This is a work of pure fiction, but based on the author's feelings, beliefs, and in some cases, experience. Come to think of it -- it might not be very pure either! There may be graphic sexual encounters at times between men, so if this offends you, you are invited to retreat. If you are too young or it is otherwise illegal for you to be reading this kind if story, shame on you for reading it - - please stop here. If not, - - ENJOY!
Cast of characters:
Jack Smith -- uh -- that would be me
Billy -- Jack's closest brother, 3 yrs older.
Will Smith -- My dad
Vivian Smith My mom
Art -- Jack's oldest brother, 9 yrs older.
Ralph Gilmore -- a new friend - deceased
Stacy Whitworth -- a catalyst/friend
George Toliver -- old grade school buddy
George Toliver, Sr, -- (duh!)
Cynthia Toliver -- (Mrs. Duh!)
Jim Walls-- George's cousin
Uncle Jake Smith-- Will's Brother
Aunt Lindy -- Uncle Jake's wife
Seth Gary -- One of Jake and Lindy's other nephews
Etta -- The Jacob Smith's housekeeper.
Jake Smith Jr. Jack's cousin
Colin -- Jake's partner
Carrie Smith -- Another of the Smith cousins
Al -- Carrie's Partner
Chris Gary -- Seth's older brother.
Craig -- Chris's partner
Mario -- Old high school friend
Terrence Moynahan -- Carmel Architect
Casey Bell -- Terrence's attorney
Ryan Crayson-- my husband
Ryan Jr. (Rye) -- Our son
Ranee -- Our daughter.
Harold -- the butler
From Chapter 25:
"So - - is Pop healed up enough to - - "
"We get by, Rye. There's more than one way to skin a cat!"
"Huh? Skin what?"
"It's an old expression. It just means - "
"I think I got it, Dad!" he said laughing.
"So -- are you clear on what you are going to do -- or not -- with Buddy now?"
"You've given me a lot to think about. Thanks, Dad. I love you." He said, and hugged me, letting me know how he feels about me and also reminding me that it's his decision.
I accept that. We have tried our best to raise our kids with good morals and good decision making skills. If they haven't mostly learned by 17, it's probably too late. (But we never stop trying, do we?)
Chapter 26
"Dad?"
"Yes, Son?" I always loved it when Ryan wanted to talk, but this time, it sounds like something is not quite right. I assumed it wasn't gonna be another Dad/Rye sex talk for the simple reason that Ranee was also with him. We were riding our horses around the neighborhood.
"Dad, I dunno what to say. I -- I mean we -- Nay-nay and me -- we're worried about Pop!"
I was worried about this. Ever since the kidnapping, Ryan was getting more and more withdrawn from me -- and also to the kids. He was healing up very well -- at least the physical stuff. And I certainly couldn't complain about the sex he was giving me. That was the one place where he seemed to excel beyond where he was before -- at first. But our life now has been divided into "before" and "after" the kidnapping. I guess what I am saying is -- we've been having a lot more make-up sex than before.
His penis healed bent slightly to the right, and with kris-crossed welts. He doesn't seem to be any less sensitive -- maybe even a little more -- but man it tickles my fancy as never before! Two of the fingers in his right hand are still numb.
But all these things were minor compared to -- his newly developed paranoia. He's becoming fearful of everything. The police -- feds as well as local -- said that there were no other people associated with the thugs that kidnapped him. But he went out and has hired private body guards for the kids. They don't have a minute's privacy.
At least the private dicks don't sleep in the same room as the kids, but he had sleeping quarters built adjacent to each or their rooms, taking the square footage from the gigantic library that his great-grandfather built back in the early 1920's.
Harold is still our acting bodyguard, so at least that hasn't changed. But -- this is the hard part -- Ryan has gotten increasingly paranoid toward the kids -- and me -- AND Harold. He thinks that we are all conspiring against him.
So when Rye and Ranee came to me, it was not unexpected. "Worried?" I said, trying to be light and nonchalant.
"Dad! You know what we're talking about! We've heard you arguing -- a lot - at night." Said Ranee.
"And - - it isn't like the arguing we used to hear!" Said Rye, smirking a little despite the seriousness of the situation.
"Okay, kids." I admitted. "There does seem to be some stress going on right now. But -- I'm sure none of us knows -- God knows I don't! -- what it's like to have been treated in the way your pop has."
"Dad, it's been 4 months. And we're not complaining -- really. We're just worried." Said Rye.
"We love Daddy, Dad," said Ranee. "But instead of getting better, he seems to be getting worse."
Horseback riding was one of the few places we could have a little privacy. Ryan was afraid of doing that, maybe partly because it was while checking on the stables -- after getting home late that fateful night -- that he was kidnapped. But he seemed to have a newfound fear of the horses too. He had a lot of newfound fears.
Each of the kids had birthdays since "the incident", as we were starting to call it. And each of them received the same thing from Pop: An expensive security system -- set up in their suites -- bedrooms -- so they truly did not have any privacy at all, because the command center was changed to Ryan's suite -- what used to be the guest bedroom he would sleep in when he was out late with clients - which more and more, I was not welcome in.
"Dad -- I can't do anything -- um -- private even in my own bedroom!" he said, making sure I caught his drift by a loud clearing of his throat. "Thank God for Jethro!" He said. Jethro was his horse, a two-year-old Arabian gelding.
No, perverts! He didn't "have his way" with Jethro. But it was on Jethro that he could get away far enough -- and long enough -- to get the "privacy" he craved. He could have driven his Vette, but for some reason, Ryan never questioned when anyone went riding. We learned to always invite him, so he could not complain. And we pretty much knew he would decline a horseback ride.
"I'll talk to my cousin." I said.
"Oh, please don't Dad!" Said Ranee.
"Uncle Jake seems to tell everything to his kids and then we hear about it!" Said Rye.
"I'm not talking about Jake. I'm talking about Seth. He's a doctor, and he won't say anything to anyone if I tell him."
"Oh yeah. We like Uncle Seth!"
"What seems to be the problem, Jack?" Said Seth, after the usual warm welcome and hugs. Luke looked almost exactly like he did when I first met him -- which was disconcerting to the max, because I was now looking older than him and he was at least 8 years my senior.
But Seth -- was -- to put it gracefully -- prematurely gray. White, really. His hair was snowy white at less than 35 years old. But his dark eyebrows and skin, gave him even more of a mysterious look. Now at 46, he was getting almost distinguished looking.
I looked intently at Luke. "Luke, we'll talk in the atrium." Sid Seth. They had built their house two years after we all moved from Santa Barbara. The atrium was a glass room around which all the other main rooms were situated. The Atrium was a garden, also open to the sky in the summer.
There were trees and benches placed randomly but strategically in the atrium. Seth had it built that way, because he never felt he could trust himself, and this way he could have privacy with clients but Luke could see anything that went on. His relationship with Luke was the most important thing in his life, and I doubt he'd ever do anything to destroy that, but ....
We sat on a very comfortable padded garden seat near the middle of the atrium. "You're having marital problems?"
"It's more complicated than that, Seth. Ever since the incident, he - "
"You mean the kidnapping?"
"Yes. Ever since then Ryan has been every more paranoid, it seems each day. He has body guards for each of the kids and has surveillance camera in each of their rooms!"
"That's invasive. There's no law against it but -- it's pretty extreme. Do you think he'll talk to me?"
"Probably not if he knew what he was talking to you about."
"Gotcha. Okay, can you and the whole family come here for a barbeque next Thursday?"
That night at the dinner table, Ryan said, "Next Thursday, the security people will be here to upgrade our system." Which meant more cameras from more angles.
"Great!" I said smiling. "As soon as they leave, we can go over to Luke and Seth's. They're having a barbecue and the family was invited."
"Huh? The family' was invited? Why wasn't I informed? Am I not part of The family' any more?" Said Ryan. I wanted to cry. This is NOT the Ryan I married -- this is not MY Ryan.
"They invited me yesterday, Sweetheart." I said.
"Why were you talking to them?" he demanded.
"Seth is my cousin, Ryan. We talk all the time."
"He's not! I know that Jake the busy body is your cousin, but how are you related to Seth?" He challenged.
"<SIGH!> He's not, but I am closer to him -- you KNOW that, Ryan -- than any of the other brothers."
"Brothers! What a bunch of pig shit! They're no more brothers than - "
"Ryan!" I shouted. Even I could only take so much. "As far as I am concerned they're ALL MY brothers too!"
"Well, you seem to be seeing a lot more of them than you used to!"
I really didn't, but that was his paranoid mind at work. "That's not true at all, Ryan. I'm here most of the time -- especially since the incident."
"The incident! Is that all it's come down to now? I was kidnapped and mutilated, for crap sakes! Why do you all insist on calling it `the incident'?"
Harold was the only one left that Ryan trusted completely, and now he came to my rescue. "That was on your request, Mr. C. You didn't like referring to it by the other term any more."
"Oh! So it was! Well, I don't know why we have to keep dating our activities either pre or post `the incident'."
We all looked at each other, seemingly defeated.
"Look, I'm sorry I have been such a burden to you all, I - "
"It's not that, Ryan, it's - "
"Yes it is, Dad!" said Rye to me, with his 18-year-old indignation. Then he turned on Ryan. "Pop, you have become a pain in the ass -- everyone's ass!"
I almost flinched at that. I felt I should come to my husband's defense, but -- I couldn't. Truth was truth.
"Fine!" he said. "You all go to Seth's barbecue. I'll just stay here and watch the security people. You can't be sure of what they might do!"
"Daddy!" said Ranee. "Please! Uncle Seth made it a late barbecue anyway, because he knows you often work late. It's not `the family' without you, Daddy!" She intoned passionately.
Ryan looked at each of us in turn and lastly at his sweet daughter. "Well -- okay. I'll make sure the upgrades are complete before -- when are we expected?"
"7:00 PM." I said.
"Alright. But don't expect me to talk to the little shrink!" He added.
I alerted Seth to the fact that Ryan was paranoid about talking to him.
"That's a normal reaction. Since it's casual -- not a formal appointment -- Luke'll help me with it."
We arrived at Seth and Luke's at 6:30, and Ryan was still dragging his heels. Ranee stayed back to make sure he came. She was the only one who could still get him to do anything he didn't want -- and that included almost everything now.
Ranee had to threaten to stay home with him, to get him to come. He told her to go and he would come later -- probably -- when his headache felt better. She said, no, she'd stay home and take care of him. He knew how much she wanted to go, so he relented.
As soon as they got there, Ursula ran over to Ranee and they ran off giggling like -- well a couple little girls. Ursula is two years older, but always less mature -- or maybe more sheltered -- than most girls her age. That left Ryan alone with Luke.
"So, Ryan, Jack tells me you were a surfer of some note in your day." Said Luke.
"Jack's been talking about me?" Said Ryan.
Ignoring that, Luke started to talk about the Oahu North Shore and asked if Ryan was ever there.
"Oh yeah!" Said Ryan more animated than I had seen him in a long time. I was standing afar off, but Ryan filled me in on their light conversation later that night. They talked surfing for a time, and then Ryan asked Luke about his surfing days.
"Heh! I still do it whenever I can. Do you want to come sometime? Seth won't do it, and I don't like going alone."
They chatted for a good hour when Seth walked in on them. "Ryan says he may like to go surfing with me sometime!" Said Luke
"Great! I'll go along and watch!" He giggled. "It's almost dinner time, guys. Have you even had anything to drink?" Seth asked, looking around.
"Drink!" Said Luke. "How long before dinner?"
"Maybe 25 minutes. Why?"
"I completely forgot! I was supposed to go out and get some drinks for dinner! I'll be right back." Said Luke, planning to leave Seth and Ryan alone together.
"You don't need to do that!" Said Ryan. "I'll just send Rye and Ranee home for some!"
"Aw, don't bother them!" Said Seth. Look at them! "They're having too much fun with my brothers' kids! I can help you go over and get it." Said Seth.
As paranoid as he was, Ryan didn't see how he was being manipulated. To this day,
I don't know what Seth said to Ryan, as they went over to our place and retrieved some sodas and beer, but Seth reported to me that he (Seth) was not qualified to talk to Ryan.
"I'm afraid he may need a Psychiatrist. I can't prescribe anything but OTC drugs. I expect that Ryan may need something a little stronger."
"Drugs?" I said.
"Oh yeah."
"I've heard you rail against too many drugs!" I said.
"Well, and I still do! Especially when it comes to kids. Too many people want to keep their kids drugged up instead of using intelligence and discipline to raise them. We have a nation of legal addicts!
"But drugs have their place." Seth said. "And I really don't know what or if that would do the trick for Ryan. But I was able to make Ryan feel more comfortable about talking to a psychiatrist."
"How did you do that?" I asked, amazed.
"I think that he was more worried about my familiarity than anything else. He needs someone the he doesn't know -- and -- preferably someone no one else knows. At least no one that Ryan knows. I told him that he needs to tell you though."
"Hmm." I said.
"Don't be overly surprised. But don't act like you knew it either. He thinks he asked me for help. And really -- he did."
"But how - "
Seth smiled. "Tricks of the trade. Can't reveal ALL of them!" he smiled.
At the end of the night, I found Ryan again talking to Luke -- over a hot game of table tennis. They made plans to go surfing the very next Tuesday. As Ryan was telling me this -- while we undressed for bed -- he stopped cold and said, "Jack -- I'm scared!"
"What's wrong, baby?" I said. He broke down and started sobbing. I couldn't take that, and my eyes started to fill too.
"Seth says I need professional help!" He cried. "I feel like such a dweeb! "I know I'm fucked up!" My mouth dropped open at that remark. I'd never heard that word come out of his mouth. "But, Jack, he says I may need some hormone replacement or something. And he can't prescribe it." He stopped awhile to sob deeply. "Jack! I'm so sorry to be such a burden -- to the whole family!" he sobbed.
You've been through an awful lot -- we all have!" I said.
"Jack, they kicked me in the nuts so hard, so many times! And when that evil son-of-a-bitch carved on my dick -- he kept threatening to cut it off! All I could think of was you! Losing you!"
"Well, guess what? None of that happened." I said as cheerily as I could. "How soon?"
"Seth said he'll make an appointment. The shrink he wants me to see is out in Monterrey -- California! I don't want to go there alone~! Can you get time off and go with me?" He asked. "And Oh! My sweetheart, Jack! Please don't feel bad that I went to Seth and not you!"
"I never gave it a thought. No one gets to shrink his own mates head!" I laughed. "It's just not advisable."
"But I want you to go with me to California!"
"I'll see if they can spare me." I said as straight-faced as I could. "Hey, don't be so serious! I'll get it off. And I think my old friend Jim still has a house there. I won't go to your sessions with this doctor, but -- I can go see Jim. I think the house is all he has left of his millions, but last I heard he was still there."
"Oh good! You and he may have some catching up to do!" Said Ryan.
He has no idea!
"Jack -- I'm scared!"
"Huh?" I said. This was not a usual emotion for Ryan. He was always the one who was in control. Now twice he said it to me.
As if he heard my thoughts, he said, "I feel so out of control! I've never thought about talking to a psychologist -- much less a psychiatrist! And to go all the way out to California! I've actually never been there."
"Nuh-uh!" I said, supremely surprised.
"I just never had any desire to. Isn't it a bunch of weirdoes?"
"Thanks!" I said.
"I didn't mean you, Jack."
"All my cousins -- next door -- are also from California, too. Do you think they are weird?"
"Yeah." He said.
"WHAT??!!" I exclaimed.
"But that's what I LIKE about them! Them I can deal with. I just don't know about the rest of California. Jack, PLEASE don't make me go alone!"
"I told you I'd go. And -- I think you're going to be pleasantly surprised. And especially up in Monterrey, it's not all that different from here. It's beautiful."
I just held him until he went to sleep. Since the incident, he seemed to be pulling more and more away from me - - sexually. Maybe there was something to this need for hormone therapy.
Directly after the accident, he seemed like he couldn't get enough, and it has been tapering off since then, to where he just isn't interested any more -- beyond having me close. He still lets me "have my way" when I want it, but he just doesn't participate like he used to.
I heard him crying the next night, after a long day with clients, and he crawled into the bed in the guest bedroom, so as not to bother me. I came into him and lay next to him -- on top of the covers.
"Ryan, Please come to bed -- I mean OUR bed. Don't sleep over here in this room any more. Let ME deal with my insomnia. I have been sleeping less lately anyway, thinking about you. Just let me hold you, okay?"
"I'm sorry, Jack. I -- I -- just hate to give you false hope."
"You've pretty much lost interest in sex, haven't you?" I asked.
"You have every right to leave, Jack. I can't be the man that you married." He was again sobbing.
"Ryan, I love you. `For better or for worse' means something, doesn't it?" Not waiting for a response, I continued, "and -- what about Rye and Ranee. They are my kids too! I couldn't leave them! No, you're stuck with me, I'm afraid. Ryan!" I said, expecting some kind of response.
His breathing was deep and regular. He had fallen asleep while I was talking. I didn't say that much did I?
I closed my eyes -- but I didn't sleep. I remembered why it was that he started sleeping in the guest room. The next day I asked one of my MD colleagues to write me a prescription for sleeping pills.
"Jack -- I'll write you one, but -- I know you've complained about insomnia before. Do you know how to self-hypnotize?"
"I've done it before -- but never for sleep deprivation." I said.
"Try that first, Jack. Sleeping pills of any variety can be dangerous, taken regularly." He said as he scribbled on a prescription sheet.
"Hi Jack!" Said a voice behind me that I knew well.
"Hi Seth." I said, smiling despite myself, as I saw his own bright smile.
"You look sleepy!" He smiled.
"Yeah -- I am."
"Why don't you go home and sleep? You don't have any regular coming in, do you?" Seth was kind of my supervisor -- if such was the way we operated. "I'll field any walk-ins that you might have taken. Ryan told me that you were wanting to go to California with him."
"Yeah -- I was gonna ask you about that." I said. "Actually, he wants me to - "
"You mean you were gonna TELL me. You don't have to ask me something like that. And I KNOW it was his idea. Ryan also said that you were going to visit your old friend, Jim. Hey, can you come into my office a moment?"
I followed Seth into his office and he shut the door.
"Do you think it's wise to visit your old lover?"
"He was never a lover, Seth."
"But you wanted him to be. Didn't you tell me that?"
"Yeah." I admitted. "But it won't be a problem."
"I wouldn't normally think so. And maybe I shouldn't judge you based on my own weaknesses. But just beware, that's all."
"Thanks, Seth. You know I take anything you say to my heart. I'll be careful."
"Good! Tell your sweetheart hi for me!"
Seth looked so good! He probably will never recover from some of the heartache and troubles of his youth, but he was such a damned honest and clean looking guy! He looked 20 years older than I, yet was only a few years my senior. His prematurely gray hair was so sexy!
"Thanks Seth. See you tomorrow."
I went home and Harold had already made sure lunch was put out for me. I ate and went up to our room. Something didn't feel right. The bed was unmade, but that wasn't unusual. The maid service didn't usually get there that early. But something didn't feel quite right.
Ryan always slept in pajamas, and he had dropped them in the bathroom. He's usually more careful than that. I looked in his closet. I counted his suits. All six were accounted for. I looked at his dress shoes. Ten pair, lined up carefully. I went back downstairs.
"Where's Ryan, today, Harold?"
"Work -- I assume."
"Did you see him leave?"
"Actually no. He called me soon after he left, and said he may be home late -- no surprise there, but I was surprised that he didn't check in with me before he left."
"Harold, in all your years with him, how many times did he go either in to the office, or out to meet a client -- NOT dressed in a suit and tie?"
"Never, Jack. Why."
"All his suits and all his dress shoes are accounted for upstairs. I don't like it!"
"Me neither, sir!" Said Harold.
I immediately keyed in Ryan's cell phone number.
"Hello, you have reached Ryan Crayson. Please leave a message and I'll return it as soon as I can."
After the message, it gave me the option to page him -- which I did. He didn't answer it.
"Normally, I wouldn't be concerned, Harold, but his car has GPS doesn't it?"
Harold quickly located Ryan's car: It was in the garage. We both ran to the garage, and found his car running, with Ryan in it, slumped over the middle arm rest. I yanked open the door and Harold lifted Ryan from the seat like he was a feather. I struggled to keep up, as my mind was reeling, and I stumbled after Harold carrying the limp body of my sweetheart.
He gently laid Ryan on the warm ground under a tree. He put his ear to Ryan's chest, then opened his mouth and closed his nose and administered some second hand air to him. Harold coughed hard as there was an immediate expulsion of air from Ryan, but still no sign of consciousness.
I got down on my hands and knees and watched as Harold blew a second breath into Ryan's mouth.
"Is there anything I should be doing?" I asked. As the air slipped out of Ryan, again with no sign of coming to.
"Call 9-1-1, dammit!" Said Harold. I felt like a scolded schoolboy and swore. I immediately keyed 9-1-1 into Harold's phone, which he threw at me. (Mine, as well as most of my clothing was in my bedroom -- I was in nothing more than my usual boxer-briefs and a tee shirt.)
By the time the paramedics got there Ryan was breathing at least erratically, after vomiting and choking on his own vomit.
"You're very lucky your garage is not very airtight!" Said one of the paramedics. "The carbon monoxide clung to the floor and relatively little got into the car. How long do you suppose that the car was running?"
Ryan's eyes were still closed, and the other Paramedic was checking his pupils and the gas levels he was exhaling.
"It was probably a couple hours since he called me from his car this morning." Said Harold.
The paramedic that was attending to Ryan was probably in his mid twenties. He looked genuinely concerned -- like the job had not yet turned him callous when dealing with cases like this. He looked up at Harold and shook his head. "We'll have to take him into the hospital again, Hal. No way to really tell how much -- er I mean, if there is damage." Apparently he knows Harold. He looked at me and gave me a sympathetic look. "He'll probably be okay, Sir." He said.
Harold asked me, "Do you think you should go along with the paramedics or do you want to be here when the kids get back?"
I looked down at myself. "You better go. I'd not be of any help. And you'll call me if there's anything to - - report -- right?"
"Of course I will, Jack!" I started back toward the house, and they were about to close the doors in the back of the ambulance when I heard, weakly, "Jack!"
In about a half-second I was back to the door. "Don't go!" He pleaded with me. I again looked down at my skivvies and then at the young attendant.
"They'll give you some scrubs at the hospital, sir. It'll be okay."
"I'll bring some clothes when I bring the kids down later, Jack." Said Harold.
As soon as the door were closed and I was situated and buckled in -- right next to Ryan's head -- the ambulance started to move. Ryan tried to focus on my eyes, but he couldn't.
"I'm so sorry -- Jack -- to be such trouble!" He said. His head then flopped to the right -- away from me -- and he was out again, as suddenly as he seemed to wake up.
The young paramedic was sitting right next to me, but again -- for the second time in a short time, I closed my eyes to talk to God. I held Jack's hand in my own and prayed mightily that God would save my sweetheart once again.
When I was finished, the young man next to me said, "Amen". I looked over and he had tears in his eyes too. "You'd be surprised how many prayers are uttered in this vehicle!" he said. I took his hand and brought it up and put it next to my face.
"Thank you!" I said.
"I think Mr. Crayson will be okay. He's done so much for our emergency center. And hospital! He's GOTTA be!"
We pulled into the emergency room again, and they wheeled him in, followed by me, stumbling behind -- in my underwear. But I was past noticing.
Notes: Thanks for all your nice letters! They are always welcome -- and I will always answer! Love, Steve Thomas. Stevethomas535@hotmail.com.