Phalen

Phalen - Reputation and Honor

Chapter 11

By Roy Reinikainen

Dani opened the bathroom door and was met with a roiling wall of steam. "Close the door, you're letting out the heat!" someone called. "We were taking a steam shower, then T had to pee, so between him and you, I'm gonna freeze!"

Thian sheepishly grinned, as Dani turned back to him after hurriedly closing the door. "Why don't you join us?" Thian asked. "You've been working all day on that journalism story, and, since K got that thing off his wrist, we've been going through a workout to get him back to speed. You need a break, and K and I, and the trusty steam shower, are here to provide one. C'mon," he urged, with an encouraging hand motion. "Strip."

"I'm freezing my nuts off in heeere!" Kerin called, obscured by the billowing steam escaping from the open glass door to the steam shower. "Trust me, I won't be any fun, without nuts!"

Dani loved the shower. 'It's big enough for five or six people!" he exclaimed, the first time he'd seen it. One wall was floor-to-ceiling glass, while a deep, built-in granite-topped, bench ran along the back wall. That's where Kerin now sat, cross legged, leaning against the tile wall, while the steam generator continued to hiss, pouring more steam into the room.

"Strip him, T!" Kerin called. "If he's gonna be living with us, he's gotta get used to being naked!"

Thian grinned crookedly. "You've heard the boss; besides . . ." he wrapped Dani in an embrace and sought out his mouth. "I'm horny, and I'd really like to . . ." he thrust his groin against Dani, as he buried his tongue in Dani's mouth, "have you play with K and me." He backed up, an arm's length, and grinned. "Better yet," he said, in a voice pitched so his brother wouldn't hear what he said. "Better yet, I'd like to watch you and K play. I've never done that."

Dani swallowed. "You mean sex? I didn't think that would be part of me living with you guys. I mean, you have your own relationship. Wouldn't it be like I'm intruding?" He backed out of Thian's embrace. "You guys don't have to ask that, just to make me feel better about Denis. Just hanging around you, and being able to talk about him, does that."

Thian reached for Dani's hand, as the clothed man turned toward the bathroom door. "Dani, if you don't think you're ready to be intimate with anyone, just say so, but K and I think you are ready." He pulled Dani into a loose embrace. "We wouldn't invite you to have sex with us because we feel sorry for you. You're a handsome guy. You don't need us to provide you with sex. You can find your own sex partners. But, we're hoping you'll be with us, at least for tonight. Watching you around the house, and sleeping next to you each night is making us super horny." He lightly kissed Dani's lips. "It'll be good for you, you know. You need to do this to learn that you are still capable of having sex with someone other than Denis." He tenderly kissed Dani, holding him close. "Please," he added.

"Guys!" Kerin shouted. "If you're gonna fondle each other, do it in here so I can join in and have some fun. C'mon, Dani, I'm all hard, thinking about kissing you."

Dani tore his eyes away from the shower enclosure to look at Thian, who grinned and raised his brows. "Ready?" he asked. "We can't let K freeze his nuts off."

Dani snorted. "I should be jumping at the chance to be with you guys. I mean, look at you," he gestured to Thian's body. You're both so . . . so . . . freaking perfect."

"Shhh," Thian murmured. "You're one of the handsomest men K and I have ever met." He rubbed an open palm over Dani's chest, pausing to tease a nipple to firmness, a move he had been hesitant about making. He knew he hadn't overstepped his bounds when Dani bent his head to watch, then lightly trembled at the touch. "You've also got one of the best . . . natural . . . bodies we've ever seen. You can't compare yourself with K and me, Dani. We've been working for years to look like we do, and the only reason we've done it is so we can do gymnastics. No one would call our bodies natural." He snorted a laugh. "You should have seen us before we started working out. We were two of the scrawniest guys you could imagine. If we stopped doing gymnastics today, we'd both love to look like you." He helped Dani off with his t-shirt, then stood back and watched, as Dani stepped free of his jeans, his erection bobbing before him.

"I'm a little nervous about this," Dani laughed uneasily, scratching his pubes while he looked at Thian. "This is the first time . . ."

"K and I have no expectations," Thian interrupted, "other than for all of us to have a good time. If all we do is kiss, that'll be fine by me." He leaned close and licked over Dani's cheek, then gently kissed him. "You are one hella good kisser." His murmur was barely heard over the hiss of the steam generator. "Both K and I think we're really lucky to have you living with us; not only 'cause of how good you kiss, but because we think you're a great guy."

"Really?" Dani asked. Thian nodded, lowered the lights, then took Dani's hand and led him to the shower.

"Whoa, boy!" Kerin said, a grin in his voice, as his brother closed the glass door to the shower, trapping the steam. "I forgot what a sexy man T and I are living with!"

"Guys . . ." Dani began to protest.

"S'true!" Thian pressed against Dani's back, his arms loosely wrapping him in an embrace, trapping his erection between Dani's butt cheeks. Kerin stood and ran the tips of his fingers over Dani's face. "Wonderful eyes, cute smile," he lowered his voice and winked, "a great kisser." Dani followed Kerin's hand as it moved to his chest. "Nice chest," he smiled, "a flat stomach . . ."

Kerin's fingers toyed with the tangle of Dani's brown pubes, then circled his cock and began to stroke it. "Great dick," he said, lowering his voice, and tenderly kissing a line from Dani's cheek to his mouth. "And your balls," Kerin said, cupping the scrotum, "mmmmmm. I bet they'll be able to show T and me a good load." He glanced up to find Dani watching him through half-closed eyes. "Y'think?"

Kerin stepped closer and grasped both his and Dani's erections, slowly masturbating them, as he kissed Dani. He loved how Dani, so hesitant at first, had begun to thrust his penis through Kerin's grasp. Dani wrapped his arms around Kerin's waist, pulling him closer, as their tongues wrestled with one another's, displaying an aggressiveness which surprised both Kerin and his brother. "So . . ." he asked, in a voice, rough with mounting passion, "what do you want me to do with my dick?" He attacked Kerin's neck, his ear, his cheeks, his lips, as he continued to knead the muscles of Kerin's buttocks.

'It's been so long,' he told himself, 'so long since I've touched anyone like this . . . so long since I've been touched.' "Y'wanna suck on it?" he asked, pulling Kerin close by digging his fingers into the muscles of his buttocks, and, at the same time, grinding their cocks together, while Kerin whimpered. "Or," he said, licking up Kerin's neck before their tongues met. "Or, would you like me to spray my load all over you, so Thian and I can lick it off?" Kerin silently shook his head from side to side, while Thian continued to work his cock between Dani's butt cheeks.

"Then, what would you like?" Dani asked, madly kissing Kerin's neck and face.

"Fuck me," Kerin mumbled, around an especially aggressive kiss. "Slide into me and fill me with your sperm. I think it'd be hot for T to watch." From behind Dani, there was an answering groan, accompanied by another thrust. "Then," Kerin continued. "T can fuck me while you and I kiss."

"You like it when I kiss you?" Dani asked, mashing his lips against Kerin's open mouth. Kerin whimpered and nodded, a part of him amazed at the change in Dani. The mild mannered, self-effacing person who blushed easily had been replaced by someone strong and demanding. "You like being fucked?" Dani asked, kneading Kerin's ass cheeks, as the whimpering grew louder.

"Turn around. Face the wall and spread your feet. Show me your butt. He smacked Kerin's ass, the sound loud in the confined space.

Kerin turned to face the tile wall of the shower, holding onto a grab bar for support, as he spread his feet. "Do it to me, D," he urged. His use of the initial instead of his name gave Dani a moment's pause; then he smiled, dropped to his knees, and spread Kerin's smooth butt cheeks, as Thian scooted along the granite bench next to them and began kissing his brother. Kerin thrust himself against Dani's face, groaning loudly as Dani's tongue found his butthole, lubing it with his spit.

"Awwww, geeez," Kerin groaned, a few moments later, as Dani slid into him in one long stroke. Kerin trembled. "Geeez, T," he grunted, as Dani began slow, deliberate, thrusts. Each time he rocked his hips, Kerin groaned. "This is so . . . so good."

"That's it, D," Thian said, over the hiss of the steam nozzle. "You're gonna do the same to me, next time." He kissed Dani, then turned his attention to his brother. With one hand, he toyed with Kerin's nipples, while with his other, he felt the perimeter of his brother's stretched hole, and Dani's rigid cock as it slid in and out.

"Are you ready?" Dani asked, holding onto Kerin's sides for support. He flicked a glance at Thian and saw . . . what? . . . amazement? . . . in his eyes.

"You like, T?" Thian nodded, his eyes shifting from the sight of Dani's cock penetrating his brother, to the man who had so utterly transformed before his eyes. "You still want me to do you?" Thian nodded, unable to tear his eyes away from the scene taking place less than a foot away from him.

"Y'want my sperm?" Dani asked, slowing his thrusts. Kerin groaned, and pushed himself back against the invading penis. "I'm gonna shoot, K," he said, gasping for a breath. "I . . . I'm . . . there." Dani stopped moving, except for each small rhythmic jerk of his body, each a pulse of sperm being shot into Kerin.

Finally, it was over. He leaned forward, wrapping his arms around Kerin's chest, and lay against his back, his slowly softening penis still buried in the man who continued to whimper.

"Holy fuck!" Thian sighed, resting his back against the tile wall and watching Dani continue small thrusts into his brother. The steam generator had long ago shut off, leaving only hints of steam and water dripping from the ceiling. "That was way better than any porn video I've ever seen." He shook his head in wonder as Dani pulled free and plopped onto the bench with an umpf of expelled breath. Dani looked from Thian to his brother, and smiled, stretching his legs out in front of him. Thian wiped across the tip of Dani's shrinking penis, gathering a last pearl of sperm, then licked his finger clean.

"You should have been on the receiving end," Kerin laughed. "If you think watching was wonderful . . ." He slowly straightened, then stretched his back. "If I'd known what an animal you are, D, I'd have insisted we do this sooner." He leaned close, taking Dani's head in both hands, and tenderly kissed him. "Thank you. That was beyond awesome."

Kerin eased himself onto the bench, between Dani and his brother, and heaved a deep breath. "You are amazing, D."

Dani laughed, leaning into Kerin's embrace. "Why am I amazing, all of a sudden? I'm no different than I always have been."

Thian joined the embrace. "No, D, you are not the same guy who entered the shower."

"I went in Dani, and came out D?" Dani laughed.

"Partly," Thian said, tenderly running a hand over Dani's back. "You entered, a wounded man, and came out, one step closer to being healed."

Both twins heard Dani's breath catch, and, as always, Kerin came to the rescue. He sniffed his armpit and made a face.

"It's a good thing we're in the shower. I smell like a horse . . . or something else," he chuckled, "that smells bad."

"I wasn't going to say anything," Thian commented, dryly, but . . . Dani smells just as bad." He laughed, and playfully protected himself from Dani's reaction.

"What? What about you?"

"I don't smell."

"Yeah, right," Dani laughed, "said the skunk."

"What?" It was Thian's turn to feign outrage. Dani responded by childishly sticking out his tongue and making a face.

"Just you wait, D. K and I are gonna team up on you and you'll be sorry you ever stuck out your tongue at me."

"Yeah, yeah. Is that a threat or a promise?" He paused a moment. "Promise . . . I hope."

"Since you've shown us your tongue, do you give tongue baths, Mister Aarons?" Kerin playfully asked. "Two enormously sexy guys will give you access to anyplace you want to . . . lick . . . clean." He turned to his brother, then spread his legs and lifted his scrotum. "Geez, T, I think I'm leaking, or something."

"I wondered what that was, dripping onto my foot," Dani laughed, fending off both twins' attack. "Ewwwww! K's been dripping on me!"

There was a hesitant knock on Head Coach Bowen's motel room door. "Come."

"Hi, Coach," Marty said, standing half in the room, the door knob in one hand, his travel bag in the other. "I just saw the room postings, and I," he took a deep breath, "I'd like to know if you could shift me to another room, so I don't have to be Coach Cline's roommate. Please," he added.

Ed Bowen set down his book and gestured to the chair opposite him. "Come in, son," he smiled. "Of course, I'll change the room posting. Coach Cline came up with the postings, and I thought it odd that you had been reassigned. I'm planning to have Assistant Coach Cline room with me, during the remaining road trips."

"Thank you, sir. It's just that I . . ."

Coach Bowen held up a hand. "There's no need to explain yourself. There can be many reasons why you're asking for the room change. I respect them all."

"Actually sir . . . there is only one. You see . . ."

Ever since Marty had told Eric that he felt as if he had to do something, he'd fought with himself, finally admitting that his inaction was caused by fear. On one hand, he was afraid of what retaliation Coach Cline might take if he learned that Marty had reported his advances. On the other, he wanted Coach Cline to stop; he didn't want to ruin his life. But, if it was true that Randy's suffering was caused by Coach Cline, or, worse yet, the death of Dani's brother, he couldn't, in good conscience, let the coach continue, no matter what he feared might happen to himself.

Before Marty had a chance to continue his thought, the motel room door opened, and his breathing stopped, as Coach Cline came in, carrying two bags of food. It was as if a stinking malevolence hovered at his back. He imagined he could feel Coach Cline's warm breath on his neck, the coach's fingers pulling him close, pinching his nipples. He wanted to hunch his shoulders, or better yet . . . run. Instead, he shuddered.

"Ah, good," Coach Bowen smiled, "dinner, at last!" He turned back to Marty, as Coach Cline set the bags on the motel room table and stood, arms crossed, a silent menace, in the background. "Thanks for taking a few minutes to meet with me, Marty. I'm glad I was able to corner you. I understand your concerns about Lyle's ankle. He's trying to pretend that he's totally recovered, but both you and Head Trainer Wilson now have told me that he is not. Perhaps by next week's games?" The coach's brow and voice both rose, hopeful of an affirmative answer. "Ah, well," we'll have to wait and see." He stood and engulfed Marty's hand in a firm handshake.

"Now," he nodded to Marty's travel bag, "haul yourself out of here. Until Randy Shaw returns, I've told Bobby Pickett and Ross McCree that you'll be rooming with them." He shook his head. "Perhaps you'll be able to calm their . . . boisterousness . . . so that the rest of us can get some sleep, and I won't have to face an irritated hotel manager in the morning." He patted Marty on the back. "Now, scoot."

Ed Bowen watched his nephew follow Marty with his eyes, as the young man left the hotel room, never acknowledging his presence. Jackson's expression of loathing was uncalled for. The head coach steeled himself. He did not want to believe that his nephew could be guilty of preying on the young men of the baseball team. He had argued with himself, trying to convince himself that such a thing could not be possible. Yet . . . the more he studied his nephew's actions and reactions to Marty, Phalen, and Randy, the more he thought that his nephew was capable of doing the things the doctor and Marty's brother had accused him of.

"Sorry to circumvent your room assignments, Jackson" Coach Bowen said, clearing a space on the table for his and his nephew's dinner. "The boisterousness of Bobby Pickett and Ross McCree had already started, and we've not been in the hotel more than an hour. I had to take steps to stop it before the hotel manager felt it necessary to call me."

"Ahhh, wonderful," Ed Bowen sighed with pleasure, as he opened the lid of his steaming styrofoam container. "Thank you for going out for our dinner. He lifted the fork to his mouth, wondering at his nephew's silence. "Maybe I should ask the restaurant's management to open a restaurant in Tempe, eh?" he laughed, then abruptly sobered, as his nephew opened his own food container.

"Oh, I do have something very serious to talk to you about." Coach Cline looked up, his eyes expressionless. "Yesterday, I attended a meeting with all the other head coaches at the school, chaired by the University's police chief." Coach Bowen sat back in his chair, his dinner forgotten, as he sadly shook his head. "They specifically asked us coaches not to talk to our assistants about the meeting, but I think it's necessary to keep you informed." Jackson sat quietly, watching every move his uncle made. At the mention of the University Police Chief, his fidgeting had vanished.

Ed Bowen sighed. "It's nasty business, but . . ." he heaved another sigh, "the Police have reason to believe someone, at least one person, possibly more, are preying on members of the school's athletic teams, choosing a particular player, then intimidating them into having sex." Coach Bowen shook his head. "I have absolutely nothing against two men having sex, but it is wrong for a person in authority to use that authority to intimidate a person under him."

Coach Cline showed no reaction, other than the white-fisted crumpling of a paper napkin and a tightening of the muscles of his jaws, neither reaction escaping his uncle's gaze.

"Have you heard any of the players talking about something like this happening?" Coach Bowen asked, studying his nephew over the rim of his paper coffee cup. "I mean, you're in a position to hear more things than I am. I've learned that, sometimes, a player will confide in an assistant coach before approaching the head coach. That's why I'm talking to you about this . . . problem. If one of the young men does come to you, please let me know, will you?

When no answer appeared forthcoming, he continued. "The University Police told us that they are investigating as many as three suicides, which may be the result of the pressure this person has placed on these young men." Coach Bowen sighed, placing his napkin on the table and shaking his head. "Suicide! Imagine!" He looked at his half-finished meal, then slid his chair back and stood. "I've lost my appetite," he said. "I think I'll go for a walk.

Coach Cline silently watched as his uncle left the motel room. He was silent on the outside, though inside, he seethed. "The police!" he hissed. "Our little Marty's gone crying to the police. I should never have allowed him to approach me, like I did. The little bastard. I don't give him what he wants, so he goes to the cops and fabricates some flimsy story!" He threw his coffee cup across the room, with all his strength, taking little satisfaction as it splashed against the hotel room door.

"Hell," he ranted, "It's not my room; what do I care if it's a mess? The old man's so clueless he probably won't even notice!" Coach Cline abruptly turned.

"I bet Randy's in it with Marty, and Denis!" Jackson snorted. "Likely story about Denis being dead. I mean, how many twins are there in the world? Hell, I'd have liked to plow one while the other watches, drooling for a chance for me to do the same to him. Twins! Ha!"

Coach Cline paced across the small hotel room, swearing at the University for not sending the team first class. A moment later, he was swearing at his uncle, the University Police, Randy, Denis, but mostly Marty, the cause of all his troubles.

"I have to get even," the coach seethed, pounding the fist of one hand into the open palm of the other. No one can frame me like he's trying to do . . . no one!

He raised his hand to knock, but paused at the sound of a voice through the motel room door. "Don't worry, Marty." The voice was Phalen's, not an unexpected visitor. "He's got to know that something's going on. He'd be blind if he didn't." There was a muffled response, which gave the coach an opportunity to knock. The voices went silent. A few moments later, Phalen warily opened the door, then tried to conceal his sigh of relief.

"Hi, Phalen," Coach Bowen said, trying to set the young man's mind at ease with a smile. "I'm here to find out if Marty's settling in after I abruptly moved him from another room."

Phalen stepped aside, allowing the coach to step into the room. "Marty," he shouted, over his shoulder, "Coach Bowen's here to see you. Are you about done?"

"Coach Bowen?" Marty's voice, and the sound of the shower, echoed through the open door to the bathroom.

Phalen glanced over his shoulder, to find the coach studiously concentrating on anything but the conversation between the two young men. "Yeah, rinse off and haul yourself out here." Phalen turned back to the coach, absently continuing to fold items of clothing from Marty's travel bag. "Oh, sorry," he apologized, noticing the coach watching him. "I'm a neat freak. The guys tolerate me folding things." He laughed. "Some people twiddle their thumbs or hum, or something. I clean. If I had access to a vacuum, I'd probably be cleaning the carpet, too." His smile faded. "Should I be leaving? I mean, do you want to speak with Marty in private?"

"No, I'm thinking you're involved in this, too, so, rather than have him relay what I'm going to say, why don't you just stay. Then," Coach Bowen grinned, "you can come to my room and tidy up."

"Um, hi Coach." Marty emerged from the bathroom, a towel wrapped tightly around his waist, moisture still glistening on his skin. "What's up?"

"Men . . ." Coach Bowen perched on the corner of the room's desk, doing his best to remain calm. "I wanted you both to know that I am aware of the . . . things . . . you're facing." He bowed his head and paused. "I don't want to say anything more, and I would rather you not either, to me or anyone else." He bowed his head and cleared his throat. "You must forgive me. This is extremely difficult for me, being family n'all, but . . ." he straightened and grinned crookedly, "difficult or not, it is a thing which must be done.

"However, before I . . . or anyone . . . can act, I need definitive proof. I believe I may have set the wheels in motion to get that proof, but I did not want either of you, and especially you, Marty, to think that you are alone."

He turned to Phalen. "I'm aware of your little group of guys who are looking out after our trainer, Phalen, and for that, I thank you."

"Group?" Marty asked, turning to Phalen. "Is that why someone always seems to be hanging around?" He laughed. "I thought it was because of my winning personality, or something." He stepped close and hugged Phalen. "Thanks, guy. Between you and Eric, and the team, I've got lots of people looking out for me."

"You, too, Coach," he grinned, shyly. Marty extended his hand, then quickly gave the coach a quick hug. "Thanks Coach. No one knew how to approach you."

Coach Bowen held up a hand, moved by the young man's display of thanks. "No names, Marty. No explanations are necessary, nor any recriminations. Let's just take things from here, okay, men?"

Ed Bowen shook his head and chuckled to himself as he closed the door to Marty's room. 'My star player . . . folds clothes and vacuums to release stress! I wonder what he's like at home.' The coach paused a moment, before opening the door to the hotel room he and his nephew were sharing, dreading a confrontation.

'Hell,' he observed, 'I can understand how one of the young men can easily become intimidated. I'm intimidated by him, and he has no hold over me . . . other than being my nephew.' The coach swiped the key through the electronic lock and pushed the door open.

"Jackson," he called, "I'm back." The room was empty. Both his and his nephew's dinner sat congealing, no longer the appetizing meal he had begun less than an hour earlier. He made a face, and closed the lids to both styrofoam containers.

"Well," he said to himself, "I've planted the seed; now, we have to see what sprouts." He grimaced at the dark stain on the inside of the room's door, and the empty coffee cup lying on the carpeted floor. "As angry as he apparently is, I hope he's not out doing something . . . rash." Coach Bowen's eyes widened. "I hope that Marty has the sense not to open the door to his room for anyone other than his roommates, or Phalen. Knowing Phalen, he's probably changed places with either Ross or Bobby, so he can stay close to Marty.

"Alright, who gets to double up?" Ross McCree asked, as he came out of the bathroom to find both Marty and Bobby naked as the day they were born, lying on their stomachs on the same bed. They both looked up from their laptop computers to find Ross playfully covering his eyes.

"That settles it! If you guys want to go bare ass naked, it's fine by me, but that means you get to sleep together." He expected some sort of ribald comeback, but, instead, all he got was a casual nod before both men returned their attention to their computers.

"Don't you mind sleeping starkers, with another guy?" Ross asked, as he climbed into the free bed. "I mean, one of you might get frisky in the middle of the night, and then who knows what might happen."

"Or both of us might get frisky," Bobby grinned. "I slept with my brother until I came to college. We never wore anything to bed. Hell, my folks were okay with it if we were naked whenever we were at home. Much of the time, they were too. It's no big deal."

"Your folks were naked!" Ross asked, propping himself up on an elbow and looking at Bobby with wide eyes. "I never saw either of my folks naked, especially my mom. Why'd you and your brother sleep together?"

"My sister got the other bedroom," Bobby smiled. "The parents would have drawn the line at one of us guys sharing the room with my sister. Besides, she's about six years younger than Patrick or me."

"I shared a room with my brother, too," Marty said. "We had to. There are five of us guys, so only my oldest brother got a room to himself. We slept naked, too. Mom wouldn't have been too happy if all of us guys had trooped around the house naked, though it wasn't unusual for her to see one of us. She never complained. Whenever she was away, the rules were relaxed quite a bit, and even Dad hung around naked. I hate clothes," Marty finished, turning back to his computer.

"Well, what happens if . . ."

"Wouldn't be the first time," Bobby laughed. "How about you, Marty?" he asked, laughing at Marty's casual shake of the head.

"Are you guys gonna be up long?" Ross asked. "We've got a game tomorrow, and someone's sure to check on us if they see the light underneath the door. Bobby glanced at Marty, then hurriedly closed his laptop cover. Neither of them wanted the person who would be checking to be Coach Cline.

"G'night, Ross," Bobby called into the darkness.

"Go to sleep," Ross laughed.

"G'night, Marty," Bobby called to his bedmate, then yelped when Marty smacked the open palm of a hand on Bobby's bare butt.

"Oooh Marty," he laughed, "I didn't know you cared."

"Guys!"

"Wanna join us?" Bobby laughed, unable to help himself. He loudly panted, then grunted a couple times. "We're . . . having . . . fun . . . aren't we . . . Marty?"

Marty loudly sighed. "It was good for me, Bobby. How was it for you?"

"I think I'll have a cigarette," Bobby answered. "I always have to have a cigarette, afterward . . . just like in the old time movies."

"You don't smoke," Ross murmured.

"Oh, then what am I supposed to do?"

"Go to sleep."

"Awww, you're no fun."

"And I intend to keep it that way," Ross laughed, despite himself.

"Well, Marty's fun," Bobby responded.

"Not again, Bobby," Marty played at being groggy. "Once a night is enough."

"Not for me," Bobby murmured, wondering at his playfulness. He'd never been this open in front of anyone on the team. After learning that Marty was gay, though, he felt free to be have fun.

"Then, you best find someone who can keep up with you," Ross yawned.

"Yeah, that's what I've been thinking.

"No, I don't want to room with you. I want to room by myself. I've already got my stuff scattered around the room," Jackson, told his uncle, feeling petulant. His plan to have Marty room with him had been thwarted. 'No doubt by Marty bitching to ol' Uncle. Hell, I wasn't going to plug him tonight. I just wanted to see the little fucker naked . . . at close range. He's got a cute body, though his dick is nothing to write home about. Nothing like mine,' Jackson grinned, feeling the twitch in his pants. 'Sometimes, the little monster seems to have a mind of its own,' he grinned.

"Suit yourself," Coach Bowen said. Truth be told, he didn't want to room with his nephew any more than the boy wanted to share his room. "Oh, just to let you know," Coach Bowen continued. "I'll be doing the room-check this trip. I don't want you hollering at anyone."

"It's one of my duties . . ."

"Which I am taking over, for the time being. No arguing. I'm doing the room checks. The guys are all antsy being around you, Jackson. The games during the next two days are going to be challenging enough. The guys have seen enough of your bad behavior, verbally attacking Marty's friend, Eric, in the locker room, and things like that. Discipline is good . . . the guys don't need a coach who flies off the handle, like you have been. So, until you can shape up and exercise some control, I'm taking over many of your duties. Some of the others will be assigned to Coach Walker, or Coach Riordan. Hell, Jackson, even they're afraid of you."

"If everyone's going to do my work, why am I even here?"

"Perhaps, to show . . . all of us . . . that you are mature enough to be able to handle yourself. So . . . Jackson . . . I guess you could consider this road trip a test, of sorts. I've given you numerous opportunities to talk with me, so we can work things out. You've not availed yourself of the offers, so we're left with the situation all of us find ourselves in.

"I can't have things go on as they have been. No, I mean, I won't have things continue as they have. It's your choice. I really do hope that you can find it within yourself to come to grips with whatever is bothering you, because you are a good coach. You've, also, always been my favorite nephew, and . . . I love you. However, I will not have everyone walking around on pins and needles, afraid that you're going to throw a tantrum.

"And, before you ask, or assume . . . no one . . . absolutely no one, has come to me with a complaint against you. I am making whatever decisions I have made, on my own. So, you have no one to blame, but me."

"I don't believe you, Uncle. I bet that Phalen kid has bitched, or Marty, or Bobby. I never did like him."

"Jackson! Listen to yourself! If you are attempting to show me that you can control yourself, you have not started off well. I told you. No one has come to me with complaints. If you choose not to believe me, that's your choice. But . . . I do not lie . . . to you, or to anyone else."

"Uh . . . hi, Randy." Bobby Pickett smiled, pleased to see his old teammate. Instead of responding as he expected, Randy jerked and quickly turned, his eyes wide as they searched the grocery store at Bobby's back.

"How did you find me?" he asked. Everything in the store looked normal, but here was Bobby, standing not three feet away. Who else might be nearby? "Are you alone?"

Bobby flinched at the intensity of the response to a simple hello. He involuntarily backed up a step. "I wasn't trying to find you," he said, wondering why Randy kept looking from side to side, as if expecting someone. "This is where I shop for groceries. I've come here ever since I got my own place. Why?" Bobby studied Randy closely.

"Randy, are you okay? What's going on? I miss seeing you every day. I really do. The team's not as good when you're not playing third base. I miss your joking around and all sorts of stuff. Why'd you leave?"

"You're not with anyone?" Randy asked, as if he hadn't heard anything Bobby had said.

Bobby huffed a laugh. "No, I'm by myself. I live by myself. I came to the grocery store alone. No one's with me." His gaze sharpened. "Now that I've answered your questions, why don't you answer a couple of mine? Why are you looking around like you are? Why are you so concerned about whether I'm here alone? You're acting strange."

Randy's lips twisted into a crooked smile. "I'm sorry to be so jumpy, Bobby . . . really. It's just that things have not been good . . . lately." There was another sweeping gaze of the grocery store. "I can't talk about it . . . not here, at least." He seemed to finally relax. "It's good to see you, Bobby. I've missed you, too. I've missed a lot of things, lately, but, most of all, I think I've missed the man who'd always laugh at one of my jokes."

"Can you come back to my place so we can talk? I don't live near anyone from the team, or anything," he added, "in case you're wondering. Just me . . . Bobby . . . living the life of a monk. Hell, my cat doesn't even talk to me." His gaze sharpened. "Please, Randy. I'm thinking that you need to talk as much as I need company. I promise I won't tell anyone that I saw you, if that'll make you feel better. No one!" He held up a hand, as if swearing.

"Have you eaten?" Bobby asked. "I came to the store to get some stuff to last me through the weekend. You could come over and have some dinner, too. I've been told that I know my way around a kitchen. Believe me, my kitchen's small enough it's easy to find my way around." He paused. "That was a joke. You're supposed to at least grin. I mean, Randy, it's Friday, and there's no game tonight or tomorrow, so I'm gonna be sitting at home alone . . . all monk-like . . . with a cat who sulks and a television that gave up the ghost, but there it hangs, on my living room wall, an expensive piece of plasma artwork. I've taped a drawing of me and my cat onto the screen. You need to eat. My mother taught me to make fried chicken. I can make that for dinner." Bobby examined his shopping basket, then held up a chicken carcass, raising his brows, and giving Randy a puppy-dog look. "I'll cook it, of course," he added. "Um," he grinned, "that's why it's called fried chicken."

Finally, Randy relaxed enough to smile. "Yeah, sure, I'll come over. It'll be good to talk to someone." There was another quick glance around. "Let's get out of here, though. I've had enough . . . exposure, for tonight." The two men turned toward the checkers. "My psychiatrist told me to get out. "Go to the grocery store," he said. "You're not likely to meet anyone you know at a grocery store."

"Your psychiatrist?"

Randy bowed his head. "Later, Bobby." He looked up and met his friend's concerned expression. "I promise." Bobby turned to the cashier and began talking, as the woman quickly ran his few items past the scanner. 'I never thought about it,' Randy realized, 'but Bobby really is a friend. He's always been a good guy, even when I was at my most boorish.'

Randy smiled to himself, as he watched Bobby interact with the cashier and pay his bill. 'I guess I'm not dead from the waist down, after all,' he thought to himself. 'Why didn't I ever think about what a cute guy Bobby is? If someone would have told me an hour ago that I'd be having . . . erotic . . . thoughts, I'd have laughed at them, but here I am, admiring Bobby's curly black hair, his brown eyes, his cute smile, and the hint of a beard on his light skin.' He smiled when Bobby turned to him. 'Not only is he cute, he's a good guy, too. Like Doctor Johnston says, I need to get out. I wouldn't have thought about it, but Bobby is probably the best person for me to have met.'

"I only live about a block from here," Bobby explained, as they left the store. "I walked. Did you drive?"

Randy shook his head. "No, I walked, too. I figured, since it was dark, that it'd be okay." Bobby gestured in the general direction of his apartment, ignoring yet another of Randy's mysterious comments. "Geez," Randy murmured, barely loud enough for Bobby to hear, "I feel so exposed." Bobby glanced in his direction, but said nothing. Instead, he gestured for Randy to move so he could walk on the side of the walk, closer to the street.

"I'm glad I saw you," Bobby spoke, into the darkness. "I've missed you."

"Thanks, Bobby. Back there, in the store, I was thinking that you're the one person I can feel good about seeing. You've always been a friend, even when I wasn't very friendly." He turned to the man walking next to him. "I'm sorry for behaving like I always have. I've recently been made to see the error of my ways."

"You've always treated me good. In fact, I've never seen you treat anyone bad. There's no need for an apology, but," he added, sounding sheepish, "I'm glad you feel good about seeing me." He gestured to the building they were approaching. "Ah, here's where I call home." They turned down a brick sidewalk, walked through a tall wooden gate, and entered an outdoor walkway, flanked by a white stuccoed wall on either side. Widely spaced wooden doors and wall sconces, providing pools of yellow light, punctuated the walls, while, above, greenery and bougainvillea overhung the walls from each apartment's courtyard.

"There are patios behind here," Bobby said, gesturing to the walls. "I like being able to be outside, in my own little yard," he explained. "This place is perfect for me. The walls are high enough that my cat can't escape, and I can hang out in the yard, naked, and not titillate the neighbor ladies." He smiled over his shoulder, as he set one of the his grocery bags down, and fumbled in his pocket for the key to the garden gate. Randy looked around, marveling at the sense of tranquility he felt. This place was so different from the apartment he'd had been sharing with his friend, Ben. That place fronted a busy street, while Bobby's was on a side street, and his apartment was set far enough back that any traffic was barely heard. Instead of noise of the city, there was the sound of laughter from one of the courtyards, and soft music from another.

"It's nice, here," Randy said, as Bobby swung the gate open and stepped aside for him to pass. He stepped into the courtyard and stopped. "Whoa," he said, turning to his pleasantly smiling friend. "This is really nice. It's so quiet, and," he grinned, reaching up to a low hanging branch, "oranges within arm's reach. Very cool."

There was a small circular table, with two metal chairs on the patio, next to a wall of glass, separating the courtyard from the apartment. Randy grinned. A black and white cat sat on its haunches inside the apartment, bravely guarding its territory from behind the safety of a glass wall.

"Augustus, my cat," Bobby said, nodding toward the animal, as he and Randy entered the apartment. "I call her Gus." At the name, the cat trotted across the room and jumped onto the kitchen counter, purring a welcome as it rubbed its head against Bobby, who affectionately scratched the cat's back. "Gus is really a female," Bobby grinned, then lowered his voice. "She doesn't know that Gus isn't a girl's name." With that, the cat turned, as if in a huff, held its tail in the air, and left the room, without so much as a glance over its shoulder, or any comment.

Randy laughed, feeling freer than he had in . . . months. 'Doctor Johnston will be pleased,' he thought. 'Hell, I'm pleased.'

Bobby moved about the small kitchen with practiced ease, while Randy watched and nursed a beer. 'I feel so . . . comfortable . . . here,' he thought. 'It's almost as if I'm home.' He snorted a soft laugh. 'Hell, I feel better than when I'm at home.' He smiled as Gus, once again wanting to be friendly, jumped onto his lap and rubbed against him, demanding attention.

"You're smiling," Bobby said, leaning on the counter, opposite Randy. "You've not smiled since I saw you at the grocery store."

"It's Gus, this place . . . you," Randy said. "It feels so good here. I was thinking that I feel better here than I do at home." He idly ran his fingers through Gus' short fur, responding to the soothing purr of the cat which was now stretched across his lap. "This is nice," he added, smiling at Bobby and glancing around the small apartment.

"Thanks," Bobby grinned, following Randy's gaze. "It's only a one bedroom, one bath apartment, but it seems larger because of the courtyard, and all the glass. Wanna eat on the patio?" he asked, turning back to the stove. "I strung some lights in the tree over the table. Some nights, I study out there."

Randy looked around the small living room, feeling fully relaxed, as Bobby finished preparing the meal, and talked. "What'cha think of my television?" Bobby asked, gesturing toward the black rectangle hanging on the wall. "That's a picture of me and Gus I taped to the screen."

"Bobby, they're stick figures!" Randy laughed. "I've never seen a stick-figure drawing of a cat before."

"Hey, I never claimed to be an artist!" Bobby laughed. I can play baseball and cook, and that's about it. "When it comes to art, that picture is about as good as I can manage. In case someone doesn't recognize us, I've printed our name, with an arrow pointing to the right one. I wouldn't want to be confused with Gus, after all," Bobby laughed.

From Randy's lap, Gus looked up with a loud meow.

~ to be continued ~

Thank you for taking the time to read my work. I welcome your email and enjoy hearing your thoughts. If you would like me to send a pic of the character(s), please ask. Be sure to mention the name of the story in your email's subject line.