I'm going to spare the details on the next few weeks. I returned to work, only to find out that I violated policies by leaving town while on Disability without approval from the doctor in charge. They denied further coverage as of the date I left town, which was only about 5 days' pay. I asked if I could take vacation time, but that was also denied. I guess Daniel expected me to kiss his ass for being so "generous." I refused to stoop so low. Things got tense at the office, too. Vic would give me the iciest looks when he walked past me, and an "anonymous" note was left on my desk warning me to keep my mouth shut or else. Or else WHAT? I wondered. Mark avoided me as much as he could, which is easy since he worked in the other building, but I did see him on the street a couple of times. He tried to send me a couple of instant messages through the corporate IM program, but I ignored them.
The other thing that happened was that our divorce was finalized. Yes, I am a free man now. But, it was very ugly right afterward. Leslie is very self-sufficient, and since she actually makes about $20,000 more than me, I don't have to pay her alimony. I also don't have to pay child support since they're not my kids biologically. She tried to remain amiable in the courtroom, but her bitch attorney made me out to be the devil incarnate, so I didn't really fare too well in court. Josh was helpless to counter her. She knew her stuff. I was just glad to sign the freakin' papers so I could get away from her. We agreed that the house was hers, as was most of the contents. She allowed me my computer, the settlement on my car, my clothes, of course, and a few other things that were really mine. Dad wanted to shoot me for agreeing to so little, but I desperately wanted this to be over. Finally it was, and we signed the papers. I gathered my stuff, grunted a goodbye to Josh, and Dad and I walked out of the room. Dad went into the mens room, so I decided to wait outside the main entrance to the courts building. As I was standing there, a hand grabbed my throat and slammed me against the wall. There stood Peter Markham, practically nose to nose with me.
Hissing violently through his teeth, he says "If I EVER...and I mean EVER...hear of you getting near my grandsons or my daughter again, I swear I'll kill you, you little mother-fucking son-of-a-bitch. Do you hear me?"
Coming up behind him, his fat wife, Margo, says impatiently, "Peter, let's go. I'm hungry."
Markham gives me a slight push on my throat, my back making contact again with the wall, but lighter this time. I'm stunned beyond words. We used to have such a great relationship, Pete and I. And now he's threatening my very life.
"Yes, sir," I squeak out. He lets me go then stalks off with Margo. I watch them go, sadly. I really will miss them. I reminisce about the good times, the BBQ's, Christmases, all gone. Then I hear a stern voice behind me.
"Just a minute, Markham!" my dad yells. Pete and Margo stop and turn. "Just who the fuck do you think you're threatening?"
I come back to reality and find my voice. "Dad, let's just go, ok? Drop it."
"I will NOT drop it, JD!" He turns his attention back to Pete. Now, Dad has a good 8 inches on Pete, and so he's looking down at him, eye to eye. My dad could snap Pete in half and not work up a sweat.
"Look, Corey, I don't know what happened to your perverted son, but I don't want that poison spread to my grandsons. It's bad enough what he did to my daughter. So get out of my face."
A bailiff walks up to them. "OK, what's going on here? Break it up, or I'll haul you both back inside."
Dad glares at Pete, then turns on his heel. I follow him, grateful to get away from the confrontation. Behind me, I hear Margo, now in charge, "Pete!
NOW!"
In the car, Dad's fuming. "If he so much as lays a finger on you, I'll be sure he's charged with everything in the book."
"Dad, it's fine. It's just as well. He'll never understand, so please, for me, just drop it."
Dad looks at me, a mixture of hurt and compassion. I know he wants to be my protector, but I AM 38 years old, for crying out loud. We drive over to Leslie's house. Sighing, I realize it's no longer mine. On the porch are boxes with my name on them. It's my stuff. How nice. We load everything up. Dad asks if I want to check everything, but I just don't care, and want to get the hell away from here. I pull my keys to the house (though I'm sure the locks are changed) and drop them into the mailbox. Then we head for home...my parents' home, now made mine again.
I go through the usual stages of grief: anger, yes. Denial, well, hard to do that. Finally, acceptance. I'm free. I'm FREE!! Then comes the words I've been dreading for so long to hear.
"Son, it's time we get your car replaced." Dad says.
"Uh, I can't, Dad, I got a lot of work to do, and I promised Mom I'd clean the garage, and..."
"Bullshit" Dad says good naturedly. "You have to do this sometime, Jesse. Sure, ok, you could do public transportation, but you know as well as I do that when you get thrown from the horse..."
My groan cuts him off. "Dad, please...not that old cliche."
Josh walks into the room. "Yeah, but it still applies."
I walk over and hug him. "Thanks for all you did for me, man."
Josh grins. Dang if only he wasn't my brother. "Any time bro. Now, car!"
I sigh heavily. It's inevitable. They're right. I can't live like this the rest of my life. "O-KAY! I give!"
Dad claps me on the shoulder. "Great! Let's make it a boys' night out! And....YOU are going to drive."
I must have had a look of sheer terror in my eyes, although it was involuntary, for Dad continues "We'll be right there with you."
Slightly comforted, and very afraid, I take the keys. I make it to the first car dealer we come to on Lindbergh Blvd. It's a Honda dealership. But, I drive like a little old man. Carefully, deliberately, and 10 miles under the speed limit. But, I triumph in that I crossed that first hurdle.
We take our time checking over a bunch of different cars. Dad and Josh are great negotiators, something that must have skipped over me. We test drive (or Josh and Dad do, anyway) several models, but each time, my mind keeps coming back to the CRV. I've always liked them, and I figure that this is the time to try it out. I agree to actually drive this particular model, and I find it has what I like. I even can get it in a 5-speed, which I enjoy driving. Sold on the idea, I set the Corey Legal team into action for negotiating price. The salesman gave me a look as if to say "Can't you do this yourself? You need your daddy?" But I didn't care. Dad would get me a good deal.
Two hours later, I'm driving my new vehicle off the lot, Dad and Josh following behind. I never was one for shopping around when I know what I like. I decide to drive up to South County Mall, just up the street, so I call Dad on his cell and let him know what I'm doing and that he can go back home.
I walk around the mall for a bit, checking out some clothing prices. Since I lost weight in the hospital, I don't have much that fits well anymore. As I'm looking at shirts, a voice next to me says "Excuse me, but has anyone ever told you that you look like John Stamos?"
I look over and see a handsome guy, about 3 inches taller than me, and on the thin side. "Uh, yeah, actually, especially since I lost about 25 pounds." I reply smiling.
He laughs, suddenly embarrassed. "I'm sorry...I normally don't do that to people, but at first I thought you WERE him."
I smile back. "Sorry dude...my name's Jesse."
His eyes grow wide. "Oh wow...that's like the character he played on 'Full House'. What a coincidence."
Inwardly, I groan. I've heard this a billion times, but outwardly, I smile and say "Yeah! That's right!" This guy is too cute. Reddish hair and goatee, blue eyes... He holds his hand out to me. "Hi, I'm Scott."
I shake his hand, and he lingers a moment...holding my hand slightly longer than "normal." "Great to meet you, Scott." I return my attention to my search for shirts. He turns to the next display and starts looking, but I'm sensing he's stalling. I decide to call his bluff.
"Hey, I'm having some trouble deciding here. Which do you think looks better on me, the blue or the green one?"
He turns and looks me over, although I never knew you had to go all the way to my feet to check out a shirt. "Well, I think the green would go better."
He holds the shirt up to me, taking advantage of the situation to put most of his hand against my chest. "Yeah, the green."
I nod. "Cool. Green it is." (I hated it.) I walk over to the sales counter and pay for it. Scott still lingers at the shirt rack, glancing over at me from time to time. Well, Jesse. I think. You're free and available. Go for it. I get my receipt and walk over.
"Look, I may be totally offbase here, but..well, I'm hungry and have no plans for dinner. Would you like to join me?"
Scott breaks into a big grin. Dang, he looks like Eric Stoltz! "Sure, man!
That sounds good." We agree to go to the Kriegers' Pub across Lindbergh. I get caught at the light, but he made it through. By the time I catch up, he already commandeered a booth near the back of the restaurant.
"So, Scott...do you often accept dinner invitations from strange guys?" I ask. Partly fishing to find out what type of person he is.
"Actually, no" he grins, blushing slightly. "I don't really get out with people much. But I'm glad you invited me. I'm starving too."
We get a moment of reprieve as the server comes over to take our orders. After he brings our drinks, we have a few moments of awkward small talk. I find out that he's an investment counselor, and I tell him about where I work. We start discussing relationships, and it seems that Scott had a long term relationship for about three years when he caught the guy screwing around on him. I tell him that I'm divorced as of today. His face falls, disappointed.
"Oh! Oh I'm sorry. This is embarrassing. I thought you were gay, Jesse." he says, all flustered.
"Hey, relax, man. I AM gay. That's why we got divorced." I tell him. Instantly his face lights back up. I ask him his age, and he says he's 29. Gosh, that's awfully young. I tell him I'm 38, but he doesn't believe me, so I pull out my driver's license to prove it.
"Wow, man, you don't look a day over 30 yourself." he smiles. I feel his foot brush my ankle and run up the outside of my calf. Instantly, I get a hard-on.
We relate our respective battle stories, but I leave out the whole Vic/Mark/Pete incidents, and also the accident. The whole time, he's removed his sandal and is messing with my leg. He'd then give me a sly grin, knowing what he's doing to me.
After we polish off our dinners, he says "Jess, do you want to come to my place?"
As good as that sounds, I reply "Scott, I'm just out of a divorce, and also had a bad experience recently with a guy. I'm not ready to just jump into something head first. I want to take my time and get to know someone, and I'm very interested in that person being you, but I can't rush it."
He nods knowingly and says "OK, I can respect that. I promise I won't push you. But I'd like to have you come over. Honest! No pressure!"
I grin and agree. We pay the bill and I follow him to his apartment. He's only a few blocks from the restaurant. We watch some TV for awhile, and Scott actually moves over next to me on the couch and lays his head against my shoulder. I marvel at how different it feels from when Leslie used to do this. We get very relaxed, and suddenly I notice my cock is starting to stiffen up. Darn it! I swear that thing has a mind of its own. Scott must have noticed, because he starts to massage my thigh. That only makes me harder and hotter. His massaging gets closer and closer to the object of his attention. I'm wishing I could see his, but it'll have to wait. Suddenly, I feel his hand lightly on my denim-covered dick. He traces up and down the length lightly, sending shivers through me.
"Jesse," he whispers. "If you want me to stop, just say so ok? I don't want to push you."
"Can you tell me something honestly, Scott? Do you know if you're 'safe'?" I ask. I have to know.
"Yeah. I am. I haven't been with anyone since Bill, and that was 2 years ago. I'm very careful about that too." He looks up into my eyes. "Do you want me to get checked first before we do anything?"
I think for a moment. How could I know if he's lying or not?
"Uh, I don't know." I say. His hand moves away, and he sits up. He turns so he's facing me.
"Jesse, look, I'm going to be blunt here. The thing is that I've not had a lot of luck finding someone I'm attracted to that isn't into themselves. I am looking for a mature honest person to get to know and maybe have a relationship with. You seem like an intelligent guy, and I have to say that you're a hot guy, too. So, I want to do things right. Maybe I should slow down."
He pauses. My turn. "Well, yeah. I mean, I just met you a couple of hours ago, and we have a lot in common. I'd like to get to know you better too."
He gets up and turns on the lamp. "Good. We're agreed. Let's take this slow and try actually dating. Meanwhile, how about if we both get tested, just for grins?"
Wow. I'm thinking going to the mall was a good thing tonight!!!! "OK, you're on." I ask him for a piece of paper, and I write down my cell and home numbers and my email address. He returns the favor.
"Good!" he says. "Do you want to watch TV some more?"
"Actually, I better get going. I just bought my car tonight and I better get home before it gets much darker." I reply.
He frowns slightly, not understanding why a grown man would be scared of the dark. But then he smiles and says "Ok...then I'll call you maybe tomorrow and set up a time for our first date."
"Second." I correct him. "We just had dinner, remember?"
He laughs. "OH yeah. Duh. OK, second date!" he says as he walks me to the door. I pause then lean back and kiss him on the cheek.
"I had a nice time tonight. I'll look forward to your call." I say then head for home.
When I get home, I log in to check email, and am pleasantly surprised to have an email from him.
'Hi, Jesse. Just wanted to drop you a note to tell you how much I like you so far, and that I can't wait to see you again. Feel free to write back and tell me more about yourself. Love, Scott."
"Love?" I think. Kinda early for that. But, that's a typical way to sign off a letter, I realize. It makes me feel good, though. Ah yes, but this guy will probably fuck around on you too, my inner voice says. Shut up, I think. And the feeling goes away. And as I drift off to sleep in my bed, I work hard to convince myself that Scott is not Mark. Or....could he be...?