Phalen

Phalen - Reputation and Honor

Chapter 14

By Roy Reinikainen

Dani shook Coach Bowen's hand, and took the seat across from the imposing figure. "Thank you for seeing me, Coach. As I mentioned, when I scheduled this interview, I've been assigned to cover the dismissal of Coach Cline, for the school newspaper.

The coach shook his head. "It's a sad day whenever I have to dismiss someone, especially family." He looked up. "You knew he was my nephew?"

Dani shook his head, wearing a rueful smile. "I'm sorry. I don't follow baseball. In fact, until I had to do a story about gymnastics, I wasn't a fan of that sport either." He grinned. "Maybe, after this interview, I'll become a fan of baseball."

Coach Bowen laughed. "Let's hope. We've got some fine young men on the team. Perhaps you might like to interview one of them for a story." He shook his head. "We could use some good publicity. Having to fire my own nephew was one of the most difficult things I've ever had to do." He grinned, sadly. "It's also made life difficult whenever I'm around some members of the family."

"Are you able to speak about why the coach was dismissed, what his plans are now . . . that sort of thing?"

"Unfortunately," the coach shook his head, "I can't . . . for a number of reasons. First, according to University policy, I can't discuss personnel matters. I can discuss the search for a new assistant coach . . . that sort of thing, but not anything having to do with existing or ex-University employees. I'm not trying to get out of giving you an interview, Dani, I just can't discuss things." He made a face. "Even if I could, I don't think I'd want to. Y'see, Jackson and I have always been very close. He's my wife's sister's son . . ." Coach Bowen paused, concerned by the sudden change in the young man sitting across the desk from him.

"Are you ill, son? Can I get you something? You've gone all white."

"You . . ." Dani cleared his throat, trying to work moisture into a mouth gone suddenly dry. "You . . . said . . . Jackson? Your nephew's name is Jackson? The coach you fired?"

"Yes . . ." Coach Bowen drug out the word, as a chill rippled up and down his spine like pins and needles of returning sensation. 'Please don't let it be any more bad news,' he thought to himself. 'I don't know how I'll be able to burden Mary with any more bad news, or Betty, her sister. Betty can be a bullying, bossy, old grouch, but she is my wife's sister, and when things don't involve her family, she can be pleasant. Since she learned that I fired Jackson . . . and that he's in custody, she's been . . . nasty.' Tension thickened the air as the coach waited for what his guest had to say.

The young man's color had, if anything, become worse. He had bowed his head and was trying to control a sudden onslaught of trembling. "Are you sure you sure you're okay?"

Dani angrily shook his head once, regaining control of his breathing. "No . . . I'm not okay," he croaked. "You, coach, have just given me the final piece of a puzzle I've been searching for." A humorless puff of a laugh escaped his lips.

"Oh?" Coach Bowen responded, warily."

"Is your first name Ed?" Dani asked.

The coach hesitated. "Yes," he finally managed, knowing that somehow this young man's sudden change in behavior had something to do with his nephew. 'Will it ever end?' he asked himself, while the young man across the desk wearily rubbed his closed eyes, shaking his head all the while.

"Did you give your . . . nephew," Dani had a difficult time being civil. After all, the tired looking man sitting across the desk from him was not responsible for his brother's death. "Did you give your nephew a bracelet for his graduation? It was inscribed with the phrase, 'Jackson, Happy Graduation, Ed.' Did you give him that bracelet?" Dani was having trouble controlling his breathing. It was as if he had run a race.

"How did you know about that bracelet?"

"You gave it to him?"

The coach nodded, the chill feeling of dread, worsening.

"Coach, I hate to tell you this, but I found that bracelet among my twin brother's belongings. I . . . I believe your . . . nephew . . . was directly responsible for my brother taking his own life."

Coach Bowen felt as if someone had kicked him in the stomach. 'Jackson . . . responsible . . . for someone killing themselves? I know the newspapers have been looking for clues. I knew it was a possibility but . . .' He covered his face and inhaled a ragged breath.

"I've been trying to make sense of what I found," Dani continued. "Initially, I had a bracelet with a name, but I had nothing more to go on. Then, a few weeks ago, a man confronted me, close to this building. He stopped me, thinking I was Denis, my twin. I told him he'd made a mistake, that Denis was . . . dead, but he refused to believe me.

"He and my brother had had some sort of affair, which left Denis despondent. I knew something was happening, but my brother wouldn't, or couldn't tell me about what was going on. I don't know why. Everyone knew Denis was gay. He didn't have to hide that. I don't know what hold your nephew had over my brother, but it must have been strong.

"When I met him . . . your nephew . . . out on the mall, he propositioned me. No, he did more than proposition. He groped himself, telling me . . . in detail . . . what he and my brother had done in bed. He didn't believe I wasn't Denis, you see. I accused him of being responsible for Denis' death and he just laughed." Dani shook his head. "I suppose I should have hung around and tried to find out something about him, but I . . . I wasn't thinking . . . straight. I was afraid he'd bundle me into a nearby car, or something." Dani bit his lip, recalling the incident.

"I went straight to the University Police and reported what had happened, but," he shrugged, "I couldn't give them any more information. I've spent hours looking at photographs of everyone imaginable, that the University Police could provide, but I couldn't find him.

"I'm sorry to have to say this to you, Coach, but I want to see your nephew charged with the death of my brother. I want him behind bars, and, less charitably, I want to have him suffer. I don't believe that you, or anyone, who isn't a twin, can begin to understand what it's like when your brother dies, especially in such a senseless manner. It's as if part of you had died. It's worse than having a brother die, or a parent. It's as if half of you is suddenly . . . gone." Dani choked out the last word, swallowed, bowed his head, then continued.

"I believe that man was responsible for my twin's death. There is no punishment bad enough for him. I've often wondered if whoever caused Denis' death did the same thing to someone else. It's probably wishful thinking, though. I mean, if he did things which Denis thought bad enough that he had to kill himself, I can't help but think that he did the same thing to someone else." Dani looked up, wearing a stricken expression.

"Gee, I hope he's not on the loose. I only heard that he was fired. I had no reason to expect that he was in custody.

Dani took a shuddering breath, realizing that he had stood, and had been pacing the coach's office. "Please, tell me he's not on the loose."

When the coach looked up, there was a grim determination about him. 'This wasn't a complete surprise to him,' Dani thought.

"Dani," the coach croaked. He cleared his throat. "I . . . I have . . . reason to believe . . . everything you've told me, about the bracelet, your encounter with Jackson . . . everything. And yes, he's . . ." There was a brief hesitation as the coach decided what he should say. "He's where he's not going to be able to hurt anyone else. There is more to the story, which I am not able to tell you. But, rest assured that I want my nephew to be . . . someplace . . . away from the public . . . permanently. He used his position to . . ." The coach shook his head.

"Please . . . please, believe me that I had no idea he was behaving as he was. I am so sorry for your loss. I know that seems like some sort of canned phrase, but . . . Dani . . . believe me, I hurt with you."

The afternoon brought yet more bad news, this time during a telephone conversation with the head of the Athletics Clinic, Doctor Layson.

When the telephone rang, Coach Bowen realized he had been sitting motionless, staring unseeing at the far wall of his office, since Dani Aarons had left. 'There's no place to run,' he thought to himself. 'There's no place where this . . . knowledge . . . won't be with me.' He huffed a weary laugh. 'And, there are people like Randy, Dani, and his brother, Denis, who have suffered far worse than I. What must they be thinking? How must they be hurting? The ones who are still living, that is.' The coach wanted to cry, to scream and vent his frustration . . . his anger . . . somehow, but, 'what good will that do?' he asked.

When the telephone rang, he jumped as if slapped. 'More bad news,' he thought. 'Will there ever again be any good news?' He warily picked up the telephone receiver, a hard knot forming in his stomach.

"Coach," Doctor Layson said, after identifying himself. "I've been in contact with the Tempe Police. Since I was involved with the treatment of Randy Shaw, they've been keeping me apprised of anything they've found. They've given me the latest information about the suicides they've been investigating, and I'm afraid the news is not good . . . for you, for the University, for your nephew . . . anyone. I understand that you fired your nephew, and that he was taken into custody by the police." Coach Bowen heard the doctor take a fortifying breath.

"The medical investigators have positively determined that your nephew was having a sexual relationship with at least one of the young men who took his own life. DNA in semen stains in the young man's underwear matches that of . . . your nephew. This does not mean that Mister Cline killed the unfortunate young man; only that the two of them had sex shortly before his death, and, since he is not able to testify as to what transpired between him and Mister Cline, we can only assume that whatever it was, was similar to what took place between Mister Cline and Randy Shaw."

"I understand, Doctor," Coach Bowen said, in a voice rough with emotion. "I've also had some news today, which you might not yet be aware of." He cursed his shaking hand and rough voice, but if anyone was going to understand, Doctor Layson surely would.

"I met with a young man, Dani Aarons." Perhaps you've heard of him."

"Only in passing. My brother and some of his friends have spoken of him."

"Well," Coach Bowen continued. "Dani Aarons was assigned to interview me about the dismissal of my . . . nephew, as part of a class assignment. His story was to appear in the student newspaper."

"Was?"

"Well . . . it still may, but we didn't get very far into the interview before it became clear to Dani that my nephew was instrumental in the suicide death of his twin brother, Denis. Dani found a bracelet, I'd given to Jackson, while going through his brother's belongings. It was engraved with both my name and Jackson's name. Until I mentioned Jackson by name, Dani didn't have any way to make a connection between his brother and the person who owned the bracelet.

"He tells me that Jackson also . . . accosted him, thinking he was Denis, refusing to believe that Denis was now deceased. Dani went directly to the University Police, but that was about all he could do. Unfortunately, I see no way in which Dani's brother could have gotten the bracelet unless Jackson gave it to him."

Coach Bowen rubbed his eyes, feeling as if he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. "Doctor, I don't mind telling you that I have about reached the end of my rope. I don't think I can take a single more revelation. My home life is a mess. My wife is supportive, but her sister, Jackson's mother, is calling down the wrath of God on everyone and anyone who might have hurt her little boy. She's a notorious homophobe, and refuses to believe that Jackson can be gay . . . since he doesn't wear a dress or makeup. I thought it best not to discuss with her the amount of time Jackson spends in front of a mirror, or all the stuff he slathered on his face. But . . . that's beyond the point. Jackson's brothers and sisters don't know what to make of the entire thing, and then, come to find out, Jackson has been . . . abused . . . at the hands of some of his cellmates. I suppose it's some sort of karma, or something, where he's experiencing the torture he so freely inflicted on others. I just don't know what to do next."

"Ed," Doctor Layson said, using the coach's first name, a familiarity he seldom made use of. "There is nothing you can do, other than tend to your own health, the welfare of your team members, and, of course, your wife and children. Jackson's mother will perforce be exposed to the things her son has done, and it will be on her shoulders whether to accept or deny his actions.

"Don't take what Jackson did, personally, Ed. You have done your best to provide a safe environment in which your players can compete. Your door is always open to them. I agree, it was unfortunate that Randy Shaw waited as long as he did to report to the Police what happened to him, but I can understand his need to have his own measure of revenge; and for quite some time after his last encounter with Mister Cline, he was in no shape to see anyone but me and my partner. As soon as he was able, he took action. Of course, I gave him a figurative kick in the butt, as did one of the other members on your team, Bobby Pickett. The two of them have grown very close, and it's my belief that Bobby has done more for Randy and his sense of self-worth than anything I or his psychiatrist have done.

"Are there any members of my team who are not gay?" Coach Bowen laughed.

"I wouldn't know," Doctor Layson laughed, pleased the coach could still joke. "I'm sure there must be one . . . or two. Maybe. You think?"

"All right, Doctor. I'm not feeling nearly so bad. You have a wonderful bedside manner."

Greg laughed. "So I've been told, upon occasion."

"Ahem ," the coach cleared his throat and did his best not to laugh. "I don't think I'll comment on that statement. Thank you though, for making me laugh and for the information about Jackson. It's also nice to hear someone other than my wife tell me that I've behaved honorably throughout this entire situation, and have nothing to apologize for. Perhaps I'll soon come to believe what I've been told."

A soft knock on the frame of his bedroom door caused Dani to look up from his computer screen. "Hey, guys," he smiled, at his twin roommates, "c'mon in."

"You sure we're not bothering you?" Kerin asked. Dani found it interesting that, suddenly, he had no trouble telling the twins apart. There was a slight lilt to Kerin's voice, something so minor he only noticed it when he was speaking to Thian. Kerin's smile, while similar to his brother's, had a rakish twist, which manifested itself during one of his frequent stories.

"Nah," Dani responded, closing the lid to his laptop. "You guys are never a bother. I've just been sitting here wondering what to do next. Now that the person responsible for Denis' death has been found," he shrugged, "it all seems so anticlimactic." He scooted forward on his chair, resting his elbows on his knees and studied the two men who sat on the edge of his bed . . . a bed, strangely enough, that he'd never used since moving into this house.

"I spoke with Marty, one of the guys on the baseball team. He told me what had happened to Coach Cline. In fact, Marty apparently was the coach's next target. He'd been hounding Marty to go to bed with him, promising him a position on the team. Luckily, Marty turned him down."

Dani bowed his head. When he looked up, it was with a grim expression. "The police asked if I could identify the person they were holding, as the man who had propositioned me, thinking I was Denis." He shook his head. "I don't know what's happened to him, while he's been in that jail, but . . ." Dani looked into the distance, as if seeing the coach again. "He was the same person who propositioned me . . . the same person who tormented Denis to a point where Denis thought the only escape was death. But, he was a different man. He was so much of a mess I hardly recognized him. The sudden flare of hatred in his eyes convinced me though. He struggled to get to me, but he was . . ." Dani swallowed, "stopped."

"If he's in custody," Thian said, leaning forward and anxiously studying Dani's face, "what are you so bummed about?"

His question was answered with a shrug. "I don't know." He looked up, wearing a crooked grin. "I just don't know where to go from here. You guys have been wonderful to me, but I feel like I'm intruding on your relationship. I don't want that; still . . ." another shrug, "I don't know."

Kerin scooted away from his brother and patted the bed between him and Thian. "Come, sit over here." He grinned encouragingly, and finally Dani crossed the room and slowly sat on the edge of the bed, between the two brothers.

"What do you feel about T and me? I mean, really . . . beyond telling us that we're nice guys and sexy as hell." Dani snorted an amused response to Kerin's question.

"Well?" Thian asked, wrapping an arm around Dani's waist, as Kerin rested one of his across Dani's shoulders. "C'mon, D, what are your thoughts?"

After a pause fraught with nervousness, Dani burst out. "I don't want to leave!" he managed to say, his throat tight. "I feel like I've found a home here, but . . . you guys are a couple and I feel like I'm spoiling that by being here with you all the time. I feel like a . . . welcome . . . intruder. But, I'm still an intruder." Dani melted against Kerin. "I love you guys. You've given me a home, but you've also given of yourselves to help me begin to heal," he gulped a breath of air. "I just wish Denis was able to meet you both. He'd feel about you the same as I do."

"If you and your brother were anything like K and me, then we have met Denis . . ." Thian murmured, . . ."through you." He twisted to face Dani, taking a hand and squeezing it gently. "Dani . . ." he paused until Dani looked up and met his eyes. "K and I have talked about what we feel for you, and what we would like to see happen."

"And?" Dani asked, his voice shaking.

"We . . . both of us . . . don't want you to leave. Not because we think you need more time to heal, but because we . . . love you, too. We want you to be part of our relationship. You've added something to our lives. Both of us . . . K and I, I mean, knew something was missing. We've been too dependent on one another. We've never let anyone in because it would be impossible for that person to know what it meant to be a twin. You know. Both K and I believe that . . . together . . . the three of us . . . we can grow."

"Plus, you're as sexy as hell," Kerin added, in an undertone, unrepentantly grinning, when both Thian and Dani turned to him.

"Relax, guys. I'm not making light of the situation. I'm as serious about this . . . proposal . . . as T. I just don't like for things to get too heavy."

"You're serious, aren't you?" Dani asked, looking to his left, then his right. Since Denis' death he'd felt so . . . empty; yet, here he was, surrounded by two men with an abundance of everything: good cheer, infectious enthusiasm, empathy . . . sanity. "But . . ." he began, then closed his mouth abruptly, a muscle jumping in his jaw.

"I've heard what people say about three-way relationships," Kerin began, his claims about shunning seriousness forgotten. "I've heard that they'll never work, 'cause someone always feels left out, and stuff like that."

"That may end up being true for us as well," Thian continued, "but K and I would like to try. Dani . . . stay with us. You're not a guest, you're not an intruder, you're a person we both love. Since you've moved in, you've shown K and me what it's like to care . . . deeply . . . about another person. We've always been too wrapped up with one another, to the exclusion of everyone else. I could love you for that alone, but you are a special man."

"And an animal in bed," Kerin added, in an under-voice, lightening the mood, growling, deep in his throat.

"You guys mean it? I mean, for real?" Dani asked, looking from Kerin to Thian, then back again, feeling as if a weight were being lifted from his shoulders. "After Denis . . ." he hesitated, "I never thought I'd be able to . . . to care for someone else, much less . . . love them. You both have shown me that I can and that I do." He leaned to one side and kissed Thian, then did the same to Kerin.

"Y'know something?" he asked, as the corners of his lips turned up. "This is the first time I've even sat on this bed since living here." He squirmed a bit and made a face. "It's not nearly so comfortable as the big bed in the other room." His grin was matched by both brothers. "So . . . yes, I'll stay. I'm willing to try this three-way thing."

"Hey, Marty!" Phalen shouted, leaning out of the door to the team meeting room. "Team meeting!" Phalen added. "You're late!" his voice echoed.

'Late?' Marty asked himself. 'Team meeting?' He frowned. 'I thought we were finished for the day.' He glanced at Eric, who was waiting for him to finish tidying his small office. 'I was about to leave.' "Late?" Marty asked, Eric glancing to where Phalen, with wide arm motions, was urging him to hurry. "For what?"

Eric shrugged, "Team meeting, it sounds like," he said, in a droll tone, as he slid off the table he'd been using as a seat, and motioned for Marty to hurry. "Take your gym bag with you, so we can head out when you're finished. I'm looking forward to dinner; then spending a quiet night." He playfully reached for Marty, who yelped, laughed, and hurried past. Eric grinned, and closed the door to the office, then trotted after Marty, who was half-way to the meeting room. "I'll wait over here," Eric called, pointing to some stray chairs which had, for some reason, found their way into the locker room.

"You ,too, Eric," Phalen called, his eyes twinkling as he motioned for him to follow Marty. Both men were met with a chorus of greetings, which left Marty puzzled, and Eric stupefied. 'This is more than a simple team meeting,' he thought. During those, the guys were serious . . . focused on what was being said. 'No one's serious, today.' Eric flicked a glance in Phalen's direction, but got no response, other than one of Phalen's dazzling smiles. 'Hmm.'

Marty gave Eric a quizzical look, and was answered with a shrug. Even Head Coach Bowen, who was perched on the corner of the desk in the front of the room, was smiling. It had been close to two weeks since Coach Cline had been taken into custody, and, finally, everyone seemed to be settling down. The coach's abrupt departure was met, first, with disbelief; then with relief, which each of the team members did his best to hide, until it became clear that the head coach was as pleased with his nephew's absence as much as the team members.

"Ah, good," Head Coach Bowen smiled, sliding off the edge of the desk. "Now that everyone's here, we can get started."

"Where's Vic?" someone asked, from the back of the room. The question was met with an uncomfortable silence. Of all the players on the team, Vic Renquist was the one who never seemed to fit in. He was a good player, but . . . every person on the team would have been able to supply a different ending to the sentence.

"He's not going to be with us," Coach Bowen answered, leaning against the desk at the front of the room. "Vic has told me that he intends to leave the team. He said that he's not happy here, and asked me to okay his departure. Of course, I gave him what he asked for, as well as my blessing. I hope he'll be able to go someplace where he'll be more happy."

"I hope he didn't forget his Bible," someone murmured, and was immediately shushed. It was true though. Vic's constant preaching about his version of right and wrong had not gone over well, and was the primary reason he had not fit in.

"That brings me to the next point," the coach said, first giving the person who made the comment about Vic's Bible a quelling glare. Then, once he was convinced the message had been received, he smiled broadly. "With Vic's departure, we have a vacancy to fill."

'This is it!' Eric almost shouted to himself, suddenly understanding Phalen's barely suppressed excitement. Marty turned toward him, with a puzzled expression.

"What're you so hyped about?" he murmured, only to have Eric shush him and motion for him to pay attention.

"Some months ago," the coach continued, "a good buddy of mine, a high school coach, pointed out to me that I should keep my eye on someone he highly recommended to be on the team. He was pretty adamant that I had screwed up, and had not paid attention to this young man, earlier." The coach shrugged. "My friend has never steered me wrong, so I've been doing as he asked. He told me that this guy was one of the best baseball players he'd ever coached, and that's saying something, because he's coached some outstanding players, many of whom have been on this team. He also told me that this guy is a great student, and a great man.

"Marty," Coach Bowen said, holding out a hand, in invitation, "come on up here."

"Me?" Marty almost squeaked, amidst the excited murmurs of the team.

"How many Marty's are in this room?" Eric muttered, drawing some laughs. Both he and Phalen knew what was about to happen, and were squirming with anticipation. 'I'm so happy for him,' Eric thought to himself. 'Brad's told me about how hard it was for Marty at being rejected. Some people would have become bitter, rejecting the team who had snubbed them. Instead, Marty has done everything he could to be close to the team he loves.'

"I want to contribute," he'd once told Eric. "If I can't be on the team, I want to, at least, be close." That attitude said much about Marty, the person, and was one of the reasons he was so popular. It didn't matter what was asked of him, if the request would help the team, Marty was only too glad to help.

"Yes, you," Coach Bowen grinned.

Marty stood and walked to the front of the room, with all eyes on him. He wondered at Eric's and Phalen's broad smiles, but was prevented from spending too much time in conjecture, when the coach began speaking.

"Gentlemen," Coach Bowen smiled, laying an arm over Marty's shoulders. "This is the man my friend told me about. This is the man who I made the terrible mistake of passing over when I offered scholarships, last fall." Marty turned to the coach, his mouth open, hope blossoming in his eyes.

"Marty," the coach said, turning to him, "you have been an outstanding trainer, and an honorable young man. I believe you'll be an outstanding addition to the team." He picked up a large envelope from the desk. Please accept this scholarship, and my apology for not recognizing your skill and doing this last fall."

Marty opened and closed his mouth, unable to speak, his glistening eyes flicking from the coach to Phalen, to Eric, then to the large envelope he held in trembling hands.

"C'mon, Marty," Bobby shouted, "say something." He turned to the person next to him. "He normally has plenty to say."

"About everything," someone added, causing everyone to laugh.

"Uh."

"It's a start," Bobby said, in droll amusement.

"Um. Thank you," Marty managed, after clearing his throat, and swiping at his watery eyes. "I don't think I can say any more than that." He turned to the coach and shook his hand, then accepted a brief hug.

"One more thing," Coach Bowen said, his voice rising above the excitement his announcement had generated, while Marty, still in a daze, headed back to his seat.

"Marty," the coach said, gesturing for the team to be quiet.

"Huh?" Marty turned, the scholarship clutched to his chest. His face was flushed, his eyes threatening to overflow.

"C'mon back up here. I'm not finished with you yet."

"Uh . . . oh," Marty mumbled. "Sorry," he added, returning to the coach's side. The team, always teasing, and playful, silently watched Marty try to control his emotions, each of them moved by the depth of his reaction.

"Relax, young man," Coach Bowen smiled, "I'm not going to bite your head off. Besides that piece of paper, I need to give you this." He held out a box emblazoned with the university's colors and mascot. Marty looked at the box, then at the envelope, clearly not willing to set the envelope down, and possibly shatter this dream.

"Eric," Phalen muttered. "We're never going to learn what's in the box if you don't help him out. Go on," he gestured to the front of the room. "He'll let you hold the envelope."

Coach Bowen smiled and gestured for Eric to come to the front of the room. Like Marty, Eric was well liked by everyone on the team. His constant good humor had won him many friends, as had his standing up to Coach Cline. The story of what had happened in the shower room had spread, until Eric was looked upon as something of a hero, having rid the team of the despised coach. Less than a handful of people knew the reason Eric had confronted the coach, but no one was quibbling about reasons. The fact that Cline was gone was what was important.

"Lemme hold it," Eric murmured, nodding to the envelope. "I won't let anyone touch it, he added, as Marty reluctantly parted with the scholarship, and turned to the coach, accepting the box, sparing a quick glance to Eric, who was standing at his side, craning his head, anxious to see what the box contained.

"Well . . ." Bobby teased, smiling unrepentantly when Marty cast a playful glower in his direction.

"Shhh," Randy nudged him. The change in Bobby, since Randy had moved in with him, had been amazing. He had always been the shy one on the team, the player who seemed to always be alone. Since Randy, he was a different man. His game, while always good, had become outstanding, and his personality began to shine. Very few of the players failed to recognize Randy's presence at Bobby's side, and how much both men had changed.

Where Bobby had become more animated, Randy had become less so. Somewhere, during the past months, he'd lost his swagger. There was a peacefulness about him that was totally at odds with the man who some had called a Coach Cline understudy. Only those close to him understood the haunted look which sometimes seemed to make him retreat into himself, though everyone recognized the part Bobby played in restoring the sparkle in his eyes, as well as his laughter.

"Open it, son," Coach Bowen urged, gesturing to the box.

Marty swallowed, lifted the cover, then bowed his head. His emotions, already stretched to their limit, were threatening to overwhelm him, as he tenderly ran his fingers over the folded fabric, tracing the outline of his name.

"It's his uniform," Eric told everyone, when it became clear Marty had been rendered speechless.

"Thank you," Marty began, then audibly swallowed, as a single tear left a shining trail over a cheek. "Thank you, Coach. For . . . for, everything." He nodded to the box. "For this, for the scholarship . . . for . . . all you've done for me."

Marty, his hands trembling, donned the team cap, which had sat atop the folded uniform, then held up the uniform's shirt, turning it so his teammates could see his name printed across the back. As one, the team stood and cheered, then gathered round and congratulated him with hugs and handshakes.

"I'll trade you," he smiled at Eric. "You can hold the uniform; I want that," he said, as the coach approached.

"Welcome to the team, Marty. It's difficult to think of you not already having been on the team. You've been everywhere, doing everything. I'll hate to lose my best trainer, but I'm gaining one hell of a player." He turned and called Phalen, Randy, and Bobby over.

"Gentlemen," he began. "Marty's scholarship is special. Explaining it to the rest of the guys would have meant nothing to them, but you all will understand why. Y'see, when Vic left, I went to the Administration, and was able to convince them that the scholarship, which had just become available, should be given a name. It's the first such scholarship at this school, and it is a tribute."

"Coach?" Phalen asked, stepping close to the man who was suddenly having difficulty controlling his emotions. The coach nodded his thanks.

"Men, I have found out a few things which you have a right to know. They're not general knowledge yet, so please keep what I'm about to say to yourselves, until you see things in the newspaper.

"Evidence has been gathered which points to the ex-coach . . . I've vowed never to say his name again . . . which points to the ex-coach as being directly, or indirectly, involved with two of the suicides, which have been under investigation."

"Damn," Marty murmured, echoing Randy's choked breath.

Eric's question of, "Was Denis Aarons one of them?" was answered with a jerk of a nod from the coach. "Does his brother know yet?" The coach nodded, bowing his head.

Coach Bowen rubbed his eyes. "That brings me to what I was going to tell you about why Marty's scholarship is special. I met with the Administration, and, from now on, one of the baseball scholarships will be known as the Denis Aarons Memorial Scholarship. It'll be a tribute to at least one of the young men who lost his life due to the actions of my . . . nephew. It'll be yours, Marty, for as long as you're on the team."

It was Marty's turn to bow his head and take a gulp of air, welcoming the touch of Eric's hand on his back.

"When you open that envelope," the coach continued, "you'll see that your scholarship is special. When I called you all over here, I didn't know if any of you knew Denis, or his brother, so I wanted to explain things to you. I take it, from Eric's question, that you know Dani; am I right?"

"I know him," Marty answered. "The rest of the guys know of him, and of his brother." He shook the coach's hand. "Thank you again, Coach. This scholarship means more to me now, than ever. I'm honored." He bit his lower lip, then brushed a hand across his eyes. "Sorry, for getting all emotional. We've gotta change the subject or I'm gonna be bawling like a baby," he said, trying to laugh.

"Food's here!" someone shouted.

"As if on cue," Eric grinned, rubbing a hand up and down Marty's back.

"Phalen's had a hand in this get together," Bobby laughed, from across the room, peeking beneath the aluminum foil covering of one tray, and raising his eyebrows in appreciation. Marty wasn't the only person on the verge of tears. Anyone who knew the coach, knew that his emotions had been rubbed raw by everything that had happened, and by the knowledge that . . . things . . . were a long way from being concluded. Randy had taken a couple deep gulps of air when the coach had mentioned the suicides, but had managed to give Bobby a wan grin, and was now speaking with the coach. 'He'll be fine,' Bobby said to himself. 'He's stronger than he knows.'

"Right-o," Phalen laughed, claiming some responsibility for the food's presence, "I'm starved. Besides, we all need an excuse to have a party!" He paused, "but first, one more thing." He held up a brand new bat. "C'mon, everyone. Before we eat, let's autograph this bat for Marty!" His suggestion was met with another cheer.

"You knew about this all the time." Marty turned a suspicious eye on Phalen, who handed the bat and a black marker to Bobby, the first player in line, then shook his head.

"No, not all of it. I knew the coach had his eye on you, but that's all. He asked me to get a few guys together, so he could evaluate your playing skills, but, before long, everyone wanted to be on the practice team, just so they could play with you." That's why the coach has cut back on our practice time. We got all the practice we needed, working out with you. I'm surprised you didn't notice," Phalen grinned, as Marty shook his head.

"You deserve to be on the team," Randy said, from where he sat, next to Bobby. He, Bobby, Eric, Marty, and Phalen, sat at one of the room's tables, surrounded by laughter. "You also deserve a friggin' medal for standing up to . . ."

"It was a team-thing," Marty interrupted. "All I did was say 'no'. Phalen played his part, as did Eric, with his fancy martial arts moves. You stood up to him, too, Randy, in your own way. None of us was hurt like you. You're the person who deserves a medal for being responsible for him being safely locked up.

"You'll be back?" Marty asked, when Randy bowed his head in silence.

Randy nodded, then slowly smiled. "I've got until next season to get back into shape." He glanced at the man sitting next to him. "I've got a personal trainer who's making sure I cover all the bases. He's training me in everything." Bobby grinned, wiggling his eyebrows.

"Hey, Marty, you've got quite a reputation," Phalen said, looking up from his meal, as the last player to autograph the bat, presented it to Marty, and shook his hand. "No one else in this room has had a celebration like this. No one's had their high school coach go to bat for them, or been asked to be part of a special team. You deserve it all."

Marty bowed his head, thinking of all the things which culminated in this celebration. He'd met Phalen and Jeff, been asked to be part of a special 'practice' team, been propositioned by both Randy and Coach Cline, met Eric, and Dani, wrestled with temptation, fallen in love, and, with both Eric's and Phalen's help, had conquered temptation, and found extra strength to stand up for what he knew to be right.

"Thanks, Phalen. There's just so much that has happened in the last few months, both to me and," he glanced at the men surrounding him, "and, to you all." He smiled crookedly. "This is all just too much to take in, but I do know something." He glanced at Eric. "I've got the two things I've always dreamt of, plus one thing you taught me the importance of." He rested a hand on Eric's shoulder, and scooted closer. "I have a person who I love, and who loves me, I am on the baseball team I have always loved, and . . ." he captured Phalen's eye. "and, best of all, I have my honor."

~ the end ~

Epilogue

The impeccably dressed attorney, dubiously studied the muscular man sitting across the table from him. He cleared his throat, uncomfortable to be in the same room with a person who radiated such anger. For the briefest of instants, he questioned whether it was prudent to return such a person to the streets. 'I'm not the one who made the decision,' he told himself. The law firm's big boss, had handed him this case, along with the admonition to, "win it."

"The firm is . . . um . . . convinced, based on your deposition, that we can demonstrate to the court that your accuser entered into the relationship in question willingly, and, accused you of wrongdoing as a means of retaliation when you attempted to end the association.

"As for the claims that your actions contributed to the two, obviously troubled, young men killing themselves . . . " The attorney paused, recalling the photographs he'd seen of the victims, and thinking of his own young son. He flicked a glance to the man across the table, doing his best not to cower before the sinister smile. He licked his lips.

"So, you had sex with them. The two men, I mean. There's nothing illegal about that. The fact that they later killed themselves can, in no way, be seen as a direct result of the single sexual encounter you've described having, with each.

"Have no fear of the outcome, Mister Cline. The judge has set terms of bail, and the fee has been paid. All that's required of you is to show up and face your accuser in court. I'm sure you'll shortly be a free man."

The lawyer uncomfortably scooted his chair back and stood, deeply troubled by the burning hatred, clearly visible in his client's eyes, and thankful that he the man had no reason to turn his barely controlled anger in his direction.

~ Coming: Phalen IV - Redemption

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