Owen

Owen

Chapter forty-nine

By Roy Reinikainen

"YEOW!" Corey shouted, a moment before he and Jonah landed on the bedroom floor, with a whoosh of expelled breath, amidst twisted sheets and a pillow which had slid off the bed earlier. "Whoa Mama!" he laughed, as Jonah threw a bare leg over him, to hold him down. "For a scrawny guy, you're stronger than you look."

"Scrawny?!" Jonah shouted. "Seems to me this scrawny guy has you on your back. What do you say about that?"

"You mean it was my turn to bottom?" Corey laughed, a moment before he heaved Jonah off and pinned him to the floor with the weight of his body. "Now . . ." he squirmed, grinding his erection into the younger man. "Now," he repeated, "It's your turn to be the bottom!" The muscles of his bare buttocks tightened as he thrust himself against Jonah and sought, first his mouth . . . then his tongue.

"You're gonna remember what I do to you tonight," Corey groaned, as they separated.

"You said that last night," Jonah laughed. "It was nothin' special," he managed to say, around a laugh.

Corey jumped as someone loudly smacked one of his ass cheeks. "Holy . . .!" He rolled to his side, taking Jonah with him, seeking the person responsible for the slap.

"RILEY!" Corey scrambled free and stood, breathing hard. He raked his fingers through his hair and wiped Jonah's saliva from his cheeks. If he'd been wearing anything, he would have made sure his clothes weren't askew. Since he wasn't though, all he could do was check to see that he was losing his erection. When he realized both Bailey and Riley were watching him he straightened, squared his shoulders, and said, with as much dignity as possible. "I was always taught it was impolite, both, to greet people with a hard-on, and to slap a guy's bare ass, without an invitation. Otherwise . . . don't do that! You `bout scared the beejeebers outta me! Hi Bailey," he nodded to his friend, then nodded to Lucas, almost as an afterthought.

"If you'd scared the beejeebers outta him, for sure, I'd have to clean it all up . . . again," Jonah muttered, accepting Corey's hand and grinning, first at Corey, then at the newcomers, and Lucas, standing at their side.

"Hi. I'm Jonah." He extended a hand to Riley, ignoring the fact that his cheeks were still shiny from Corey's kisses, and that his erection still stood at half-mast. "Welcome back, Bailey," he added, shaking Bailey's hand. His smile and grey eyes were the twins of his older brother's. The rest of him, from his longer-than-normal brown hair, to his slender frame and . . . sizable penis, was anything but similar. His smile faltered, as he glanced down at his groin. "What? You guys never seen a couple of naked men before?" he laughed. "Or, are you both men of few words!" He turned at Corey's amused snort.

"Riley? A man of few words? Ha!" Corey barked a laugh. "It's just he and Bailey have never seen such a wonderful specimen of manhood before, my handsome lover." He possessively snaked an arm around Jonah's waist, the muscles of his biceps flexing as he pulled Jonah close.

"He means, hung," Lucas muttered.

"Damn!" Bailey finally tore his eyes away from Jonah's cock, which now hung in a thick curve over his scrotum. "I'm surprised you don't pass out, whenever you get hard. I'd think it'd take so much blood to pump that thing up, your brain would surely not have enough to keep you conscious."

"And, since Corey's a confirmed bottom," Riley began.

"Hey!" Corey laughed. "After meeting Jonah, I only walked funny for the first couple weeks! And, I'm not a bottom all the time."

"Guys!" Jonah complained, furiously blushing. "Stop it, already!"

"That's what I scream," Corey added, in a droll tone. "But, does he listen?" He glanced at Jonah and raised his hands in surrender. "Okay, okay. We'll stop. We're just admiring you, that's all."

"There's plenty to admire," Riley added, with a sparkle in his pale green eyes.

"It's all the product of genetics," Lucas added.

"I'm a product of genetics," Bailey laughed, "and . . ." He mimicked Corey, holding his hands up, letting Jonah know he'd stop his comments. "It's good to . . . ahem . . . see . . . you again, Jonah. Oh, and you too, Corey," he added, as an afterthought, as the corners of his lips twitched upward.

As one, they all turned toward the open door to the apartment, and the loud voices, and sounds of someone running up the stairs.

"Bailey!" Owen called, bursting into the room, followed by Sam, a step behind. Owen took his friend into his arms and pulled him close. "Welcome! Welcome back!" He gave the surprised man a quick kiss on the lips then held him at arm's length. Damn, but you're looking good! Art . . . the barber, told me you guys were in town. I'm sorry I missed you." He held Bailey at arm's length, then drew him back into a brief hug, followed by another kiss. "Geez, you look good!"

Owen released Bailey and turned to Riley, extending a hand. "And, you must be Riley! Welcome," he smiled broadly, his grey eyes sparkling. "After listening to Bailey, and Corey, I feel as if I already know you!

"Oh!" He looked over his shoulder and held out a hand, drawing the slender black-haired man close. "I almost forgot. Riley, this is Sam. He and Lucas are the two most important men in my life. Sam smiled and shook Riley's hand, letting Owen do the talking. "The rest of you guys run a close second, but," he smiled, pulling both Sam and Lucas close, "No one can mean more'n these two.

He nodded toward the two naked men. "I assume you've already met my show-off of a brother, and the guy who sorta walks funny and seems to always be grinning."

"I'd grin too," Riley murmured. "Sorry," he apologized, looking anything but sorry as he stole another glance at Jonah's groin.

"Hi Owen," Corey smiled, brightly, possessively drawing Jonah close to him.

"It's good to see you again, Sam," Bailey said, embracing the slender, black-haired man. "Sam and I have been working on a project together," he explained, turning to the men standing nearby. "We've spoken on the phone, daily, yet we've never had an opportunity to get to know one another, face-to-face. I hope to change that during our visit."

"Well," Riley looked around the apartment. "Now that we all know one another, isn't it time to follow our host's lead and get nekkid?"

"Yeah . . . naked is good!" Owen smiled

"If you're intending to get naked, right away," Lucas spoke up, "Maybe you should head over to your room at the bed and breakfast." He cast an unsure look in Bailey's direction as Riley stripped off his shirt. He'd already toed off his shoes. Bailey shrugged a silent answer to Lucas' comment.

"Ahhh," Riley smiled, as he ran his hands over his bare chest, then flopped onto one of the room's leather sofas, spread his legs and stretched his arms along the back of the sofa. "I hope you don't mind me making myself at home," he grinned ingenuously, glancing around at the men. "I'll save getting naked for later."

"You'll have to get dressed to go back to where we're staying."

Riley made a dismissive gesture. "Nah . . . we'll wait until it's dark. Anyone who sees me will write me off as being one of Lucas' degenerate friends."

"You misunderstand," Bailey said, his voice uncharacteristically firm. "Lucas does not need anyone in this small town assuming his friends are degenerate. We're here to visit, not cause a scene which Lucas and the guys will have to deal with, after we've left."

Riley sobered and casually saluted. "You're right, Gen'rl." He turned to his host. "I'm sorry for behaving in such a cavalier manner, Lucas. It's not my intention to cause any of you guys problems. Sometimes Bailey has to get stern and shove me back into line, otherwise this mouth of mine can get me into trouble. I've been told by the Gen'rl, here," he nodded toward Bailey, who joined him on the sofa, "that sometimes I can be as popular as a French kiss at a family reunion."

"Bailey said that?"

"I learned it from Corey!" Bailey interjected, as if to distance himself from what he'd said. "I didn't make it up on my own!" He grinned. "I've discovered that I have a bad habit."

"Just one?" Corey snickered.

"No, two, but we don't talk about the other one in polite company." Everyone looked around, wondering which person in the room might be considered polite company. "Anyhow," Bailey continued, before anyone could say anything. "I seem to soak up these sayings, and they manifest themselves at the most inopportune times. Last week, I had the misfortune to tell Mother that I was confused as a baby in a topless bar." He made a face, recalling his mother's shocked expression. "I swear! You guys are terrible influences." He grinned, crossed his arms, and sat back, looking smug. "I love it."

"Oh . . . Sam!" Bailey stood in the shade of an oak tree and examined his building from the sidewalk. "It is absolutely stunning! You've done a wonderful job. From your descriptions, I knew it would be beautiful, but . . ." he shook his head in wonder, "You've made it into so much more than I imagined it could be."

He turned to Sam who was almost bouncing with excitement. "May we?" Bailey asked, gesturing toward the building, which sat back from the town's main street, fronting a lush green lawn, shaded by a ubiquitous oak. A deep porch supported by crisply painted white columns shaded the dark red brick walls of the building. Between each of the columns hung pots overflowing with pale yellow flowers.

"Those flowers are special to Owen n'me," Sam explained, as Bailey paused a moment to inhale their heady honey-scented fragrance. The entry, dividing the porch in half, was centered on a squat tower, its red metal pitched roof matching that of the building. In the center of the tower, the space for the building's name sat empty, just as the building did, neither hinting at what the structure would eventually contain.

Inside, the air was heavy with the scents of newly applied varnish and hand-rubbed wax woodwork which shone with dappled sunlight, streaming through the continuous row of large windows looking out onto the porch.

Bailey hurried from room to room, his excitement growing with each new discovery. "Oh, Sam! It is all so beautiful. You've transformed a nice building into something wondrous." He drew Sam into a quick embrace, and kissed him on the cheek, then backed away wearing a concerned expression. "I hope I haven't overstepped myself by doing that, but I can't tell you how pleased I am with everything you've done."

As the two men left the building, Sam couldn't help but notice how Bailey lovingly ran his fingertips over the carving of the newly installed door. Sam asked the meaning of the carved scroll, unrolling to reveal the word, "Clio."

Bailey smiled as he hitched a hip onto the low railing and idly swung a leg. "You've heard of the muses?" he asked. When Sam nodded, he continued. "Clio is the muse of history and learning. This building embodies the gifts the muse Clio gave the world."

Sam's brows rose. "He'll love it."

"I hope they'll both love it," Bailey said, giving Sam one of his enigmatic smiles. He held up a hand. "You'll find out soon enough," he laughed. "You have to allow me a few secrets."

"You're full of secrets, my friend," Sam muttered, as he perched on the porch's railing at Bailey's side.

Across the street, Sally's restaurant was doing a booming business, its diners spilling out onto a shaded brick paved plaza. People sat on wrought iron chairs, beneath green and white striped umbrellas, enjoying their breakfast. Laughter was as common as the flags, hanging from the buildings, commemorating the approaching Independence Day celebrations.

"He hides his dissatisfaction well," Bailey said, staring, unseeing, into the distance. It wasn't necessary to use Owen's name. Both he and Sam knew who was spoken of. "He's made up his mind, hasn't he?"

Sam bowed his head and nodded. "He told Lucas and me that he promised you he wouldn't make any irrevocable decisions until after your visit. As far as I know, he's honored his word, but . . . yes, he's intending to leave. The decision is tearing him up inside. It's hard on me, and I have some inkling of what you're planning. It's been really hard on Lucas. He's throwing himself into work, and generally making a nuisance of himself at the greenhouse construction site." Sam grinned. "Jonah told me he had to take Lucas aside and tell him to ease up on the workers. Owen's mother and sisters know something's going on, and all this is making things tougher for Owen. He really hates it when he's the source of any sort of problem. But, he's made up his mind, and he seems determined to follow through."

"Well, we'll have to see what we can do to change his mind, then, won't we?" Bailey grinned, gently slapping Sam on the back. "Things'll turn out well. Never fear. As soon as Lucas' and my folks show up, we'll be ready."

Riley gently knocked on the door frame to the apartment's bedroom. "Hello? May I come in?" he gestured toward the apartment's front door. "The door was open, so . . . I assumed."

Owen looked up from where he sprawled in one of the large chairs. One muscled leg was thrown over one of the chair's arms, the other leg stretched out. Morning light streamed into the room through the huge window which overlooked the town's main street. Owen's smile was friendly, yet, somehow sad. "Of course! Come in!" He gestured to the unmade bed. "You'll have to forgive the bed. The guys had to get to work. I get to make the bed and clean the house. I guess I've been sittin' here, feeling sorry for myself. I intended to head to the shower, but . . . I haven't found the will to move." His smile brightened. "It's good to have someone to talk with. Where's Bailey?"

Riley slipped off his shoes and clambered onto the bed, where he crossed his legs and studied the underwear-clad blond man. "He's out shaking hands with the local politicos. Those were his words. I'm wondering how many politicos a town the size of Riverton has, anyhow."

Owen thought for a moment. "One. The mayor. I wonder why Bailey wants to meet with him?"

Riley shrugged. "What's that a photograph of?" he asked, nodding to the picture Owen had been idly rubbing with a thumb.

"Oh, it's nothing special. Just a picture of Sammy n'me." Owen lapsed into silence, then looked up. "I take that back. It is something special." He glanced at the photograph. "Very special. It was taken just before I left to go to school. He gave it to me, on the day I left, askin' me to keep it to remember him by."

"He wasn't sure you'd be coming back?" Riley asked, in a gentle voice.

Owen scratched his neck. "I wasn't sure either. Now . . . I'm wonderin' if I should have . . . come back, that is," he said, then looked away.

"Why would you say that? It seems to me as if you have everything."

Owen softly snorted. "I have happiness, if that's what you mean. I'm in a loving relationship with two wonderful men. My mother, brother, and sisters are here. I'm surrounded by friends, in a place I love."

"But?" Riley prompted.

"I'm still that square peg tryin' to fit into a round hole, I described myself as being, just before I left. I have everything, lovers, family, friends . . . everything. Yet, I'm feelin' useless. I want to do something, Riley . . . something which will give meaning to my life. I want to understand the world. I want knowledge. I want to help others realize that, while the world is vast, Riverton, as small as it is, is . . . a . . . wonderful place. It is a place, so unlike the city. It is a place to feel free, to breathe clean air. It's a place where, when you're standing at the edge of an undulating field of grain, it's like you can almost see forever. The place is open. The people are open. I love it, with all my being, yet, as important as all these things are, I also need to feel . . . fulfilled. I need to contribute to the welfare of those around me. I need to be able to make a living, so I'm not feeling like some sorta sponge, soaking up Lucas' good will and giving nothing back. I'm losing my self respect."

"And, this photograph means . . . what? You obviously treasure it."

Owen heaved a sigh. "I guess it represents a simpler time, a time of fewer choices. The world was pretty much Sammy n'me. Things were . . . easier."

"Owen," Riley murmured. "I only know a bit of what your life was like, before you left Riverton to go to school, and I do not think, by any stretch of the imagination, one could call that life easier, or simpler. The choices you had to make only look easier in retrospect, just as the choices and decisions you currently face will, by this time next year, not seem nearly so daunting."

"You and Bailey seem good together," Owen said, changing the subject. "He's had it hard. You'll be good for him."

"Just as you have been?"

Owen shrugged. "Bailey chooses to give me more credit for the changes he's made in himself than he should. All I did was listen to him, and offer my friendship."

"All? ALL?!" Riley's voice rose. "That's like saying all you did was throw a life preserver to a drowning man! Of course Bailey has worked hard to be where he is. Damned hard. But you are the reason he worked hard. You are the reason he wanted to. You are the model he compares himself with. You are the person he emulates. You are the person he loves, more than any other person in the world. You!"

Riley scooted to the edge of the bed. "Owen, you are too hard on yourself. Of course you want to feel useful. Of course you don't want to sponge off of Lucas. But, do not ever pretend that your being has no meaning. You, my friend, change people's lives by your everyday actions. You listen, and by listening, you let other people know that you value their existence. Yet here you sit, telling me what you do isn't important. You shouldn't do that. Because, my friend, when you attempt to make your efforts seem less significant than they really are, you trivialize what all those who know you do when they daily strive to be a person worthy of your love."

"But . . ."

Riley cut Owen's thought off with a sharp gesture. "You are like a spider, Owen. You are the person that holds this whole place together. All Art and his friend Millie could speak of was you. The guys . . . Lucas, Sam, your brother . . . Corey . . . They look to you, if not for approval, for a smile, or something. Your opinions are valued. You are valued. Hell I can feel it, and I've known you for less than a day. Why do you think Bailey could hardly wait to return to Riverton?

"It's not because of that building of his. It's because he wanted to see you. Why do you think Lucas' parents, and Bailey's parents are coming? They want to see Riverton, of course, and their son, but they also want to see their unofficial son . . . you. The changes you wrought in Lucas, are not as striking as those in Bailey, but they are, according to his mother, significant. And, believe me, after meeting the daunting Olivia Horton once, one realizes she does not use words like, significant, casually. That woman means business!"

Owen smiled. "You're different than some of the stories I heard about you . . . more serious."

"I can be many things, Owen. I am the dutiful son, up to a point. I can be the rich playboy or the backcountry Southern boy who pokes fun at people who are too full of themselves. I can be serious or irreverent. But . . . even with all those things I can be, I could never hope to have people look up to me as they do to you."

Riley softly snorted. "On the way out here, Bailey casually wondered how long it would take before I fell under your spell. I can let him know it took less than a single day. Now . . ." he scooted off the bed and took Owen's hand, pulling him out of the easy chair. "Give me a hug, then throw on some shorts, and let's go get something to eat. I wanna hear all `bout growing up in Riverton."

"Neil!" Olivia Horton called. "The taxi is here. The meter is ticking, and most importantly, I am waiting. We'e going to a small town, not the country club! There is absolutely no need for three large bags, full of clothes and stuff to do your hair." The taxi driver grinned as the diminutive woman impatiently tapped her foot and frowned at her sheepishly grinning husband. He took the man's three bags and placed them in the trunk of he taxi, next to the woman, single . . . small . . . bag.

When they'd settled in the back seat and were away from home Olivia spoke. "I think Bailey is doing a wonderful thing."

"Don't forget George or Louise, or us. We've all played a role in this venture."

"Only because it is such a large endeavor, Bailey couldn't swing it on his own. He would have if he could have, you know?" Neil Horton nodded agreement. "I'm glad we were able to contribute. Owen means a great deal to me, and to you as well."

"He'll be pleased," Neil grinned, anticipating Owen's reaction.

"He'll be dumbfounded, is more like it," Olivia grinned. "I can hardly wait."

"There." Riley held Owen at arms' length and smiled, encouragingly. "Y'feeling better?" He grinned, intensely aware of the feel of the firm muscles beneath his fingers. Owen's boyish smile appeared, faltered, then grew, as if he too felt the spark of excitement the brief hug had caused. "As for me . . ." Riley murmured, "I always feel better after hugging a hunky man dressed in his underwear."

He grinned as he ran a forefinger over Owen's nose. "Y'know, these freckles are damned sexy." He drew the blushing Owen into another brief embrace, then released him, as if releasing a fantasy he knew could never be fulfilled. "So . . . now that I've let you go, are you ready to get dressed, so we can eat?"

"Um, I've gotta shower first," Owen said, turning towards the bathroom. "You can stay, if you want," he called, over his shoulder. "I won't take but a couple minutes."

"Great! I'll watch!" Riley followed Owen into the bathroom, stopping briefly at the door, captivated by the sight of Owen as he skinned out of his underwear. Owen's tanned shoulders tapered to a narrow waist, and the flawless, white, skin of his buttocks.

Owen, noticing the sudden quiet, stood, turned to Riley, and grinned. "Looks like y'caught me with my pants down," he laughed, then held his arms wide and turned around, as if for inspection. "Y'like what you see?" Instead of waiting for an answer, Owen stepped into the shower enclosure and turned on the water.

"Did anyone ever tell you that you're an exhibitionist?" Riley shouted over the sound of the shower. Owen laughed and wiggled his butt from side to side, as the spray played over his body.

"At one time or another, everyone I know, except for my sisters, have said that about me," he shouted, as he began soaping himself. "So . . . I'm guessin' they must be right."

"You're feeling a lot better than when I showed up," Riley observed. "I love the laugh."

"I am feelin' better. Thanks!" he said, as soap suds coursed down his legs. "Being nekkid is always good, of course, but it's also great to have someone to visit with. I don't take being alone, very well, I guess. I've got an inferiority complex, y'see . . . and not a very good one." He grinned, as he finished rinsing, then turned off the water. "Being alone let's me do too much thinking." He looked up and smiled. "Then, I start lookin' for subliminal messages in ice cubes, or something."

"Ice cubes?" Riley barked.

"Yeah," Owen laughed, "It's a gift. What can I say?" he grinned, stepping from the shower, catching a towel Riley tossed to him.

"You're a crazy man, Owen!"

"Thanks. I like you too." He ducked away from Riley. "Hey! Watch it! You'll mess up my hair!"

"Mess it up? I was wondering if you were gonna comb it before being seen in public."

"Comb it? If I did that, people wouldn't recognize me, now, would they? We can't have that," Owen laughed, as he trotted past Riley, and into the bedroom. He slipped a t-shirt over his head, raking his fingers through his hair, then tugged on a pair of shorts.

"C'mon!" he shouted. "Grab your shoes and let's head out." He knelt to tie his tennis shoes while Riley slipped into his loafers. "We gotta hurry before the restaurant runs outta food."

"I tell you, Bea," Daniel sighed, as he helped with the dinner dishes. "Maxine's looking to cause major trouble. Till now, she's been an annoyance. She's becoming bolder in her attacks."

"Why? What's happened?" Bea dried her hands and turned to her husband, wearing a worried expression. "It's not Owen, is it? He's got enough on his mind."

"No, not Owen . . . Corey, and, we both know that's almost as bad. Sometimes those two boys seem to me as if they're holding themselves together by sheer strength of will." Daniel smiled. "I am pleased though, to learn that the boy's not going to roll over and play dead."

"What'd Maxine do? Is Corey okay?"

Daniel smiled, hoping to diminish his wife's worry. "He's doing fine. In fact, he was laughing and joking. But, both of us know dealing with Maxine, in any capacity, is a nasty business. She's feeling as if she's got enough support for her nastiness that she's no longer content to call people names behind their back. Now, she wants an audience to spew her anger."

"What'd she do?" Bea stared into the distance. "Poor Corey."

Daniel took a deep breath.

"Don't sugar coat it for me, Daniel," Bea warned. "What'd she do?"

"Well . . . I heard most of this from Sally, since this happened outside her restaurant." Bea nodded encouragingly. "It seems Corey was sitting at one of the tables, out on that patio of hers, reading a story to a few children while their parents were inside, having lunch. Well, you know how children are. There was lots of laughing and squealing. Apparently, that drew Maxine's attention.

"According to Sally, the first she knew anything was wrong was when Maxine threw open the door to the restaurant and screamed that there was a child molester on the loose, and didn't the uncaring parents hear when their children were screaming for help."

Bea brought her hand to her mouth. "Oh . . . dear."

"Well, of course, the restaurant emptied in a rush. According to Sally, Maxine was all red and shaking as she pointed toward Corey and the children who were all looking on wide-eyes with no clue as to what was going on."

"`Tell your folks what he was tryin' to do to you,' Sally said, Maxine screeched, pointing at a little boy who was sitting next to Corey."

"`Readin' us a story,' the boy said. "He was talking funny and we were laughing. He looked toward his parents. Were we makin' too much noise?" Daniel laughed, as he described how the boy looked from Maxine, to his parents, then to Corey, obviously without a clue what was happening.

"Sally even had to laugh as one of the little girls, sitting across the table from Corey piped up. Yeah, Mama,' Sally laughed, describing Maxine's expression as the little girl went on enthusiastically. Mister Corey's reading us a book about a talking dog. He's a good teacher.'

"Well . . . apparently, everyone got really quiet, except for Maxine, who, according to Sally, was spitting and sputtering. It all was apparently too much for the mother of one of the children. From what Sally said, the woman rounded on Maxine and stood nose-to-nose with her. You lie,' the woman said. You lie vilely.' When she, her husband, and the others turned to go back inside, Maxine could hold back no longer."

"Are you gonna let those kids stay outside with that . . . that . . . person?"

"Of course the children can stay to hear the end of the story,' Sally told me one of the children's father's responded. Unless, of course, you're going to stay. Then, we'll invite the young man to join us inside, so we can all hear the story of the talking dog.'

"According to Sally, Maxine stormed off. But, she was smiling,' Sally told me. I can't figure out why she was smiling.'"

"She planted the seed of distrust," Bea answered, in a worried voice. "Now, all she needs to do is water the seed and wait for it to grow, so she can harvest the fruits of what she has begun."

"My psychology professors would never have couched what she did in agricultural terms," Daniel said, in a dry voice, "But, the result is essentially the same."

"You know, of course, that her antics were also intended to make Corey second guess his behavior. She wants him to be fearful of his every action. She wants him to believe people will be watching him, whether they are, or not. But . . . Daniel . . ."

He nodded, knowing what Bea had already concluded. "This is only the opening volley in a war of innuendo. All Maxine needs to do is convince one person that Corey is doing something improper, and . . . who knows what will happen."

"She doesn't care about Corey though," Bea said, as she sank to a chair at the kitchen table. "Corey's not important to her for any other reason than he is a means of attacking you, me, and our family. We are the real targets . . . especially you and me."

Corey made a dismissive gesture. "Bah! That woman's a mean spirited bully, nothing more. "Hell, I'd hire her to haunt a house." He turned to his friends who had gathered at Lucas', Sam's and Owen's, for dinner, and had listened to the story of what had happened at the restaurant with quiet alarm. "Y'know, back home, folks would say that she's got enough wrinkles to hold an eight day rain. And, her hair!" he added, falling into his story mode. Her hair," he repeated, rolling his eyes, trying to make light of the pain he felt at the personal attack he'd suffered.

"Leave it to a gay man to recognize a bad hair day, but sheesh . . . her hair looks like a cat's been suckin' on it, for pity sake." He laughed, messing his own hair, in imitation of the town's sour-faced grocer."

"But . . ." Owen began.

Corey held up a restraining hand. "I know, Owen. I know. And, I am not going to let that woman win. She thinks she can hurt me by casting doubt on my integrity. The only weapon I have with which to counter her attacks is to show everyone that I am a man of principles. I can only go on as I have been, and let public opinion fall where it may. I hope . . . I believe, the public will see me for what I am, and see Maxine for what she is."

Corey squeezed Jonah's hand, acknowledging his silent support. "Now," he scanned his somber friends. "You guys can't change anything, so don't you all start behaving any differently, okay? Let Maxine stew in her own juices. None of us have done anything wrong. We can't start actin' as if we have. Besides . . ." he grinned, "I'm not taking Maxine's attack lying down. This is only the beginning, I'm thinking. She doesn't know it yet, but, if she continues messin' with me, she'll find out she's barking up the wrong tree."

Riley turned onto his stomach and snuggled closer to Bailey. Both men knew Corey well enough to know that he was putting a brave face on what he was actually feeling.

"Here, I thought that a place like Riverton was somehow above the type of behavior we heard of at dinner." Riley sighed, laying his head on Bailey's chest.

"Corey's right though," Bailey murmured, as he toyed with Riley's short hair. "None of us can do the slightest thing which would lend credence to that woman's accusations. I felt so bad for him, yet he's right. There's nothing he or any of us can do to change things. Yet, I wish I could punch something. For someone to call Corey's morals into question . . . makes my blood boil. To even . . . suggest . . . that he might harm a child!"

"Easy, Gen'rl," Riley murmured. "Allowing our blood to boil, as you so precisely put it, will do Corey no good. He's right. What he needs to do . . . what all of his friends need to do . . . is to carry on, as normal. He . . . we . . . need to be aware of what is going on, but trying to anticipate where another attack will come from, or what form it might take, is pointless. Corey's not alone. People who know him know slander when they hear it."

"Yeah," Bailey grumbled, unwilling to be calmed so easily. "What about those people who don't know Corey? What will they think?"

Riley sighed. "We can only hope they are bright enough to think before allowing someone like that woman, sway their behavior."

"Hope seems to be a pretty nebulous thing on which to base one's future," Bailey muttered."

"Yeah, but hope, good humor, and honesty are the only weapons, Corey has with which to fight."

Owen heaved a sigh as he and Jonah walked home from their mother's. "It's nice to be away from the excitement for a while," he said. "I think even Bailey and Riley wanted to be alone for a bit, otherwise why drive over to Evanston, just for something to eat? I guess the two of `em could be over there to meet Bailey's folks. They're supposed to arrive tomorrow."

Jonah shrugged. "Who knows? I don't know Bailey all that well, but he seems to be goin' round town lookin' awfully smug about something. I asked Riley, and all I got was a shrug, and a `Don't ask me. I don't know what goes through that man's mind.'"

"How's Corey doing?" Owen turned to his brother, not missing the fleeting frown which briefly colored his face. "Things have been pretty quiet over at your place, since he told us about ol' Maxine. Quiet is unusual. We're accustomed to hearing lots of shrieks and stuff."

"Truly?" Jonah asked, wide-eyed. "I knew we got loud, from time to time, but . . . Do we bother you guys? We're that bad?"

Owen laughed. "Naw. We're not bothered. In fact, we sometimes try to figure out exactly what you guys are doing." Owen's smile faded. "I hope you do whatever it is, away from any prying eyes. That's all Corey needs is to have someone claiming he's showing off. We've even started trying to stay away from those big front windows unless we're sorta reasonably dressed. But . . . what about Corey?"

Jonah lazily shrugged, stooping down to pick up a small stone, which he tossed into the underbrush. "He's doin' better than he was a couple days ago. That first day was sorta rough for him. Considering his background, any hint of any sort of abuse makes him freak. He starts askin' himself what he's done . . . is it possible that he did something and was unaware of it?

"Y'know, he's one of those touchy-feely sorta guys. He wants to hug everyone. Hell, he even hugged Art, the other day. Kinda made Art sputter a bit. He told me that he never touched any of those children, at the restaurant. He'd had breakfast and was sitting in the patio, looking at a few books he got from the library, wonderin' how he could use them whenever he gets a teaching job.

"The kids had asked their folks if they could go to the park to play on the swings, but, when they saw Corey, and the books he was looking at, they asked if they stayed, could he read one to them. Corey said, he asked one of the little girls to go back inside the restaurant and tell their folks that they were right outside, instead of at the park.

"What caused all the commotion, and I guess what drew Maxine's attention, was a lot of squealing n'stuff. Corey was playing the part of the different characters, using some of his outrageous voices, really playing up his accent. The kids loved it and were making quite a bit of noise. Corey said he didn't think it'd be a problem since there weren't any other people having their breakfast, outside."

"He's doin' better though?" Owen asked.

"Yeah, I guess. At least he slept right through, last night. Maybe it was `cause he was so pooped from not sleeping well before. Who knows. I'm glad Bailey and Riley invited him to go with them to Evanston. It gives him a change of scenery, and he and the guys can laugh and carry on without fear that Maxine is lookin' over their shoulder. Besides, Corey mentioned some sort of meeting." Another shrug.

"Mama and Daniel believe Maxine isn't really interested in Corey. Do you know anything about that?" Owen asked.

Jonah sighed, reaching out to rub his brother's back, taking comfort, as always, in being close. "Yeah, I figure Maxine's real target is Daniel, first, and Mama, second. Corey, Lucas, you, me, and Sam, are just a means to get to Mama and Daniel."

"Why, Daniel? Is there something I don't know about? Something which happened when I was away at school?"

"Scuttlebutt is that Maxine believed that Daniel, since he wasn't married, was hers. She'd told the women `round town to keep away. Of course, Daniel didn't know any of this. When she propositioned him, he turned her down. Her pride was wounded. Knowin' Daniel, I'm sure he was polite n'all, but . . . we know how Maxine is."

"She is full of pride," Owen commented, "but has very little to be proud of."

Jonah grinned and moved closer, snaking an arm around his brother's waist, as they slowly walked down the gravel road. "`Course the reason Daniel wasn't interested in Maxine, other than the fact that she's Maxine, was that he was interested in Mama." Jonah rubbed his neck and made a face.

"Geez, that doesn't sound good does it? It sounds like the two of `em were sneaking around behind Pops' back, or something. Mama would never do that. Neither would Daniel, but . . . he . . . liked Mama, a lot. He was sorta lookin' out after her, seein' that Pops didn't do anything to hurt Mama or the girls.

"Well, when Pops died and Mama and Daniel started seeing one another, Maxine had had enough. She started tellin' people that she believed Mama had driven Pops to suicide with her wanton ways."

"WHAT! Wanton ways?! Mama?"

"Easy, Owen. I'm just tellin' you what I've heard, both from Daniel and other folk, who happened to overhear ol' Maxine proposition Daniel."

"So . . . this is all personal? Her vanity has been wounded."

"Looks like."

"Well . . . I'm steamin!" Owen grumbled, totally out of character. "If she says anything like that around me I'll smack the fire outta her. Knock her into the next county . . . I will."

Jonah laughed and pulled his older brother close, until they were walking shoulder-to-shoulder. "I love it when you start actin' all macho." He lowered his voice. "It happens so seldom."

Owen merely snorted his amusement.

"I'm gonna miss you, Owen," Jonah murmured. "In fact, I don't know what I'm gonna do when you're gone. The first time was bad enough. We're closer now, so it's gonna make it all more rough. I'm all bummed imagining not being able to hold you like this, or to laugh with you. I thought jerking off out there on the river that time, was hotter n'hell. I've been hopin' we could do it again. As much as I love Corey, I still want to be with you . . . you know, skin-to-skin . . . feelin' you on top of me, kissin' n'all." He snorted. "Sounds like I'm only thinking of sex, but that's not it. Bein' together with you, like that, is something so . . . special. I just can't . . . imagine not bein' able to hug you, and hold your hand n'stuff.

He stopped walking and turned away. "Dammit, Owen!" He swiped at his eyes. "I'm gonna cry." He quickly turned to his brother and drew him into a fierce hug. "Do you have'ta go? I know you haven't told anyone that's what you're gonna do, but I'm right, aren't I? You're intending to leave."

"Everything and everyone I love is here," Owen murmured, holding his brother and feeling Jonah's tears wet his t-shirt. "But, I need to grow. I need to do something. You've got something important to do . . . a reason to get up in the morning. Lucas and Sam are he same. What you all are doing is important. That's true of Corey too, once he gets a teaching job. But . . . me? I have to force myself to leave the apartment. There's nothin' for me here, Jonah, other than everything and everyone I love. I guess, as much as I hate it, I'm sayin' I need something more'n that."

"Well," Jonah sniffed. "I hate it! Maybe, if all of us put our heads together, we could come up with something which would be worth your getting out of bed for . . . other'n breakfast, I mean," he said, with another sniff, and a bleary-eyed grin. "It's not that easy though, is it?"

Owen shook his head. "No. No . . . it's not."

"I'm a wreck, Sam!" Lucas leaned back against the sofa, welcoming Sam's comforting presence, and the arm resting on his shoulders. "No matter how hard I try, I can't concentrate. All I'm thinking about his what life's gonna be like without Owen."

"And, what Owen's life is gonna be like without you, me, and all the rest," Sam added.

"Yeah." Lucas heaved a sigh. "Sometimes, he seems like a little boy in need of protecting. I've sorta gotten to enjoy providing some of that protection. I imagine the same is true of you."

Sam softly snorted. "On one hand, Owen is in control of . . . everything. He sees things, going right to the core. On the other hand, he's . . . clueless. He . . ." Sam squirmed discomfited by his thoughts. "He's just a little boy. I think that, since his father died, Owen's finally gotten to behave like the little boy he never was able to be. He was always so serious, growing up.

"He's still got that in him, but now . . . he laughs and teases and jumps around almost as much as his little friend, Nicky. He's just a little boy, in a sexy adult body."

"Damn right, about the body part," Lucas mumbled.

"I can't leave, Sam. Even if he does, I can't. I've got too much going on here. I can't just pick up and leave. I just can't," Lucas choked, then turned to Sam. "What are we gonna do, when he's not here?"

"I'm gonna hate myself. I just know I am," Sam muttered.

"What? Hate yourself? Why? Because of Owen not being here?"

Sam reached for Lucas' hand and gently squeezed. "Owen won't be leavin', Lucas. Once Bailey finishes with him, there'll no place he'd rather be than Riverton." Sam flopped back and tilted his head back, looking at the ceiling. "I've just broken a confidence . . . to keep you from torturing yourself. Don't ask me anything more . . . please, and please don't let on . . . to anyone . . . that I've said as much as I have. You are the only person I've said anything to. Hell, I haven't even hinted to Bea that things'll be okay, so . . . don't make me regret what I've just done, okay?"

He quickly looked over his shoulder, toward the open door to the apartment. "Geez, what a thought! It'd be my luck to have Owen hanging around, right outside the door, listenin' to me spill the beans." He covered his eyes with a hand. "I hope I won't regret what I've done."

Lucas raised Sam's free hand to his lips and tenderly kissed it. "Sam . . . thank you," he murmured.

"Like little Nicky said, we're a team. I can't let a teammate, and one of the men I love, worry himself to death, now can I? I just wish someone would light a fire under Bailey to make him move a little faster. His dawdling is causing everyone, grief."

~ to be continued ~

Thank you for taking the time to read my work. I always welcome your email and enjoy hearing your thoughts. If you would like me to send you a pic of the character(s), please ask.

If you have enjoyed this story, you might also like to read, Phalen, also in the Gay College Section..