The following fictional story deals with sex among males. If you are offended by such material, are too young, or reside in a location where it is not allowed, please depart. Though not observed in this story, care enough about yourself and humankind to practice safe sex.
The author retains all rights. EvanBradley33@Yahoo.com
Chapter 29 Disclosing Secrets
City Central Police Station
Drew felt no inner calm as he walked away from Hal and Boyd, acknowledging them with no more than a backward wave. 'Now why did I do that?' he asked himself. He had realized, upon Boyd's being escorted to the booking desk, that Hal had to acquire a lot of information from Boyd if he were going to help him, and Boyd clearly needed that help. At the same time, he didn't look as though he were into sharing that kind of information, which meant Hal would have to build trust with Boyd. Even then, he'd have to drag out the information he needed. Why should Boyd be open, given the charges of indecent exposure and solicitation? He seemed so 4-H fresh that he had to be terribly embarrassed. And having to call on his new boss for bail made it exponentially worse.
Drew intuited that he needed to leave Hal and Boyd alone. So he made the offer. He was a little disheartened that Hal didn't offer even a token protest; just accepted it. 'What did you imagine he'd do?' he asked himself. 'Fall on his knees and beg you to stay? I'm so screwed up,' he decided. He continued replaying the scene in his memory. He was dismayed to realize that he was experiencing some of the same feelings of rejection and embarrassment he had when the crew had stumbled upon Hal and Brett locked in a fuck. He had hoped that he had moved beyond that passage in his life, but once more he was being spurned in favor of a young hunk. 'Am I developing an age issue?' he wondered. By the time he located Boyd's truck, he head was hanging in shame. 'Will I EVER get back to the up and up?' he wondered. 'I'm getting really tired of fighting all this stuff, all these events and their endless permutations, all the alliances that leave me out.'
Suddenly, he was driving Boyd's scrupulously neat and clean Toyota pickup into his driveway. 'Whoa!' he thought. 'Where has your mind been? You don't remember a thing about your drive home! You passed through stoplights and stop signs and made lane changes as though you were on automatic pilot. And it wasn't even your own vehicle! You know better than to drive mindlessly like that.' He was worried that he seemed to have lost some control and was more worried about what that might betoken ahead. 'Damn! What a loser of an evening!' he observed as he locked the pickup door and deposited the keys in his mailbox for Boyd to retrieve.
City Central Police Station
Even after Drew walked out of the police station and turned right to head north up the block to locate Boyd's pickup, Hal had kept his eyes glued to Drew's retreating back. He'd eyed that cute ass too, deepening his regret that this evening was just not going to happen for them. Drew hadn't looked back, which meant he was . . . pissed? Surely disappointed. Something wasn't sitting well with Drew. After all that happened in the past few months, was it reasonable to expect him to be okay with their being forced to part company?
"Hal, I apologize for ruining your plans this evening," Boyd broke into Hal's thoughts.
Hal refocused his attention on Boyd. "You didn't plan for this to happen, Boyd. Look, I could use a beer. I bet you could too. There's a small, neighborhood tavern a block over. Let's go grab a booth and talk." Boyd shook his head resignedly. He was going to have to open up, what he hated most. Explain what had landed him on the skids with his family. Was it going to put him on the outs with Hal too? Why couldn't he keep his libido in check? Their walk to the tavern was silent. When they entered, Hal immediately headed for a booth back by the doors leading to the restrooms. Boyd had followed, but when he saw the door marked "Restrooms," he stopped, staring. Hal had looked back over his shoulder, then looking at what had claimed Boyd's attention. "Boyd?" he questioned. Boyd suddenly came to, following Hal and sliding in the booth. The bar wasn't crowded, and customers were sitting toward the front of the long, narrow space, so Hal and Boyd were afforded a measure of privacy.
Boyd began again: "I'm sorry Hal for dragging you away from your" . . . suddenly Boyd colored, having painted himself into a corner . . . "date."
Hal brushed Boyd's apology away with the flick of his hand. "What went down tonight, Boyd? I heard some things in what you've told me so far that don't square with police procedure as I understand it. And I need to know why you think you were falsely arrested. Don't hold back on any detail. Let me decided what's important."
Boyd sighed, looking at the surface of the table as the bartender brought them a frosted pitcher and glasses. Once they were alone, he started. "I stopped at a bar on the way home. This guy asked if the empty stool next to me was taken. When I indicated it was his, he sat beside me. He started asking me if I worked construction, how long I'd lived here, stuff like that." Boyd's eyes shot left. "He was hot. Honey-blond flattop. Good shoulders. Beefy arms. Kinda golden eyes. Hot lips. Friendly attitude. I could see I'd stand taller, the way I like with guys. His voice had an effect on me. I got a hardon. Guess I was horny. I didn't want him to see so I got up to go to the john.
I was standing in a stall in the john because I didn't want anyone who came in to see that I was fighting a stiffer. I hadn't latched the door because no one else was in there. Next thing I know, this same guy is crowding in the stall behind me, reaching around me, running his hands down into my briefs and rubbing my balls. His other hand grabbed my dick while I'm in midstream. There wasn't much I could do. I felt his hard dick pressing against my jeans into my crack. As I was finishing, he pulled his hands away, taking a step back. I heard his belt buckle clink and heard him unzipping. When I finished, he spun me around and pushed me down on the stool. Then he stabbed his hard, fat dick in my mouth. He started pumping away."
Boyd looked worriedly into Hal's eyes. "Guess you figured out I'm gay. . . I was hard up, really hard up. So I started giving him head. He was moaning and whispering how good it felt, how much he needed it, how hot I was, my mouth was. He must have been hot too because he unloaded right away in my mouth. We stood like that for a while. He stepped back and started putting his dick away. Then he reached in his jeans pocket and pulled out a badge and told me I was under arrest. He read me my rights. Another young guy came up behind him. I guess he had been waiting out by the urinal. He flashed a badge too, telling me that if I went peacefully, they wouldn't cuff me. So I did. When we got outside, they decided the new guy would ride with me in my pickup to the police station where they processed me. When they told me I got one call, I called Ted. I really didn't want to bother you. I didn't think he'd ever call you," Boyd stressed.
"I need to be certain I'm hearing correctly. You never once invited the guy to have sex with you?"
"No, sir."
"Did he invite you to have sex?"
"No, sir."
"Did you protest?"
"No, sir."
"And he ejaculated in your mouth?"
"Yes, sir."
"Did he say anything else?"
"Right before he shot, he told me to swallow it."
Hal sat still for about 15 seconds, his jaw muscles clinching, then he pulled out his cell phone, punched in a name, hit the call button and waited. "Hey Les, how are you, buddy?" Hal listened, smiling. "You know, 'no rest for the wicked and the righteous don't need it.' As wicked as you are, you have to be killing YOURSELF with work," Hal teased, sharing a laugh with Les. Of course I've been working my ass off. Again Hal listened for a while, smiling, then laughing again. A little more banter followed. Then Hal sobered. "Les, I need to make an appointment to see you. One of my employees was arrested tonight in a situation that sounds way too much like entrapment. Couple of young cops arrested him in the john of a bar." Hal listened briefly. "No offer was made by my employee or this young cop. The guy crowded into a stall in the men's room with him and immediately started feeling him up. Made him suck him off, telling him to swallow it. When it's over, the cop fastens back up and then flashes a badge, arresting my guy while a cop who'd been waiting by the urinals steps up to assist. They arrest him but don't cuff him. They let him drive his pickup to the station with another officer riding along."
Hal listened some more. "I thought so." More listening. "Do you remember the arresting officers' names?" he asked Boyd?
"No, sir."
"No, I don't think he had an opportunity to find out." . . . "Okay, four o'clock tomorrow afternoon? We'll be there." Hal chatted some more. Then signed off.
"Boyd, we have an appointment with my lawyer tomorrow afternoon. You heard the details that made me suspicious about what happened to you. I want you to relax. Les Porter is a long-time friend and a good lawyer. He's also gay. I think we can quash this arrest so that you will have no record. At most, we think we can get it thrown out of court if it goes that far. Given Les's connections, I don't think it will ever see the inside of a courtroom."
Boyd breathed a voluble sigh of relief. "Thank you, Hal. I don't know what more to say. But thank you."
"Save your thanks, Boyd, until it's all done. . . . I want to explain to you about Drew and me." Hal took a draw on his beer; then he launched into the story, starting at Murphy's Gym, the crew's collusion in getting Drew's attention and the pile-up on the indoor track, taking Drew to Hal's home and his winning the bet by bedding Drew, Bobby and Angie's appearance, then Brett's. Hal stopped his account briefly now and again for several long draws. He didn't want to tell the part about Brett and him. But he did, sparing himself not at all, recounting the little he knew about Drew's meltdown, about finding Brett and Gwen, and Hal's own meltdown. He brightened as he related to Boyd what the crew had done to help Drew and help him and then try to get them back together. He spent more detail on the fits and starts of Drew and his trying to revive their relationship and how this evening represented their first date, so to speak.
"And I ruined it for you. Damn, Hal, I'm sorry. Looks like I'm really good at causing messes. That's why Drew waved us off tonight, right?"
"Yes. I know he was disappointed. But you also noticed that he, without my ever having to say a word, understood that we needed some talking time alone. He wasn't upset with you. I know him. He was worrying about you, how you were feeling. He was just disappointed. He's been through a lot. More than I have. I didn't tell you about Drew and me to make you feel guilty, Boyd. I'm telling you for several reasons. I love Drew, so, if I have my way about it, you are going to see him figure largely in my life. It's better for you to hear it straight from me than have to piece together bits of the story as you hear others talking. I wanted to bring you into the crew as fully knowledgeable about us as any other member. Then you'd know how much I want you to belong, to be a member of the crew. Moreover, I'm going to ask you to be just as open and sharing with me in a minute. I couldn't ask you to open yourself up like that when I hadn't done the same first."
Boyd was looking deeply into Hal's eyes. "I'm amazed that you can be so matter-of-fact about all if it. I know parts of the story had to hurt when you told me. I could tell when you felt shame and embarrassment. And I'm glad you laid all your reasons out, especially the part about wanting me to belong. For so long, Hal, I've been on my own. It's partly my fault. After some ugliness, I shut myself off. That's where I've been for a few years. I have no friends, really. I have no family. My one room is my home. I don't even have any dreams, to tell you the truth. Well, I had them, but I had to give those up. They will never happen. Before I tell you about my ugly past, may I ask a question? It may help me answer you better. But if you don't want to answer me, it's okay."
"Shoot," Hal replied.
"Uh . . . I've noticed . . . I've noticed that some of the guys seem paired off." Boyd paused, taking another tack. "I know now that Drew, you, and I are gay. We aren't alone that way, are we?"
"No. As you work and play with the crew, you'll hear that when some of the guys came on with the company, I had a relationship with them. But they soon fell in love with others. Max, Ted, Levi, Kenji."
Boyd's eyes brightened. "Kenji's gay?"
"Yes, but you need to know that he and Max are a couple."
Boyd's eyes turned dull. "Oh," he said softly, looking crestfallen.
"I've noticed that you are quite taken with Kenji. Why is that?"
"He's so cute, so exotic. His body is hot. Everything about him turns me on." He cleared his throat. "I've always had a thing for Asian guys. They are usually on the short side." He chuckled - not happily. "I spend a lot of money going to action flicks where the central characters are Asian. Then I go home and beat off like crazy for weeks," he confessed, blushing. "I've seen so many of those kung fu movies I could probably protect myself fairly well using martial arts." Again he laughed, but there was no joy in it. Only resignation.
"Asian guys are hot, aren't they?" Hal agreed. "Kenji's sweet, loving, caring. If you allow it, he'll become a great friend to you. You can still enjoy some of his gifts. And if I don't miss my guess, what happened to you in regard to your family is exactly what happened to him."
Boyd's eyes widened. "They threw him out?"
Hal shook his head in the affirmative. "Like so many of the crew, he walked in off the streets, in desperate straits in one way or another, asking for a job. So you see, you and he have a ready-made base for being good friends. And just so you know, Jamal and Tonio recently became a couple. My accountant Rich Adams is also a member of the crew along with his two partners."
Boyd's eyes widened yet again in surprise. "A threesome? I didn't think that could ever work."
Hal smiled in response. "One of our favorite group activities is attending the Renegades games. You ever watch them?"
"Yes, when my studies allowed."
"Then you've watched Wes Standfield and Carl Ralston play with the Renegades?"
"Oh yeah, two stars on the team!" he said with a little excitement.
"They are Rich's two partners. They're all in love, really committed to each other. You see, Rich was a big college baseball star, and he tried it in the minors, but just didn't make it. It didn't keep those three from linking up. We've all gone through a lot of challenges, but sooner or later we each found someone to love. You will too." Boyd dropped his head.
"Why did you out these guys to me?" Boyd asked.
"I didn't out them. You couldn't have been a member of the crew without discovering that about them. In fact, each one of them would have told you, some if you asked, some just because they wanted you to know who and what you were dealing with. They are going to be your brothers, Boyd. . . . I'd like to hear why you have no family."
Boyd looked up. "You can't fix it if that's what you are thinking."
"No, but I think you need to tell me. Remember, I was an orphan. Now you are too in a way. But you are going to be one of the crew. I can relate to you only to the extent that I know what's happened to you. Again, my reason for telling you about the couples and triple in the crew."
Boyd shook his head in agreement. "My turn to let my guts spill out," he said bitterly.
"Is that what you think I just did - let my guts spill out?" Hal asked. Boyd colored, realizing that he'd just thrown Hal's request into a negative context. "Sorry, Hal. I'm just not used to this. You may not feel the same way about me after you hear what happened with my family."
"Just tell your story. Would I have done for you this evening all I have just to turn off on you? I've made an investment in you. We're becoming friends. But you have to contribute to the process, and it starts by trusting me."
No one had ever talked to Boyd so straight up and out in quite a while. His dad did - before he kicked him out of the family. In a defensive move, Boyd looked down at the tabletop as he started his account. "I loved our family farm. That was my dream - to continue with it when Dad retired. It's all I ever wanted. I loved every task I performed there, whether it was dirty, tiring, long, easy or complex, sweltering or freezing."
Boyd fell silent, beginning to choke up, Hal thought. 'Gosh, don't tell me he's never cried over his loss,' Hal said to himself. 'He is tough.'
When I got to high school, I really never dated. Just did sports. I was good at them and at my studies. Every girl in high school wanted to date me, went after me. I really didn't have any interest in playing that game. It seemed so dishonest. My dad was always after me to date. Told me the farm couldn't be all my life. I just humored him, avoiding as many dates as possible. I had a good jack-off buddy, Andy Norton, a jock like me. We helped each other out. My folks had just left for the county seat one day not long after we'd graduated. I'd invited Andy out for some real lovemaking. We almost never got a chance like that. We were so hot that we jumped into it right away, right there on the living room floor. I never imagined that the folks would have some car trouble just ten miles down the road and turn around and return to the farm. I was fucking Andy hard, and we were kissing and telling each other how much we were in love when my dad walked in the front door. As soon as he saw us, he blocked my family's sight of us, telling them to wait a minute. He shut the door and told Andy to get dressed, get out, and never come back or he'd have a talk with Andy's dad." Boyd paused, allowing his head to drop low. "I've never heard from Andy since."
Boyd paused, a hitch in his breath. "Dad told me to go to my room and start packing. He didn't want me to turn my two younger brothers into queers." Suddenly a sob broke from Boyd. He clapped his hand over his mouth, his shoulders shaking. Without looking at Hal, he scooted out of the booth and fled into the john.
Hal groaned, knowing instantly how bad Boyd felt. Boyd had never dealt with the rupture in his life, had repressed it quite successfully until now, when it was all coming down on him. How did he imagine he could deny and ignore a loss like that? He was going to have to get through that before anyone could help him. So Hal sat there, nursing his beer, giving Boyd some time. He signaled the bartender to bring another pitcher. After about ten minutes, he decided he'd better check on Boyd. He entered the restroom, seeing no one immediately. The he heard sniffling, heard Boyd blowing his nose, then cursing softly. "Boyd?"
Finally, a muffled "yeah," came from the last stall. Hal checked himself from walking back to the stall. He didn't want anything right now to remind Boyd of his bust earlier in the evening.
"Boyd, it's going to be okay. You need to come out soon so that we can talk."
He heard a muffled "okay," then more soft sobbing broke out. "It will be okay, Boyd. You just have to get through this to get to the other side. There's nothing wrong with what you're feeling. Nothing wrong with crying. So don't beat up on yourself. Pull yourself together and come on out. I've ordered another pitcher."
It took another five minutes, but Boyd emerged, head cast down, eyes red and puffy. He didn't scoot into the booth. He dropped in defeat, placing his hands on the table. Hal placed his hands over Boyd's, gently squeezing them. "You're okay, Boyd. Don't get lost in that macho bullshit that men don't suffer and don't show it." Hal pulled his hands back. "Every one of us has experienced something like it."
Boyd just shook his head a little, taking a draw from his freshened glass of beer, not looking Hal in the eye. Then softly, as though he were expecting an axe to fall, "Do I still have a job?"
"Of course you do. I told you, Boyd. We've all been where you are. We all understand. You've come to the best place you could be now." Boyd said nothing. "Come on, Boyd. You've had a hard night. Let's get you home for some much needed sleep. And you show up to work tomorrow, or I'm coming after you. Do you understand?" Boyd gave a meek shake of his head.
Hal put his right hand under Boyd's chin, making him look in Hal's face. "I'm not losing you, Boyd." He smiled weakly, tears filling his eyes. Hal fished his handkerchief out of his back pocket, handing it to Boyd. He swiped at his eyes. Grinned weakly again. And they arose to walk back to Hal's truck.
Drew Nichols's Home
Once locked in for the night, Drew sat in the family room, a goblet of merlot in hand, as he looked out at the sugar maple Hal had planted. With a smile, he remembered Jimmy's eager, hectic marking of Drew's backyard as JIMMY'S turf. 'How do I mark Hal as mine?' He meditated on that, becoming increasingly uncomfortable with the import of the question. 'You deserve to own Hal? Anyone deserves to own Hal? Come on, Drew. Hal's The Samaritan, The Hero, The Peacemaker. You don't get to own someone like that. They have to own themselves so that their healing strength can flow unimpeded through them when they need to offer their gifts. You know The Big Guy or Gal owns Hal - if anyone does. You should feel lucky to have caught his attention. So get over it! And be more humble!'
Drew sat quietly for a while, allowing thoughts to flow in and out of his mind, wondering why THOSE particular thoughts were surfacing now. 'Does he really love me? . . . Or am I just a patch on a tire? . . . Now where in the hell did that metaphor come from? . . . You're weird, Drew. . . I have to ask it: am I going to lose him again? . . . Oh, Man. That question hurt,' he observed as a pain shot through his gut and up into his chest. 'I just knew tonight was going to be THE night. . . . I guess I needed THAT night. . . . Yeah, I needed healing too. But I'm not going to get it.'
Drew took a sip of his wine. 'Drew, for heaven's sake! That kid was petrified. If Hal is correct, he's all alone. He has to be frightened to death. He's felt for a while like he's losing his grip on his life. And he's so young, that this mess has to be frightening. And he has no one to back him up and probably few coping skills. So would you just get off it - or you are going to fall into Brett's class? . . . Shit! That's a sobering possibility. You are the one always harping on others' lack of compassion. Et tu Brute?' Drew deliberately cleared his mind of any more internal dialogue until he killed his goblet of merlot, arising to fetch more.
Drew stopped off in his bedroom, stripping off the daring electric blue thong he'd bought the very day Hal had made their date. He'd gone to a big mall and shopped for nearly an hour for that thong, just knowing that it would rekindle fires long dead. He wasn't actually certain that it was still possible to spark Hal's sexual interest after Hal had had Brett. Brett had obviously satisfied Hal to the max sexually. He'd heard about Hal's telling some of the guys about increasingly kinky sex Brett and he were having, about Hal's and Brett's sneaking off in the middle of the day for a quickie - more than once. Hal had never wanted that with him. Wasn't that why Hal stumbled upon Brett and Gwen, he'd gone to have a quickie with Brett? 'How stupid you are!' He walked to his dresser, pulling out a small pair of scissors, cutting the thong into pieces, then cutting the larger pieces into smaller pieces and throwing them in a wastebasket.
'Why was it important for you to engage in a destructive act like that?' he asked himself, angrily replying almost immediately, 'Hell, I don't know. I don't have all the answers. They wouldn't make life better even if I did.' He paused, arrested by an epiphany: 'Wow. I have reached a point in my life when I have for the first time ever realized that total understanding isn't one of the ultimate states of grace!' He just stood there, naked in more ways than one, facing the perspective that was crowding its way into his perceptual field. It was like the breath of his spirit had been knocked out of him. 'So what is the state of grace beyond understanding?' he asked himself, discovering that he'd never thought that far before, so he had no answers.
Drew's synapses were firing with more desperate questions, for he'd been knocked off HIS primal foundation, but they were coming too fast for him to even meet them, mixing with images from his past, a lot of them having to do with Hal, Brett and even Richie Collins. He was drowning in a frantic storm of impressions and feelings, causing him to slowly sink to the carpet. 'And I thought all epiphanies were by definition positive,' he observed to himself. He wanted to shut his mind down. How to do that? He was kneeling, sitting on his calves and feet. He slowly sank forward, allowing his forehead to come to rest on the carpet.
So what was his proper state of grace? Giving up? Giving in? Letting go? Losing? Then standing up? Being knocked down? Then standing up again? For what? To acknowledge that Fate had knocked him on his ass and he'd gotten back up? . . . It couldn't be acceptance. He'd been forced to accept what had happened with Hal and Brett, but no grace came with that. The pain and sorrow continued unabated.
Drew must have succeeded in quieting the storm. He didn't know how long he'd prostrated himself like that, but his lower legs had gone to sleep. He wondered if he'd dozed off. When he tried to raise himself up, he groaned in pain, his muscles protesting. Needles and pins were assaulting his lower legs as he stumbled upon rising, placing a hand on his bed to keep from falling over. He sagged on the bed for a few minutes, gently rubbing the muscles in his lower legs to restore circulation. He staggered to his dresser, pulling out a pair of boxers, holding them up as he stared at the red and green plaid.
'No romance tonight,' he thought ruefully, realizing that that very point was the root of his behavior. He'd wanted Hal - no, needed Hal. He'd wanted the closeness. He'd wanted Hal's warm lips kissing his, wanted to rub his hands over that silky skin; that work-sculpted, hardened, killer ass and those pecs; wanted to feel those muscles; wanted to pull in that Hal smell harboring in that shiny black hair, that faint scent of perspiration in his lover's pits, that intoxicating musk in his crotch, that breathtaking spice of his ass. Craved that beautifully big cock planted in his chute. He'd counted on feeling those hunky pounds bearing down on him, giving himself up to the weight, the flesh, the warmth, the power, hearing this fantastic man's moans of pleasure and gasps of delight, feeling him climax inside him, feeling his own explosive climax. Truly opening himself up, making himself fully vulnerable instead of closed up. He'd craved it.
He walked to the bed where he sat quietly for perhaps 20 minutes. 'I guess, if there is any opportunity for Hal and me, it will be like this. He will always need to care for others, to jump in and help when they are in difficulty. It's who he is. I can't have one without the other. If someone worthy needs something from Hal, we shall have to wait. Can I live with that? . . . You can if you aren't a selfish bastard!' came the reply, making him squirm. He sat, just feeling. 'Ever since Brett, you've allowed the responsibility and guilt for what happened to rest squarely on Hal's shoulders. You have done nothing to help him with that! . . . He was quiet for several minutes, reviewing points in the internal dialogue. Hal was responsible with Brett for the ugliness that occurred. But Drew realized that, no matter what degree of culpability owed to Hal, it didn't forgive Drew his responsibility to step in and help Hal - if he were truly his friend, if he truly loved Hal. Helping a friend, not to mention a lover, was never an obligation to be abrogated, whatever the circumstances.
'What can I do to show Hal and Boyd I understand?' He was short on answers. He sighed, stumbling upon one answer. Why was it so small? He wanted the classical French grand gesture. 'Maybe big things begin with small gestures,' he mused. He arose, padding to the kitchen, collecting a big Ziploc bag and packing it with a couple of bananas, Thompson's grapes, a red delicious apple. He walked to the front yard and, without taking a moment to look outside to see who might observe him, opened the door, walked immodestly to the mailbox in his boxers, retrieved the key, unlocked the pickup, and placed the bag in the driver's seat, smiling, knowing that Boyd would realize that more than one person cared for him, wasn't renouncing him for the evening's events. 'So what are you going to do for Hal?' he asked himself as he retraced his steps, replacing the key in the mailbox and entering his front door and locking it. A mischievous gleam presented itself in his eyes. 'He'll have to work for it,' he thought, laughing out loud. 'But what delightful work it will be! His reward will be great!' He laughed again, moving through the house, extinguishing lights and walking to his rest.
Drew was deep in troubled sleep when Hal's pickup floated quietly onto Drew's driveway. Noting that the house was dark, Hal had cautioned Boyd to be quiet as he recovered his keys from the mailbox. Hal had alighted from the pickup, walking over to stand by the bed of Boyd's pickup. After Boyd had inserted the key in the door, Hal reached over and pulled him into a tight hug. Boyd hugged back, again softly weeping. "It'll be okay, Baby," Hal whispered. "You've got buddies and a family again. We love you. You aren't alone anymore." Gradually Boyd grew quiet, squeezing Hal before stepping back, opening the door, and starting to sit behind the steering wheel. Suddenly he yelped when he almost planted himself on the bag of fruit. "What the hell?" he exclaimed.
"What's wrong?" Hal inquired, concerned. Boyd held the bag out for Hal to see, looking at it, gradually working out its source and the message it conveyed. A little smile seized Boyd's face, fading slowly. Hal's smile didn't fade.
(To be continued.)
Much thanks to a friend, Medfly, for his assistance with entrapment information. The expertise is his. The exaggeration and run with fictional license owe to the author. Please applaud him and forgive me.