My Summer Job, Chapter Twenty-three
Warning: the following story contains graphic descriptions of sex between consenting adult males. If you are underage or do not wish to read such materials, read no further. If you have any feedback, please drop me a line at niftyguy_30307@yahoo.com
Thanks a lot to all of the guys who have written. I appreciate the encouragement.
Note: Each new chapter in this series assumes the reader has read the preceding chapters.
What a diff'rence, a day made.
As the shot rang out, time slowed down to the point that I truly believe that I could have seen the bullet had I been looking.
Twenty-four little hours.
I could have reached out and plucked it out of thin air like it was a piece of lint clinging to the fabric of time and space, or flicked it away as though it were an insect that was crawling its way toward a bloody scrap of meat.
Brought the sun and the flowers.
But I didn't see it, and I didn't interrupt its trajectory, and I didn't keep it from changing everything.
Where there used to be rain.
But I get ahead of myself.
"There she goes, she's taking a left turn at the light." Sam pointed at Beverly's shabby hatchback as it slid through the intersection. "Isn't her house the other way? She must not be going straight back home."
I did my best to follow a discreet distance back, occasionally even letting another car come between us. I had to be careful, though, because I didn't want to lose her. We had waited outside the diner at the end of her shift, and we had trailed her first to a supermarket. After she emerged with a single bag and a bouquet of flowers, we followed her onto a road that appeared to lead out of town.
"I think she's turning up that dirt road," Sam hissed.
Indeed she was. I slowed down and pulled off to the side of the road, not wanting to risk following her on the unpaved surface. A column of dust marked her progress up the rutted lane, but she slowed down and turned barely two hundred yards from the main road. Within seconds, the sound of her car's engine ceased, signaling that she had stopped.
After a couple of minutes of waiting, Sam turned to me. "Are you game?"
I nodded wordlessly, and we stepped out of the car into the filtered gray light of the fog-obscured sun. Gravel crunched under foot as we made our way to the spot where Beverly had turned. As we drew closer, a faded sign came into view. Seaside Rest Cemetery. Tall pines swayed, and a few lazy gulls glided in for a look-see. In the distance, Beverly stood, looking down at a grave, her back turned towards us. We watched for a minute or two, but ducked quickly behind a tree as she turned to return to her car.
And then we heard her car start, and she was gone.
Unwilling to break the somber silence of this place, I motioned to Sam to follow, and we walked together over to the far side of the cemetery. As we got closer to where Beverly had stood, I saw that she had left the bouquet of flowers in front of a well-tended grave. But it wasn't just any grave. Very clearly, engraved lovingly in eternal stone, were the most unexpected words.
Richard Gray A Beloved Son Taken Too Soon 1966 Ð 1993
Sam and I just stood there, mouths agape. It took a very long minute for the import of these words to sink in.
"Well I'll be goddamned," Sam said slowly, eyes glued to the stone tablet, almost daring the words to dissolve before our very eyes. "Now I don't know what to think."
"Is this even possible?" I asked rhetorically. "How could Rich be buried here and running Idlewild at the same time?"
"He can't be. That much is clear. The only thing I can figure is that the Rich we know must be a fake."
"Once again, a keen grasp of the obvious."
Sam and I both froze, rooted in place by the sound of an oh-so-familiar voice, emerging from behind a marble monument behind us. Very slowly, we turned around, while simultaneously Rich emerged into view.
"But don't you think that fake is a needlessly harsh term? I personally prefer impostor."
Our now anonymous nemesis motioned at he grave with the 9 mm semi-automatic pistol he carried. "Sorry to have to tell you, Sam, that your brother's dead. It's kind of ironic, though, you and he are quite alike. He tried to get away from me, too, and we just couldn't have that, could we? He was going to spoil my plans then, just the way you want to now. It's a shame you'll have to end up the same way, have the same kind of accident."
He turned to me. "Unfortunately for you, Mike, you're going to go along for the same ride. It is gratifying to know just how predictable and stupid you are; it confirms what I thought all along."
"But how did you know we'd be here?"
Rich laughed. "You really don't get it, do you Mike? Do you really think that it was a coincidence that I left the safe open the other night, when I sent you to get cigars? I played you like a violin. I knew that you'd come here to Fort Bragg, that you'd find Beverly, that eventually she'd lead you here. Here's some advice. When you're following someone else, it's important to check to make sure you're not being followed yourself. You know, it's a good thing you've got a big dick, because you sure wouldn't get very far on your brains. Of course, since I'm going to have to kill you, I guess that particular issue is moot."
Rich raised his gun, pointing it directly at us.
"OK, now we're going to go for a little walk." He motioned toward a path that led through some scrubby trees. "That way, boys."
Our little procession wound through the grove of trees before emerging onto a bluff high above the ocean. We could hear waves crashing below, a muffled pounding against the sheer rock face, but the view was obscured by the blanket of fog that was piling onto the coast. We stopped maybe five feet from the edge of the cliff, near a sign that, in pictogram form, warned of the danger of falling to the rocks below. Rich pulled a bottle out of the pocket of his jacket and tossed it on the ground in front of us.
"Pick it up," he said brusquely.
I reached down to retrieve the clear, unmarked bottle. It contained a green liquid, which looked the same as what Robbie had been drinking a couple of nights before, the last night that I had spent at Idlewild. Whatever it was, it must be strong, judging from the effect that it had had on Robbie.
"Drink it."
Sam shook his head. "Mike, don't. I've had that stuff. It's like a narcotic. We won't be in control if we have it. He'll be able to just push us off the cliff." Sam looked very harshly at Rich. "I want to be awake when this asshole kills me. I do have one question for you, though. Why did you take my brother's name and pretend to be him?"
Rich smiled tightly. "Why Sam, you're almost as stupid as Mike. Quite simply, as soon as your brother told me his tale of woe, how he had been abandoned by his rich father, left to be raised in this nowhere place, I knew that we had a ticket on a gravy train. We just had to play it right. When your brother decided that he wasn't willing to do what it took to get on board, well, let's just say that I took matters into my own hands." Once again, Rich raised his gun. "Now something tells me that you're both terribly thirsty."
My heart was pounding. There didn't seem to be any way out. Slowly, in resignation, I unscrewed the cap and raised the bottle to my lips. The acrid, licorice aroma permeated my nose as Sam looked at me and shook his head, pleading with me not to do it. I tilted the bottle back, preparing myself mentally to take the last few breaths of my life. Suddenly, violently, I was jerked back to the here and now as a shot rang out. I dropped the bottle, and it shattered against a rock, creating a sunburst explosion of green liquid. A second shot rang out, and I hurtled myself at Sam, pulling him down.
And then I turned to watch Rich, in slow motion surprise, slowly sink to the ground, two bloody stains blooming across his white shirt. He turned to look at us.
"Help, help me."
It may have been one minute, it may have been ten. But eventually his eyes turned glassy and lifeless, and they threatened us no more.
It was at that moment that I first heard the sobs, and I looked over to the edge of the trees, where Beverly Gray had sunk to the ground, breast heaving with the pent up tears of delayed retribution. She very deliberately set a gun on the ground in front of her. No longer did she have a need for it.
. . .
I had just nestled into the deep armchair I had scavenged for my room, ready to do some reading for my history class, when the phone rang. It was one of those cold and rainy days that you can have in California, despite its sunny reputation, even as early as November, and I had just made some tea to ward off the chill while I did my work. I reached over to pick up the phone.
"Hello."
"Hey there." The familiar voice felt like a ray of sunshine sweeping over me.
"Hey Sam, what are you up to?"
"Not much, Mikey boy. I just wanted to make sure everything was set for Thanksgiving. Did you get the directions to my parents' house?"
"Yeah, I printed out the email, so I should be all set. I'll drive up Wednesday morning, so I'll probably be there by 1:00 or so."
"Sounds good. That'll give us a couple of hours without Mom and Dad around."
I laughed. "And why should I care about that?"
"Well, I think I can make you care, big guy."
Just the thought of sleeping with Sam again was enough of a catalyst to cause an erection to spring to life, and I reached my hand into my jeans to adjust my lengthening cock. As we talked, I allowed my hand to stroke myself, bringing to mind memories of everything that had gone on up at Idlewild, but especially my first time with Sam. It had been an amazing summer, the summer when I became the man who I am. And the summer when I met the man who was mine.
It's heaven when you find romance on your menu What a difference a day made And the difference is you
THE END
Note to readers: Thanks very much to all of you who stuck with the story to the end. I hope that you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.