I've Always Loved You, Mike

I've Always Loved You Chapter 11 California Dreamin' Author: Eric McQueen (mcqueen.richarderic@gmail.com) Adult Readers, Sexual Situations, Sex

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It was a good thing they were starting to film Monday morning. Having New Year's Eve and New Year's Day in the middle of the week, made Friday Night before to the following Sunday Night one long weekend! Tuesday and Wednesday this time. Nine days! Things like Chet's new bike was kept in the entrance room by the back door...or one of the back doors...it was near the laundry room! This was the West! I bought a house in Texas in a town that bordered on the edge of the West. St. Louis had the gateway West with the arch. Whoever built the house I had now took the song that asked to give "land, lots of land with the stary skies above, don't fence him in" took that very seriously. The rooms in our home in Fort Worth were bigger. Maybe. No, I wasn't going to break out a tape measure. The people that claimed size doesn't matter almost always never had the size in the first place. If it bothered you, there were things that could be done through medication and exercise. Yes, I'm obviously talking about cock size. I knew this guy from high school who was gorgeous! Arian was an athlete and in great shape; until he took his underwear off. His mother had been given a medication that would ease her delivery of him. It wasn't his fault! She miscarried four times before Arian. His mother was unique and named her son unique. It was Diethstylibestrol. You don't know what that is!? Me either. D.E.S. was an estrogen hormone the lab created. They quit using it in the early 1970's. It didn't work tests claimed. She miscarried all before the end of her second trimester. She pleaded with her doctor who claimed several successes with DES, so he gave it to her before they tried the fifth time to get Arian. He and I were friendly and if I was gay back then, I would have been all over him! (Ha! Just because I denied the truth did not mean I didn't really know I was. I just couldn't say it.) I saw what he tried to hide. His penis looked like a preadolescent's penis. I felt badly for him! Yes, I felt sorry for him. His gym locker was on the end next to a wall. My locker was next to his. It was clear what he was doing, he was the first to shower and got out quickly. Our lockers didn't change for two years! He found out I knew the whole truth when I protected him a few times. I would place myself between Arian and anyone else to block their view. There was one time, God's gift to Humanity when it came to...everything from the heart, girls and all things athletic had made a rat tail from his wet towel. You know what those are. Towels wound up tight and thick on one end and the thin end snapped at your leg or ass depending on the skills of the one that made it, could leave a mark. Not to mention hurt like Hell! I attended many a Day Camp with my fellow "Royal Crusaders." The Baptist Temple's equivalent of Scouts. I entered the training for the knights at six as a Page; then a Squire and finally Knighthood as you were about to graduate high school and begin your crusade with the world. We learned about rat tails, and I was taught by Elton, the preacher's other son. He was four years older, but an expert and he taught me to do it fast! Mr. Wonderful snatched Arian's towel while Arian was wearing it. Locker rooms in Gym weren't always roomy and Arian tripped. You could see the disaster about to happen. I took my towel, did the quick fold and spin, snapping the stinging end at Mr. Wonderful. His rat tail was dropped, I tossed Arian's back over him saving him embarrassment. We after that he told me how and why. I assured him I would say nothing. I did give him a present the next week. A book. The Kama Sutra. He was baffled.

"It's about more different ways to have sex," I told him. "We are beings made for intimacy." I opened the book. "It's in Sanskrit and English. Chapter Three, Verse One; begins to tell you how to find the right one. Up through verse thirty-five tell you how to win trust and make yourself irresistible." I leaned closer and spoke more confidently. "Chapter Seven!" I raised a finger and grinned, "Is all about preparing you!" I flipped to the page I remembered. "Preparing your body." The was an illustration of a man with a weight hanging from his penis, not from his scrotum, but secure around his penis. There were cautions for men that were not circumcised about stretching the foreskin and ways to do it. I turned the page. "Even increase the girth!"

It was very embarrassing and then I wondered; why!? It is the one activity all Humans desired to do! So, talk about it! It was very personal, that's why. Guys will boast about sex to each other if it is true or not. Rarely will they talk honestly to each other. I proved myself to Arian when I protected him a few times, which he tested by confiding in me and I didn't let him down. We even became better friends! At school. He was a jock, and I was a musician. So, nothing beyond school. I was not gay yet. Remember? The book I gave him began working!

Oh! By the way, Elton did the worst thing possible. He met and married a Buddhist and converted. He had two little girls now. That spread through Dr. Johnson's Parish like wildfire. Elton was a Buddhist. When someone wanted to fan the flame and make it go further by telling me, I sort of threw water on the flame.

"What kind?" I asked a man spreading the rumor.

"What?" Jim Norris, a young man in his early thirties that had a hard time holding on to his wife as well as his job. He was a plumber and rather good, but...I felt like he saw himself as a Blue-Collar Plumber rubbing elbows with White-Collar Doctors and Lawyers! Some of those doctors and lawyers reminded people like Jim know they were being allowed to. Not my father, but there were a few others that did. "Who cares? He's a Buddhist!"

"He seeks wisdom," I explained. "Buddhism encourages people to ask questions and gain wisdom. Elton has tons of questions and the answers he was getting weren't making sense. It is more than possible for him to still be a Christian and a Buddhist."

"What!?"

"There are Catholic Priests that practice Buddhism," I shrugged. "They shun self-indulgence and gathering of wealth. Buddha is not worshipped; he was a teacher that showed how to cleanse your mind and soul. That sounds good to me. I don't like the answers I'm getting, either."

Was that a rabbit? Kind of. I'll try harder to avoid them. It was more of a little history for better perspective. Where was I? Oh, yeah! The house was a genuinely nice five or six bedrooms (the study could be a sixth bedroom) and four and a half baths. Four thousand square feet at various levels. Whoever the architect was, given a challenge of sloping property and did a fine job. You entered one level, the living room and family room and master bedroom on a level down a few steps...the living room and dining room were close enough to see, the bedroom in another direction. What level you were on you either went down steps or up to the level courtyard and pool/fountain was large enough for Chet and a few adults, but no laps. Or up from the lower levels to the courtyard. Mark had a room to use, Chet had a room, Mike and I had a room and when Avi and Eli get here, they had a room. If we had guests...Mark had other clients and would not be there all the time. We had room! We let Chet pick out the room he would use first. He chose the one that looked out and through thick foliage you saw Westgate Heights and Santa Monica below. He made him feel like he was in a treehouse high above the city.

Inga introduced two men. One blond and one man was Afro-something. Seeing the three of them together, I heard the opening scene for that show in the late sixties that played on television that was broadcast on a Nostalgia Channel while I recovered right after the blood clot. "One black, one white, one blonde." I was looking at a Twenty-First Century Mod Squad! I liked that show! Michael Cole was nice looking, but...I had a thing for Tige Andrews. Captain Greer? I had daddy issues then. My parents were dead, and I needed a parent/fantasy lover at the time. He was perfect! Mark wasn't a daddy. Tige made a great Klingon! I hated him. Mission accomplished!

"This is Andy Jonns," Inga pointed at the blond man who wore a chef's jacket, but his sun-bleached blond hair and tan skin said he was a typical Southern Californian Surfer Dude. He stuck his hand out to us.

"The name Andy is short for Andromeda," He chuckled. "I was named after the galaxy." He shrugged. "Grandma was a hippie."

"She had high aspirations for you!" I grinned in greeting. I saw Mike's puzzled face, "Well, it's bigger than our Milky Way by nearly fifty percent!"

"Oh," Mike nodded as he now understood.

"This is Mr. Tankiso Matela." Inga pointed to the other man. She sought a word, "He is your House Coordinator? Major-domo, or House Stewart?" She asked the man who nodded.

Mr. Tankiso smiled, "That's right. I'm not a maid, butler or cook; I can and will do all those things as needed, but you have family with you. I didn't know what you wanted to do for yourselves." He smiled. I noticed a kind of accent, but...

"I was brought in to prepare all meals and snacks," Andy said. "There will be others that assist us and can reheat and serve what I make. They know what to do."

Inga nodded, "There will be others you will meet, but with your schedule, Mr. Richards," she smiled, "we didn't know."

Mark stepped forward, "You'll be busy." He said to me. "You will be in the movie because of your music. The backers really want you in that movie. You aren't some young starlet they hope will do well. You are a star with a proven track record of booming success and caught the world's attention. A new recording is racing to the top; you just did a show seen by millions around the world. The iron is hot, and we are striking." He waved at the three. "They are providing this level of service to ease your mind. Mike and Chet will be well taken care of." He pointed with his thumb at Andy, "I told Mr. Galaxy here that you like organic, unprocessed foods. You were the cook."

I nodded, "Mike can cook and does when I'm performing. I try to bulk up before a long engagement. I lose weight with my dance routines."

"We also have Avi and Eli coming," Chet informed. "They're Jewish and eat a Kosher diet." He looked at Mr. Tankiso. "You sound like my friend Jenny. Are you from South Africa, Mr. Tankiso?"

His eyes widened a little, but he smiled. "I lived there a while after we left Lesotho..."

"Where?" Chet asked puzzled.

Tankiso chuckled, "It's a mountainous country in the middle of South Africa. My parents took my sister and me out of the capital city of Maseru and fled when there was some trouble there. I came from South Africa to British Columbia. I'm Canadian now."

That made sense. He was African. He was a handsome man from Africa. The immigration policies between those countries that didn't fight the British Empire were a lot easier. Actors and Entertainment Industry People crossed the border more freely up there. I did shows in Vancouver, Quebec, and British Columbia. We're all North Americans. Yes, the backers for this movie wanted me happy. The potential for making a lot of money was the real attraction. And why is it, something you've worked hard to achieve; when it starts, we can't see it? Or are surprised by it? The promotors heard a bank vault open, not just a cash register. This was going to be a big vault.

I always tried to make music that people could relate to. A message would get through to them and they would understand what it meant on a personal level. Not just about the gay issue. We all did it with everything, but mostly, sex. I really hated false humility. I wouldn't ever say "it was nothing." It was something and took extremely hard work!! Lost sleep, having to work out phrases and the tunes to go with it...it was like you are possessed! You don't eat. I learned music to be able to do it! Cords, scales, keys, arpeggios (cords that are broken into a sequence of notes and can span different octaves.). You learn a whole new language all about sound. You could do it by ear, but...I wanted people to be able to reproduce my music. I learned the language so they could do that. I promised to truly be grateful to the fans. They allowed me to do this.

"I can make anything Kosher, Vegan or use any restriction to a diet from gluten free to diabetic restrictions," Andy smiled and bounced once. "I'm a studio chef. Mr. Hill informed me what things you eat, so tonight I made Cuban Seabass." Andy shook his head, "You won't go hungry."

"Great!" Chet looked at Mike and me. "I'm starved!"

Mike pulled Chet over to him and put his arm around Chet's neck from behind, "It's an ongoing motto with this one." He griped with a smile on his face.

"We've hit bottom a few times," I said to Mike.

Mike nodded, "For an hour maybe."

"Naturally," Tankiso smiled. "He's growing!" He looked at Chet, "You're what? Eighteen or nineteen?"

"I'm eight!" Chet said happily, he knew Tankiso was teasing him.

"Nooo!" Tankiso said in exaggerated shock. I liked them! Inga, too!

Tankiso and Andy had abilities that were still propelling them skyward. Their talents were honed and improved. Andy was in his early forties. The sun-bleached forehead bangs rested on bronzed-brown skin. He was a happy man! Time may have passed for Andy, but I just knew he looked almost the same twenty years earlier. Andy loved the sun and the outer corners of his eyes showed creases, but he wasn't ugly at all! Blond, but not ugly. Tankiso was also in his forties and slender. I would find out that when he worked with some biggies, he ran their homes while the celebrity was working often on location. There were bills to be paid like electricity and gas, house payments, groceries...he did all that. And vacuumed, dusted and anything needed. You didn't have a butler pay your utilities. He did. He told any maid, or gardener what to do. He coordinated the house. They worked for the studios, so went to whomever needed coordinating. This time, it was us! Inga was my driver!? I admit, we did arrive safely. New York City and L.A. traffic were supposed to be killer. Especially I5 and I10 (the Santa Monica Freeway).

We spent that evening getting things in places we would remember and could find it quickly if needed.

Before Chet fainted from a lack of food, he got to eat. Andy was a damned fine Chef. He went to the Escoffier Culinary School in Paris. You didn't choose to go and apply. No. Word spread about a very good chef and someone from Escoffier visited a few times and then they would offer the chef a chance to go to Escoffier. It wasn't a big school. Usually, there were only ten students who went the same year. It was as if graduating from any culinary school you graduated with a bachelor's degree in the culinary arts. Graduating from Le Cordon Bleu you had a master's degree. Graduates of Escoffier gave you a doctorate's degree. A PhD at cooking!? He was a genius! I knew there were different chefs even in the same kitchen, Executive Chef or Chef de Cuisine, Sous Chef who assisted the Executive Chef, Senior Chef and Station Chefs. Why did I know this? I thought about taking a course to become a chef. I could get a bachelor's degree in two to three years. There was a master's level of study that was five and a Doctorate's in five to six years of study. Hear me. The Doctorate's level of study was not so much about food. Restaurants are businesses. You need to stay competitive, nutrition, sanitation, Human Resources, Management, and other topics that had little to do with actually cooking. If there was, Andy had that degree from Escoffier. They took what he did well and made it even better!! Example: the Cuban Seabass was tender meat and it seemed to have been flash-fried! It was hot and tender meat inside and lightly cooked, quickly fried outer skin or batter that crunched very lightly and seasoned so well with...I don't know! Cocktail or tartar sauce wasn't needed, but there was a buttery sherry cream sauce that had a slight mustard-like taste...orgasm for the mouth! That one meal and I wondered how we could take him home after the movie was finished! The way to a man's heart is through his stomach? You've heard that, I'm sure. I wanted Mike and I to marry Andy. Give up Mike? No way, but we could both marry Andy. I looked at both of their left hands and neither had rings, but that didn't mean anything. They had two very different personalities. Andy was a happy man that seemed open and friendly. Approachable. Tankiso was content but had a more strict and disciplined personality. He had a sense of humor, but it was more stoic. Later, it could be hours later before I realized he had told a joke. The common ground we shared and the why was; we were happy. We just were. Life threw things at us that could make us be unhappy and depressed, but we pressed on and were happy. We saw things in a positive light. Honestly, I didn't know how to be anything else.

Those in the industry had a reputation for ruining lives. They did with Mickie Rooney and Judy Garland.

It wasn't that late for people on the West Coast, but those of us from Central Time and the Eastern Standard Time it was late. Chet fell asleep at about ten in the evening. Mike and I got ready for bed in the master bedroom on the upper level. He opened the bedroom door.

"I'm sure Chet will be fine," Mike said confessed to me, "I just don't want him to wake up in a new place and get scared."

I nodded, "I don't guess Chet's ever experienced a tremor or quake."

"No," Mike shrugged. "Hurricanes we know, earthquakes? Not so much."

"They claim it wasn't a big deal," I smiled. "There was property damage at the house we were supposed to use." I looked at him at the other side of the bed and grinned. "Do you have your phone on you?"

Mike was standing in his boxers with a puzzled expression, "You wanna call someone now?"

I shook my head and pointed to him on the other side, "No, but you are way over there and I'm over here. You might need something." I waved at the bed. "This is a California King-size bed. It will take a few minutes to get to each other." I grinned. "It would be easier to call first."

Mike smirked and tossed one of the two huge pillows on his side at me, "Oh, ha, ha." He said sarcastically, "But this is California, and it is a king-sized bed." He pointed at me, "You start over there and I'll meet you in the middle."

"I bring up the tremor because there are quakes all the time," I shrugged. "There will probably be more while we're here. We need to get him ready."

"Mark's down there," Mike shrugged, "We'll respond quickly, but he's near Chet."

I smiled getting in the bed and crawling over toward Mike, "Thanks, Mike."

Mike's face scrunched a bit, "What are you thanking me for?"

"Your support," I said. "Without you, Mark and some supportive fans in Texas...I couldn't do this." I put my arms around his neck and pulled him closer. "But mostly, you. Mark is doing a job." I saw Mike was going to say something, so I stopped him by placing a finger over his mouth. "No, it's true. He saw and heard me, saw money making potential and began working then. He made it personal, but he does a damned good job! I wouldn't have made it without him. I still love him." I looked directly in Mike's eyes. "I am in love with you! Chet adores him! I am thrilled you two get along so well. He's a great uncle for Chet! And Mark is part of a family for the first time."

Mike nodded, "Sure, I love him, too."

"This town," I said, "this industry is known for destroying lives. Now, we are going to repair damage done. Race, ethnicity and sexuality were shunned and hidden, but not now! The song California Dreamin' will have a positive meaning." I looked at the lamps that were still on beside the bed. "Now, we have to crawl over to turn the lights off!?"

Mike grabbed me firmer, "No." He smiled held what looked like an embedded remote control on the headboard. "You don't." He pressed a button, and the room went dark.

I slept well but woke up alone, or so I thought. I was in a warm spot and didn't want to find out if that was truth. I heard Mike come back to bed and crawl over toward me.

"Good..." he began, but I raised my hand and stopped him.

"Don't break the spell!" I muttered.

I didn't need to see his face to know his confused expression.

"What are you talking about?"

"That spell you're in that says as long as you remain perfectly still," I started to explain. "You can stay content for the rest of your life in one place if you don't move."

"What!?"

Then I felt it, "Too late." I grumbled and threw the covers away from me. "It's starting. First, I have to pee...I'll try to hang on to the comforting feeling of going to sleep, but the waking process has started."

Mike chuckled, "That's the reason I couldn't say good morning?"

"Yes."

The weather outside was gray and cool out. Not what people associated with Southern California.

Mark looked up from the counter where he had a couple of muffins on a plate and a cup of coffee. The laptop computer was open as he was reading messages. "Good morning!"

"'Mornin'," Mike said in a tone just above a grumble. "Coffee." He saw Mark point to a large steaming pot of dark brown liquid. "I'll give the good part after a cup or two."

"Understood," Mark chuckled. He grinned as a young woman came in and presented me with a tall, frosted mug. She was tiny at maybe five feet and one hundred pounds. She wore a chef's jacket and wore a cloth head covering, but I saw a few dark hairs sticking out. She was in her early twenties, "This is Cindy. Andy sent her for serving us breakfast and lunch. Lunch we'll probably get out. Andy will be here this evening."

"I was told you like a cold vanilla latte," Cindy smiled and held the mug to me.

"I do!" I grinned taking the frosted mug. "I just like it," I jutted my head at Mike's expression as he swallowed his precious coffee. "He's chemically dependent."

Cindy nodded and chuckled, "I'll make sure a fresh pot is always available." She started to walk away, but stopped and looked at me, "I begged to get this assignment. I love your shows and music, Mr. Richards."

I nodded, "Thank you." I said with a slight bow.

"I know you will begin Monday morning working hard," Mark began.

"Okay," I said.

Mark chuckled again, "The producers and writers invited you and Mike to a party tomorrow night."

"Sure," I nodded. "We all go." I said pointing to Mark and Mike.

Chet came in and slid on to a stool next to Mark, "Good morning!"

"Less cheerful please," Mike said pouring more coffee. "I need at least another cup before I can do cheerful." He looked outside as Cindy came in with some steaming pancakes. "Is it supposed to be like this all day?" He asked her and pointed out the window.

Cindy smiled putting some pancakes on a plate and giving them to Chet, "No, it warms up after lunch. It will be about seventy degrees."

"They have that sidewalk down the beach in Santa Monica?" Mike asked. "Chet can ride his new bike!"

"Sure," Cindy nodded. "It goes down Santa Monica's Beach and Venice beach. At the pier they offer bikes for rent. You can all ride." She held the plate up she was carrying, "Can I interest you in pancakes? They're buttermilk and hot off the griddle."

"That sounds great!" I said sitting next to Mark and asked him. "How long has it been since you rode a bike?"

Mark's eyes widened and his eyebrows rose as he thought, "It's been a while."

Mike chuckled, "They say you never forget how to ride. After teaching Chet to ride, I would ride with him. So, I'm good."

"I rode in high school and college," I said as bacon was added to my plate. "My career in music was just beginning and I needed to be in shape for my fans." I shrugged, "I found other ways, though. A good bike ride takes a lot of time away from my piano." I bit a little of the thick bacon. It was thicker than most slices of bacon, "Ooh! Is this maple I taste?" I smiled as Cindy nodded. "I like it!!"

We used the vehicle left for us to use. It was a new Bronco, and it had a bike rack. It was cool outside now, so we put on windbreakers. This was Southern California and had a reputation of being warm and sunny. It would be again, it was just going to take a few more hours. The Santa Monica Pier was a popular site with an amusement park with a Ferris Wheel, carousel, and roller coaster. There were pavilion games and a game arcade and shops. The pier was an icon and drew many people to it. People fished from it. There were people who walked on the beach or rode bikes on the cement walkway that ran parallel with the beach. Or ran! Not many people lay on the beach, but they sat enjoying the view with friends or just listened to the surf. It was relaxing. The amusement park didn't have the biggest rollercoaster or Ferris Wheel, but Chet wanted to go on them. It was sort of a rule you had to ride them at least once if for no other reason than to say you did! Mike and I did the ball cap and sunglasses thing again. Just in case.

Chet loved his new Gauntlet bike. Bright red! There were the matching red elbow pads, knee pads and red helmet! Even better was the bike would grow with Chet from twenty inches to twenty-four inches, but it was a good bike! As tall as Mike was, Chet would shoot up quickly. Mike said he did a lot of growing between twelve and eighteen, then a late spurt about twenty-one and twenty-three.

It was amusing to watch Mark try to remember how to ride. He grimaced when I handed him a helmet and pads for the elbows and knees. He started to protest but saw me putting a helmet on.

"Teach by example," I pointed at Mike who was putting his knee pads on, "Uncle Mark."

He took the pads and grumbled, "The days where I just grabbed my bike and took off are gone."

"Yep," I agreed. It was nice to see him looking less like the hard, cold hand of justice and more like a guy! He still litigated in court. Someone was always trying to do something they weren't supposed to in the industry. Mark was on it. One guy swore I plagiarized a couple of songs from his life. It took a single afternoon to kill that lawsuit. Mark was ripping him to shreds! This man and my life had some similarities, but not one song had the remotest similar aspects in my music and his...he wasn't even close. I could talk about where every facet came from musically. The other advantage was my computer that I used to compose. I had files that showed the evolution of my songs. The man with the lawsuit did not. I told him that I understood, but it wasn't his life I wrote about, but my own. Mark didn't understand why I didn't press it further and countersue.

"Because," I grinned. "He proved I was successful!" I looked at Mark's confused face. "I wanted to write music everyone can relate to." I waved at the man leaving the courtroom. "He related so well, he thought I wrote about him!" I walked over to the man who recoiled a little as I approached him. "I will probably hug you, but I'd never hurt you. For what happened in our past, I am so sorry. It was my life I sang about. You have a story to tell." I smiled, "tell it! Competition is a good driving source. It makes us work harder. Keep it up! Use the events to create something that will make people think, cry, laugh, or scream! That's art! I look forward to seeing what you do!" I did hug him and then walked away.

Mark's sharp suits made people wary of him. Now he wore a grey sweatshirt that said Yale and he had on blue jeans. We rented three nice adult bicycles and I had to bite the inside of my mouth to keep from laughing as he started off a little wobblily, but those long unused neural connections were dusted off and he quickly rode efficiently again.

The transformation Mark had been going through was all positive! No one was forcing him to change, but some barriers that were around him were just falling away. Since Mike came back in my life, Mark no longer was a cheating lover who was trying to win me back. He was my manager and promoter who was making a good amount of money working for me. It was not for any unselfish reasons he stayed. My marrying Mike told him he and I were done. I never asked him to leave. Yes, again, I still loved Mark and always would. The longer I knew Mark, the more I saw he was compelled to have sex. It was an addiction he developed over the years as compensation for...something. I said it before, he liked sex. Male and female partners and many weren't what I thought was pretty or attractive. No, I am no therapist, but those endorphins released a change in brain chemistry. That feeling could become a habit. He swore he loved me, and I believed him. But this promiscuous behavior had to stop. I wasn't going to sleep with Mark and all of his many partners and one-night stands. I believed he tried. Without help, he couldn't be trusted. He'd pass any lie detector test because he wanted to change and even believed he could change. He didn't have any dangerous habits like smoking or drinking. That aged you prematurely. He had an occasional drink, but I almost never knew him to get drunk! He didn't use drugs recreationally, or even take so much as an aspirin. He never spoke about his family. Never mentioned a father, mother, or siblings. Not even any aunts, uncles, or grandparents. I had a feeling that was the catalyst. The trigger for his need was there. That was the reason he responded so well to having us, Mike, Chet, Dad Ray, Dad Frank, Della, Avi, Eli and me as "family." Mike and I knew his past and didn't care! He was family. We worried about him; his health, wellness and happiness were important to us. I could ask him about it, but he needed to trust Mike and me. He knew about Mike's past as a hustler and prostitute. I believed Mark would tell us soon. The previous weekend was revealing. He did not really leave our side, or my side, long. That didn't mean he didn't have sex with someone, but when could he have to had time to do it!? Now with his hair combed, but a little disarray he looked younger. I saw he got admiring looks from the others on the pier and on the beach. He was in shape and a damned fine-looking man. Naturally, he got looks. What pleased me was; he didn't look back.

This would be one of the last days of freedom, because of Monday's schedule and the whole week afterwards. I suggested we go to Disneyland the upcoming Sunday. The party was the following night. The park would close at nine in the evening, but it would tire Chet out.

Chet raced all of us down the sidewalk. Mark finally slowed down near some food trucks and some tables and some chairs where he got off the bike and held up the letter T with his hands, "Time out!"

"Uncle Maark," Chet whined Mark's name longer as every kid knew to do. "Why are you stopping!?"

"Because I'm not eight!" Mark groused as he took his helmet off. "No wonder you're always hungry. You burn everything off!" He looked at Chet, "Aren't you hungry? It's past lunch!"

"Where are we going to eat?" Chet asked.

Mike stopped and took his helmet off, "Right there." He pointed over his shoulder at one of the food trucks. "The Casa Martin." There were five trucks offered pretty much everything from burgers to pizza to sushi.

"Why there?" I asked.

"They've consistently had a line for three hours," Mike grinned, "That one had many of whom are Latino."

"The stamp of approval from those that would know!" Mark nodded. "I'm game. What do you guys want?"

Mike shook his head, "No, I'll order."

We ordered from the menu on the side of the truck. The mood was relaxed. Mike and I were known by many and yes, I was the reason. We kept the caps and sunglasses on to avoid problems. No. Not everyone was a fan. I knew that but having just performed in Time Square...we didn't take any chances.

People around the United States were the same. It was exposure that was the difference. Two guys holding hands walking down the street in Charleston would attract attention. Even in Fort Worth, you would get a glance, but here!? We were a dime a dozen. I am sorry, but women didn't get the reactions guys got. Only if a girl kisses a girl longer than necessary did it raise any attention. Ladies could hold hands. No problem. Even in World War 2, most of those arrested for violations to Paragraph 175, laws that govern sexual behaviors, especially in the 1930s. Over one hundred thousand men were charged and not quite a tenth of women. In England, the crime was Buggery. Men were arrested and locked away whether they were guilty or not! What was the crime!? If two adults agree to something and are willing to do it. Who cared!? Straights have a hard time with rape in general. Did he or she say yes or no? That was the real tough question.

You couldn't yell "fag" here! No one would know where to look!! We were everywhere! And no one cared! It was an old joke. Sad really. California was the Granola State. Packed with fruits, nuts, and flakes. That wasn't much of an insult! It wasn't like every guy held another guys' hand. There were the traditional couples, but...you couldn't really tell. People were with people! How and why wasn't important. How many were we!? In this city, the state, the country...the world?

Mike and Chet came back as Chet's mind had been blown, "But he spoke Spanish!"

Mike nodded, "He did, but he spoke a sort of Spanglish that changed from the Spanish his grandparents or great grandparents spoke before." He tried to explain more. "My Spanish is sort of a Caribbean Spanish from Cuba, but there are so many Cuban Americans in Miami there it changed. We changed Spanish in Florida over the decades." He smiled, "Like, saying a di os, instead of a the os."

"Oh," Chet nodded.

"We understood each other," Mike defended. "You know, like we say Hey, some say Hello, or Hi and some say Howdy." He shrugged. "It's the same greeting." He handed a cardboard bowl-plate in front of Mark.

Chet put one in front of me but looked at me and backed away a little, "It's happening again, Dad. PopE's being inspired."

Mike went with it, "That's okay, son." Mike said dramatically in a cautious way. "Just put his burrito in front of him, he'll get hungry and come back to us."

I rolled my eyes, "And aren't you grateful it happens?" I took the steaming paper bowl from Chet, "Thank you." I sniffed the steam and smiled. "It smells great! Now, to see if this truly is a Burrito de Pollo Picante!" I sliced it open and let some steam escape. "It wasn't an inspirational idea that had anything to do with music that hit me." I gave a shrugging nod. "Not directly." I saw three confused faces staring at me. "I was thinking," raised a fork with some steaming chicken and blew on it. "The whole reason we got Grandpa Ray and Grandpa Frank is from my hope of using Ray's song, Don't Tell Me Who To Love. We might show parts of the video he had recorded. I was thinking people need to understand..." I bit the chicken off my fork and had to grab my tea that was just put down, "Oooh! Hot, hot, hot!!" I drank quickly, "Not the picante caliente hot, but termal caliente!"

Mike chuckled sitting next to me, "Your first clue was maybe the steam?" He suggested with a smile. "It just came off the griddle!"

I glared at him but ignored his comment. "I love Tex-mex!" I explained to Chet only, so it seemed. The other two could hear. "Spicy food is fine for me if I prepare. I didn't just now. That was my fault. Not heat just to be hot, but flavor that bites me back. There are just too hot, and that's all it has. I will attempt to taste this again in a moment." I smirked at Mike and Mark. "And I didn't bring the inspiration up!" Then I said loud, "Anyway..." and my voice went back to normal. "I was looking at this crowd! I remembered a music video by ELO and..."

"Who!?" Chet asked.

I closed my eyes and sighed forcing patience on my face, "Because you are so young," I began solemnly, "your ignorance is excused," I raised a finger in front of his happy face. I was teasing him. "This time, but not after this. The Electric Light Orchestra, ELO goes down in history as one of the finest groups...ever. I thought of one song now, All Over The World." To get them on the same page as I was and ready to understand what I say, I had to think. "There isn't a Gay Pride Day for the world, is there?"

Mark frowned, "I don't think there is a single day around the world."

Mike shook his head, "No, I remember there is a Global Gay Pride. It's been around, but the IGLTA has been trying to get the countries together. There are so many events scheduled throughout the world. Because of the raid in New York's Stonewall Inn in Greenwich Village in June 1969, most have their parades in June."

"There was even a Gay Pride Parade in India," Mark nodded. "But that was in November."

"But they had one!" I nodded pointing that out, "They are a severely repressed country, but they have the only openly gay prince in the world."

"What's the inspiration?" Mike asked.

"There has to be filmed evidence around," I began. "All over the world, in many countries. Groups of thousands gathering with the Eiffel Tower, Big Ben, what was Red Square in Moscow, Rio, Sydney...all these cities around the world have us in them! ELO sang of a party around the world! Let's show everybody!"

"Canada's Prime Minister marched with us in Ottawa," Mark grinned and then thought. "Or was that Toronto?"

"Who cares? He marched and that's even better!! He showed support! High profile support." I said enthusiastically. "The Pride March in New York is huge!! Major companies around the world know to support us." I shook my head, "We should not let people push us into the dark again! Airlines, Hotel Chains, Banks...Disney! They all support us and back us using big names! We'll show them just how big we are!" I pulled Mike to me and kissed him hard. "We are everywhere!!"

Mike grinned, "Okay, sure they've seen it before."

"So?" I shot back, "They'll see it again!" I pointed at Mike, "Do you know there are websites dedicated to showing men kissing men! It's not porn! Just sites to get people used to seeing men kiss men in love!"

"And women kissing women?" Mark grinned.

"I'm sure!" I shrugged and threw my hands out in exasperation. "People kiss people other people see as wrong or sick, but it's love!"

"A website people like Manny, Wynona and all those at the Baptist Temple would never see," Mike grumbled.

I grabbed Mike's shoulder and shook it, "But everyone around them will! Interest will be piqued by some that will see it and Dr. Johnson loses more credibility! He can keep saying the Earth is flat, but the entire world is seeing its round! He will show how stupid he really is by ignoring the truth."

"No arguments from me," Mike chuckled. He looked at Mark, "Will we be violating anyone's rights showing the news footage again?"

"Not really," Mark shook his head. "The people marching in the parades want to be seen at the parades and show support." He shrugged, "We'll just be giving them a wider audience." Then he sat back a bit, "And when are you doing this!? You'll be busy!"

"I'll do it," Mike smiled as he thought. He looked at Mark and me, "I will keep up with my school schedule and Chet's, but we'll be here a month, so I have time." He looked at me. "You'll be making that movie and," he looked at Mark and moved his head back a little, "you'll be doing whatever it is you do." Mike dodged the plastic spoon thrown at him by Mark. "I'll have time. Then you can go over the footage when I get it."

Nodding again, I said, "We have time!" I put my hand on Chet's shoulder. I looked at Mark. "The movie will probably be released in late Spring. June. All of the editing and cuts made, the premier, Mike and I have the wedding for the fans to plan..." I looked at Chet. "You know your dad and I married when we did to move things along legally so there would be no question about us being a family, right?" Chet nodded at me. "Good," I smiled and looked at Mike. "Why not have the public wedding in June? During the Pride Month? Release the movie and the video at the same time!!"

Mike chuckled and shrugged, "Why not? I'm surprised the International L.G.B.T.Q. haven't tried to get you with them sooner."

"They have," Mark shrugged and spoke.

"What!?" I almost shouted.

Mark held a hand up and ducked a little as Mike and I stared at him in shock. "You were busy!!" He explained, "Right before the New Year's Eve event! You had no free time." His hands went out helpless. "Someone named Toni Reckley called, she and John Tanzella wanted to have you join them for something."

"Because of the New Year's Eve event?" I asked.

"Please," Mark rolled his eyes as he shot that down. "You haven't kept up with current events in the LGBT world. You are making a movie that will be a blockbuster when it opens. You were covered in the Advocate, Pinknews, Newnownext, Queerly, OutSpeaking...Newsweek, USAToday..." Mark said smiling more, "People are surprised by your sudden skyrocket rise and it's unbelievable!" He pointed at me. "You...are hot. Hell, the plot is practically known already! This isn't going to be a cheesy porn film in disguise. This is a positive movie about two people who fall in love! Sure, there are groups that want on that bandwagon!" He pointed at Mike. "I know they have footage of the many parades in many countries. They will be more than willing to help."

"When were you going to tell me?" I demanded.

"When you take a breath!" Mark stated. "Della has been fielding many of those calls." Then he sat back a little, "Do you know how many proposals you get? Or offers to convert you by women offering mind blowing sex? People call to get interviews and guest appearances? Especially, in the last few months!?" He was mostly kidding, but he was sounding a little testy now. "And they didn't really say what they wanted you to do. How am I supposed to know?"

"I'll grant you that," I chuckled.

Mark nodded, "And you should. I don't keep things from you."

I nodded feeling a little guilty, "I know." I reached over Mike and touched Mark's arm. "Sorry."

"Do you know how many messages you get in a week?" Mark almost demanded. "Especially after New Year's Eve. Della had me hire a couple of people to help her to handle the influx of emails. There is even an official website for you that has been revamped to give dates of shows and concerts around the world! Pictures to download!" He grinned. "That is the reason you attracted this International group's attention. You are global." He was getting excited again as he did in the past. "The bigger you get; the more help will be needed."

"Where are they headquartered?" Mike asked.

Mark grinned, "Fort Lauderdale."

My eyes widened, "Florida!?"

"Is there another?" Mark smiled more. "They have offices in other countries. London, England; Paris, France; Madrid, Spain; Rio de Janeiro and Sao Paulo, Brazil; Cape Town, South Africa..."

I nodded waving him down, "Got it. We're everywhere. I know."

Mark smiled, "But their CEO and officers are in Fort Lauderdale."

I looked at Mike and touched his hand. I removed the humor from my face, "It's up to you. You know I'm committed to you. They might be able to provide a forum if you wanted to tell everyone what happened to you. It wasn't your fault and then you needed to survive..." I saw the gravity of what I said reflect on his face. "Or we don't do it at all!" I said in a hurry.

"I know," Mike said sadly. "I just held it secret so long..."

Mark looked compassionately at Mike. "I could join you." He shrugged reluctantly. "There are things you both don't know about my own past." He laughed a humorless laugh. "No one does. I have things in my past, but mine was my father and uncle." He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "We both need to tell about it before it comes out...and it will soon."

"Okay," I said quietly.

"When I joined the marines, I went in as Mark Hill." Mark confessed. "I really am Marko Hanaman. My father was born in Rijeka, Croatia."

I knew where the country was on the east coast of the Adriatic Sea. Just more than a hundred miles west across that sea was Italy. I knew my geography. No one could predict how DNA would play out in a person the way you think it will. Croatia was a country with many people from the Italian Mediterranean. Croats were people and there were some handsome men who were Croats. I was the lover to one for years! I didn't know he was.

"My mother was from Northern Italy." Mark said and he shrugged a laugh. "She was born in Italy, but really she, like most there, are German."

I waited for him to finish, but...after a minute, I ventured a question, "And by telling us, what do you fear will happen?" It had to be bad. For Mark, it was too horrible to tell anyone.

Mark couldn't look at me. He shrugged, "You'll know who I am."

I chuckled softly, "It's too late for that, Mark...or Marko. Who you are is told by what you do. No matter the name you go by, you are a man afraid to commit, you cheated on me..." I saw his face become sadder. "And I forgave you. Remember? You knew I was in love with Mike from the beginning. The whole world knew! I begged you to stay, remember that? I still love you. I am selfish. I didn't want to lose you, but I was in love with Mike. I know you are honest, and I trust you like almost no one else. You're a good man. You just got lost somewhere."

"Whatever crime I committed in the past," Mike said. "Whatever happened in your past, like me; there had to be a reason even if it was one you saw as a crime with only one way out." He smiled at Mark. "I trust you." He smiled at Chet. "Chet trusts you. You are a good man."

"When you're ready," I smiled. "I think we know you well enough. You need to trust Mike and me." I looked down at my burrito that was steaming less now. "Now, I'll try this again." I ate another bite of the chicken. It was still warm and, "¡Esto es delicioso! Verdaderamente maravilloso!" My head shook as I enjoyed the wonderful flavors.

Chet smiled mischievously, "I think it's delicious and wonderful, too."

I smiled at Chet and shook him gently by the shoulder, "¡Muy bien! Your Spanish is getting so good!!"

"Of course, it is!" Mike chuckled, "He is Cuban!"

We had a nice lunch and of course, the humor returned, but with a slight knowledge of something bigger about to happen. Everyone I befriended had a sense of humor. Even Tankiso Matela had sense of humor, it was the delivery you had to get used to. Andy Jonns was just a happy man. Andy, dressed in his white chef jacket and tall hat, was there when we got home.

"I hope you didn't spoil your dinner," Andy said as he worked in the kitchen.

Mike looked confused and asked convincingly, "Spoiling dinner? Is that even possible?"

Mark looked over Andy's shoulder, "Whatcha makin'?"

"Crabmeat stuffed lobster tails," Andy answered Mark's question and looked at Mike. "And yes, you can ruin your dinner."

I shook my head at Andy, "You know burgers and fries would be okay. Even hot dogs! You don't have to be all fancy all the time."

Tankiso, dressed in black suit pants, a white shirt with a black tie and a black suit vest came in behind, him seeming to pass by. He was carrying something in a bottle and held a cloth, "I'm afraid he has to. It's job security." He said solemnly.

"And for you, too," Andy shot back. He pointed at the bottle Tankiso was carrying. "That's your job security. It's not Comet or 409!"

Tankiso raised the bottle, "It is! I willingly admit it." He said seriously. "If anyone could do what we do; why hire us?" He sloshed the liquid in the bottle around. "This is better than Comet or 409..." he shrugged, "Or any other cleanser and deodorizer available on the market. I have different formulas for different jobs. I have one for pet or even human waste, to spilled beer, mold and mildew...I can make it shine or get rid of the odor. It's biodegradable and safe. I use ingredients like baking soda, hydrogen peroxide or whatever, add lemon oils...I can't easily be replaced. We work wonders."

His delivery was flawless, except for the extra glimmer in his eyes. He knew he was good at what he did. There was nothing wrong with that confidence. I grinned as I pointed at his bottle of...whatever, "So, the concoctions are the reason the sheets smelled so good?"

"My own recipe and deodorizers," Tankiso nodded. "Citrus oils added in the dryer." He looked at me carefully. "Did you mind that? I can do unscented."

"I liked it!" Chet said quickly. "It smelled really good!"

Mike brought Chet closer, "See, Tank? You've got the eight-year-old seal of approval. You're safe."

Tankiso's face said he was kidding, but he said it almost flippant, "I was so worried." He drolled and walked on.

Yes, we were going to be just fine here.

It was later after dinner and Chet had told us his legs told him to go to bed. Remember? It was cooling off, but there was a firepit that was in the center of a conversation area in the courtyard and a fire gave enough warmth to be comfortable. Mark came slowly out.

"Can I interest anyone in a bourbon?" Mark asked but was holding two extra glasses of bourbon on a tray. He wasn't giving us a real choice.

"You think we'll need one?" Mike asked.

Mark shrugged, "Maybe not, but I'll feel better if you do." He held the tray down for us. "Please?"

He sighed and sat down, "My parents came to the United States and had me here. I was their anchor baby." Meaning, whether he was Italian by his mother's country of birth or his father's birth in Croatia, because Mark was born in the United States of America, he was an American citizen. His parents were allowed to stay and get jobs to provide for Mark. "Mom died when I was three." He shrugged, "I don't really remember her much. We lived in Dayton. I was born there."

Neither Mike nor I made a sound as Mark was pulling this from somewhere deep within himself. Mike and I had learned to do that with each other and really listen, so we did it with Mark.

"My father was Borislav Hanaman," Mark explained and began to shake. "He tried so hard." He admitted with a tear. "I know he loved me. He did!" He said loud to remind himself rather than tell us. "He raised me alone! There were other families in the apartment building, one lady had four kids, but kept me while my father was at work. Then he started drinking more..." Mark looked at us. "He never beat me! Never!" He said urgently for us to know that at the very beginning. "I never saw him much." He shuttered, "Except when he drank." He took the glass he had and swallowed quickly, "Those nights when he was drunk, he loved me. Meaning he made love to me."

"How old were you?" Mike asked quietly.

"Nine or ten," Mark shrugged. "But he loved me." He said urgently. "He told me; and said it over and over again how much I reminded him of Mom, and he loved her so much and this way, he could love her, too. When he was sober, he almost never touched me. He said almost nothing to me." He laughed, "But how could I tell him I liked it?" He reached over and took my almost full glass and threw that one back. He rose and went in and got the bottle of bourbon and poured me another. And of course, he poured another one for himself and set the bottle on the courtyard floor. He kept it nearby just in case more was needed. "When he did, he was loving, kind, tender and he made me know he loved me."

The terrain through human sexuality was hard to navigate. Clearly this was incest, but Mark took it in a positive way. He had been scarred by it. This sort of thing happened all the time! It was taboo! Even for those in the LGBT it was forbidden! Yet, there were websites, porn that put things like "step" in front of father. A man married a parent with a child who was not his but had sex with that child. It lessened the blow? Was it cheating on the mother? Or was she in the picture? Or was he cheating on the dad in the picture? Did the dad not care or even mind? There were some videos that that really were father and son and even brothers! One couple were identical twins! Admit it! You've seen some odd things on the internet. That didn't make it alright! Mostly, it was for money! Mark wasn't traumatized. He liked it. Was that the problem? "You mentioned earlier an Uncle."

Mark nodded, "Yeah, here's where it gets weird."

Here's where it gets weird!? I thought. How did it become even more weird?

"Dad has a brother. Deneil," Mark said as a Croat would and shrugged. "They have the same father, but different mothers and Deneil is twelve years younger. He came to visit when I was eleven." He laughed, "And he stayed. Uncle Deneil convinced the Americans he needed to help his brother with me." Mark shrugged. "He and I got along great! The Hanamans were good looking men. My Dad was and my Uncle, too." He laughed. "Here's where it gets weird." He shrugged. "I fell in love with my Uncle Deneil. He was in his twenties, brave, strong and I worshipped him." Mark shrugged. "He was there! When I came home from school when I was sick from flu or a cold...he was there!" He raised his finger with the hand holding his glass. "What happened...he fell in love with me!!"

Okay, this was weird. How could I judge this? It was taboo! Mark was doing all the judging just fine. I wasn't a psychiatrist, or psychologist, or even a student of psychology. My father was and I read in one of his psychiatric diagnostic books about Genetic Attraction. It is real! It is incest. "But you never saw him before." I clarified.

"I only knew his name," Mark nodded, "We never met before. Not even a photograph until he showed up."

It didn't really matter, but it explained a lot more. I nodded, "G. S. A. Genetic Sexual Attraction. I read about it."

Mike looked at me surprised. "You have!? About a love affair between father and son and now an uncle!? Dad's brother!?"

"I have!" I shot back. "Dad was a Psychiatrist, remember? He had as DSMT that was always current! The diagnosis came about in the 1980s. It's very real, but usually between family members who didn't know they were related but raised completely apart; brothers and sisters that didn't know they were brother and sister. Mother to son, daughter to father and father and son. Even those that did know feel a powerful draw when reunited." I waved at Mark, "They knew of each other, but didn't know each other. They share the Y DNA of the men of the family. Borislav and Deneil carry their father's Y Chromosomal DNA, therefore Mark has it. It is incest, but that doesn't have to mean physically abused. Right or wrong, there was love there."

Mark was not ready for that, "Really!?"

"Sure," I nodded and looked at Mike. "Do you have your laptop set for the Wi-Fi?"

"Yes, I'll get it." He jumped up and ran inside. He jogged back with his laptop and handed it to me.

"This is the website Dad had ready online," I said typing. "He had one hardback version, but with all the updates...this one was always current," I pulled up the website and got what I was looking for. Typed the requested topic and turned the computer around. "See? Here's the subject of Genetic Sexual Attraction and they even give you other websites with various doctors who have written papers about this very thing."

"There are so many casefiles!" Mark's eyes widened. "I didn't know...there are so many of them."

"Why would you? You went into law," I simply. "Not medicine. But that's not all."

Mark grimaced at me, "No." He drank his glass again and poured again. "Before I pass out. I feel that coming." He was now even weaving as he sat. "I had sex with both of them for three years!" Now he was laughing, but the humor was for the absurdity of it. "Dad was jealous of his brother! Uncle Deneil was fighting with my father over me!?" He threw his hands out in helplessness. "It was an accident, but Uncle Deneil killed my Dad. I explained that to the police. I couldn't testify against my uncle. I loved him!" He shook his head, "But I loved my father, too!" He swallowed his third bourbon. "What should I have done?" He sighed again. "I was put in foster homes until I was seventeen," Mark explained. "Uncle Deneil was sentenced, and I don't know if he's dead, alive or even in the United States. I joined the marines and had my name changed by the JAG Office when I enlisted." He looked up, "I didn't tell them everything, but they understood I didn't want the name Hanaman after a murder victim or killer. I became Mark Hill from Dayton Ohio." He shrugged.

I drank a little of the bourbon, but rose and handed the remainder to Mark, "I don't need this." Then, I slapped him pretty hard across the face. He looked at me uncertain. "Traumatic events re-enforce memory. You've drunk so much, you may not remember in the morning, but I'll remind you if needed. My opinion of you has not changed one little bit." I knelt in front of him and took his tear-stained face in my hands. "You are a good, good man, Mark. I adore you. None of this was your fault! Good or bad you were a child! I now see what made you who you are. You have some good memories about your father and uncle." I nodded, "It is a bit weird, but it is positive. It is more Human than you think. Who is to say if it's right or wrong? It is taboo."

"Many people would say my living in the same house with my husband's ex-lover is wrong," Mike shrugged. "Who the Hell are they? What criterium are they judging it by?" He smiled, "I trust Eric, I trust you. Is that foolish? I don't think so."

"One more time," I said. "You were a child. It wasn't you're doing, and you are family. This, our family." I raised my right hand. "Do I need to re-enforce the concept again?"

Mark chuckled and reached up and held my hand still, "No!!" He stumbled. "I got it. Thanks." He hugged the two of us. He broke us apart and looked at the house, "But if someone can help me to my bedroom," he said a little slurred. "There are so many steps! I'd probably break my neck."