgot to give you my number when you gave me yours. But, yeah, everything's fine! I didn't leave a message because Jon walked in just as I was calling, and then I got sidetracked, and I meant to call you back. Then I thought maybe you were busy, but..."

"Well, what's going on?"

"Yeah, well, I've been thinking so much about you, and I just wanted to call and say hi."

"OK... so... HI!!!!" We both laughed, a bit nervously. But I was smiling, and so was Mark, even though he couldn't hear both ends of the conversation. "So... how's Jon? Did you guys have a fun time out at Indian Ridge?? Like I bet you partied your asses off and stuff!"

"Well, yeah... sort-of. Actually, Jon's doing OK... busy... we're both busy, taking a summer class, both of us, and working and... I want to apologize. He's not a bad guy at all. I didn't want you to think that..."

"Allie, come on... I don't think Jon's a creep or anything. I'm not really all that good with people, either, but hey... Jon's cool. It's all good!"

"There's another reason I wanted to call... I wanted to talk to you, and..."

"And... what??"

"Kevin... I have a huge favor. Something you said... you really touched me, and I've been thinking about it non-stop since we met. And I know I don't know you all that well, but I want to change that, and..."

"Well... and what???"

"It's about my brother..."

"Nick??? Is everything OK??"

"Yeah, he's fine! God, Kevin, when you said that, about how you'd like to meet him... well it's a great idea. He and my folks are coming to visit in a few weeks, and I'd love for us to get together. I know it's a lot to ask..."

"Allie!!! I'd love it!!! It'll be perfect!!" I was practically screaming. Mark was hanging on me, wanting to know everything Allie and I were talking about. Oh my God, I was getting another call. It was Dad. Shit!

"So, Kevin, I was ----king maybe you -nd I cou-d -eet up first, so -- can -alk about it... ... ..." she kept breaking up and I didn't get all of what she was saying.

"Allie, I'll call you back. I'm losing the call here at the hospital and my Dad's calling and it's important, so I gotta go." I answered Dad's call and he told me to meet him at the canopy in front of the hospital... he'd pick me up and take me to the police station.

Talk about mixed emotions... Jesus. Now my stomach was churning again, because I knew what I was going to have to do in, like, the next 20 minutes or so. It was torture, plain and simple. But I had to do it for my brother and Lisa.

And the other feeling was sort-of euphoric... hearing from Allie, and that we would meet her brother soon! That gave me a good feeling, because it's exactly what I wanted to do... make a new friend, and maybe un-do some of the stupid shit I've done in the past. I was in a roller-coaster and not strapped in.

If I had only answered when Allie called me when I was in the Lamson's garage... if I had known of her plans for us to meet Nick... well it would have given me something to look forward to. I mean, I DO look forward to it. It's just that maybe had I known that all along, it would have made telling Dad and Mark what I had to tell them a whole lot easier. Telling them had it's ups and downs, that's for sure. Both of them, angry with me at the same time, that was a lot. But I'm lucky their anger was short-lived. I'll never keep anything from Mark ever again... ever. I know they love me... Dad and Mark... they love me. And I love them.

Dad pulled up just as I walked out the front door of the hospital... I hopped in and we were at the police station within five minutes. I didn't have the courage to ask Dad what he and the police talked about, but it must have been substantial, because there I was, not quite ready to tell-all about Marcie Lamson... and then some.

I won't go into great detail about what it was like talking to the investigator, except that it was really nothing like on "Law & Order." Dad sat right beside me, across from the detective... Lt. Kline. In a way, the setting reminded me of that day last fall in Mr. Hartman's office when I was stuck in that pile of shit with Emily DeMarco. It's all sort-of fuzzy to me, what I told the police, because I really was a nervous wreck. I told him everything... about finding the scotch, about Marcie and about finding the mirror... then discovering the tan G-6 in the Lamson's garage. Dad led me through a lot of it. If I ever needed a Xanax, that was it.

It weirded me out to be there, too, because, in every situation, I've managed to wiggle my way out of my incidents with the police. I admit, I've had a little help from Mark and stuff. But, I just automatically feel guilty. Luckily, I didn't run into Officer Hardass or Officer Flashlight, I guess because they work the night shift. Either way, police stations are creepy places.

Detective Kline was very nice, and explained that, while he couldn't foresee the outcome, my information was very helpful to the investigation. More than likely, though, whatever was to happen, if the Lamson's are involved, it would probably be settled out of court and through the insurance companies.

"With no real witnesses, unless there is a confession of some sort, this is just one of those things. I know that's not really the answer you want to hear," he told Dad and me, "but, probably the most we're looking at is a hit-skip."

"Yeah, so... isn't the mirror enough evidence to throw them in jail??"

"Simply throwing someone in jail isn't always the best answer. But before it even gets to something like that, let us complete the investigation. Then it's up to the DA. I will tell you this, if you hadn't found the mirror and come forward, your brother might be the one facing charges of failure to control or reckless operation... especially with the young lady in the hospital. So, Kevin... you've done the right thing."

"But what about making whoever did this take responsibility?" I asked. "They should pay."

"I assure you both, the responsible party will be held accountable. This isn't just going to go away. But it's tricky, and believe me, Kevin, above all else... at the end of the day, what your Dad wants is what's best for Lisa Graham... your brother... and you."

OK, that was a bit overwhelming. I guess the path of least resistence is the settlement and resolution Dad was getting at.

When we were done, Detective Kline actually thanked me, and mentioned that the pictures I took would also be helpful. He asked if I had any other questions for him, and the only thing I wanted to know was if I was going to have to confront Marcie.

"No."

And that's all he said.

After all the "thank-you's" and cordial "we'll-get-back-to-you's" and such, Dad and I finally left. We didn't say a whole lot on the way back to the hospital. I was drained. But I did ask Dad about having to tell Keith about all of this. He said we'd sit down together, the three of us and talk about it, and not to worry about it. Keith was ready to leave, and Mark said he was going home with his Dad.

"Kev... wanna stay over tonight?"

"I guess so." I mean, of course I wanted to stay over with Mark. I think his mom was gonna stay at the hospital a while longer, and his dad didn't seem to care one way or another. Then Dad and Mr. Graham talked privately... I'm sure Dad was filling him in on whatever. I never asked. I trusted Dad that he would make it all good between our family and the Grahams. Not that there was anything bad... it was more my perception that we were on a slippery slope, particularly with Mrs. Graham, since I felt I was somewhat responsible for the accident, in a roundabout way. And it was my brother driving the car, but it's her daughter in the hospital. And I dunno, just the little things she's said about us in the past, like "God only knows what goes on at the Carson's"... you know, shit like that. But one thing I know is they really like Dad, so I trust that it's all good. Or at least that it's going to be. Dad will make sure of that.

I didn't have much of an appetite, but I sorta snacked around once we got home. Keith took a vicodin and went back to sleep. I think Debbie Kirsch was going to come over and hang out with Dad. That didn't bother me... I was OK with it. She makes Dad happy, so I can live with that.

As I was getting my things ready to take over to Mark's, I called Allie back, and explained why I had to hang up so abruptly. We giggled and laughed as if we had known each other all our lives. I told her all about the accident and about Lisa being in the hospital and all, and I gave her the "Reader's Digest" version of having to talk to the police. I just couldn't re-live all of that again in detail. I just want Marcie out of my mind. I did confide that I've been on one hell of a rocket-ship ride, and thanked her for helping to balance the emotions. I don't know if she completely understood that.

Since Nick and her parents wouldn't be in New York for a couple of weeks, Allie and I agreed to meet in the city in a few to have lunch and just... catch up on things. Any excuse to take a train into New York is fine with me! I'll probably tell her more then. My life history! I can't wait to tell her all about Mark and me, and about Nora, and about the little plan in the back of my head to introduce Matt Kramer and Nick. I know they'll hit it off! And I'll tell her all about Townsend, too. I'll tell her everything.

Debbie was just walking in the front door as I was leaving. We made a little bit of polite small-talk, and she asked me if I had a date. I sorta said "yes." She's smart... I think she knows.

"See ya, Kev!" Dad smiled.

"OK, see you guys... have fun!"

I had put him through a lot in the last 24 hours, that's for sure. But we got through it, and it was cool to see him with a big old smile on his face. He knows both of his sons are OK, and I honestly think thats how he gets from one day to the next. From now on, I'm gonna tell him everything, right from the start.

I gave Dad a quick hug, walked a few steps, then turned around and gave Debbie one too. I dunno, it just seemed like the right thing to do.

Well on the way to Mark's I stopped in Blockbuster just for the hell of it. I looked at the new releases, but figured we weren't going to watch a movie anyway. So I rented "Shrek 2." I thought that would make him laugh... sort-of a little "Kevin and Mark" thing!

"Hey sweetie!" Mark greeted me when I got there.

"What a day, huh?"

"I'll say!"

"Here... I got you a present!" I tossed the "Shrek 2" dvd to him.

"Fucker!!" He laughed. "Come on, let's go downstairs."

It was quiet around the Graham house. Only his dad was home, and it was almost as if we had the entire house to ourselves. He wouldn't bother us. Mark grabbed us a couple of sodas and some crackers and other snacky shit and we hit the couch.

I think we both had one thing on our minds: we wanted to make out all night. All. Night. And never stop.

We did stop a few times, though. Once, after about a fifteen minute lip-lock, I finally took my hands out of his pants and he took his tongue out of my throat. "I called Allie again." I whispered.

"Yeah, what was that all about?? I was dying to know what the fuck was going on."

"Well, her mom and dad and brother are gonna come to New York in a few weeks and we're all gonna get together, like all of us."

"That's cool. I know this means a lot to you, sweetie."

"Yeah..."

Then I dove in on his cock. At some point in the session I had already unzipped his jeans. And mine too, for that matter. I sorta get so involved that I lose track of minor details like that. The pre-cum was really flowing, and I don't have to tell you how delicious his is. I sucked and slurped and he worked his way down to me and did the same. It didn't take long to get every stitch of clothing off. I ended up sitting on Mark's lap, his knees spread apart and our boners sticking straight up. We kissed and played with each others hair and nipples and balls. I couldn't stop and I licked his abs and tummy and all the way down to his sweet shiny knob and shaft.

It didn't take long. I bobbed up and down and played with his balls and within seconds my boy was moaning and whisper-screaming. "Uh uh uh uuuhhhhh... ohhhhhh oh oh oh GOD!!!!!!!!!!!!! Holy shit!!!!!!!! Oh my god oh my god FUUUUUCKKKKKK!!!!!!! FUCK FUCK FUUUUUUUUUCCCKKKKK!!!

Talk about a rocket ship ride! I took my time licking up his love cream. Most of it anyway. He scooped up some of it and mixed it with my precum, using it as lube as he jacked me off. I swear, I had my legs up around his shoulders and I bent backwards down over his thighs, and my head all the way down to his feet. He played with my balls and ass while he jerked, until it was my turn to scream. In that position it was hard to catch my breath. It was wild. It always is.

"Jesus Christ, that was incredible!" I sqeaked out... out of breath, both of us drenched with sweat and cum. "You're right about "make-up sex" being fan-fucking-tastic!!" Everything from our bodies was mixed together. I was all tingly as Mark smeared our stuff all over my balls, stomach and around my hole. I love that, even though it sort-of tickled.

We sorta giggled and chugged our sodas, which tasted really good after that intense sexual workout. I think I prefer "cum and coke" instead of "rum and coke"!

"Should we put in the movie now?" Mark laughed.

"It's your call!" He did, with the sound down low, and we sat side by side, tangled up and naked. Just the way we like it.

I knew I couldn't tell him everything about the police and all. I just knew I couldn't go there... it's was Dad's rule, not mine. But as I sat there, thinking, I knew I had to say something.

"Another coke?"

"Yeah, sure."

Mark quickly threw on his clothes so he could go back upstairs to get our sodas. I sat there thinking, still naked.

When he got back down in the basement, two seconds later, I wanted to talk.

"You OK, sweetie?"

"Yeah... yeah... You know... umm, Mark, I uh, just want you to know that I'm sorry I didn't tell you about Marcie and the liquor and all that bullshit. I mean, I don't want to re-hash all of that, but I want you to know that I'm really, really sorry, and I'll never do it again. I thought I was doing the right thing, too, when I didn't tell you about Townsend also."

"But, Kev, that was different. He asked you not to tell."

"I know, but I should have told you. From now on, I'll tell you everything, I swear. In fact, I'm also not supposed to really talk about when my Dad and I were at the police station today... I mean, you already know about that, and there's really nothing new about that, except that they're glad I came forward about the mirror and all... but Mark... we'll tell each other everything, always... right? We'll never hold anything back, with each other... right?? Never... we'll never hold anything back...

"No."

And that's all he said... then he looked away.

(To be continued...)