Poor Man's Son - 21. Chapter 20

July 23, 2000

Pontoise, France

Will

I ignored the commotion, burying my face in the bed, as if by doing that I were invisible. I just wanted to curl up and die, or barring that, I wanted to put some clothes on. The tears formed in my eyes and I couldn’t stop them, so I just used the bed to absorb them. The activity in the room seemed to stop and I heard footsteps as people left. I jumped when I felt a hand touch my back gently.

“I am sorry to startle you,” a voice said. I turned my head sideways to see a cop dressed in what looked like SWAT gear standing next to me.

“It’s alright,” I told him. He sat on the bed and stroked my back. His kind human touch was revitalizing.

“We took the key from him,” he said. “I am going to undo these restraints.” I felt him undo one wrist, then the other, and I was free. I unthinkingly rolled over and started rubbing them, noticing there were deep marks where the metal had come into contact with my skin. Suddenly I realized I was lying on my back, naked, with my dick still half hard. I kind of panicked, but the cop just smiled at me.

He handed me a sheet. “It is almost a shame to cover you up,” he said, flirting with me. Did Frenchman flirt with everyone?

I blushed and looked down. “Thanks.”

“Are these your clothes?” he asked, holding my stuff in his hand. I nodded. “Let’s get them on you.”

I hurriedly threw on my boxers, shorts and flip-flops, but my shirt had been torn apart when Gustave had ripped it off of me. I stood there holding the remnants of it, looking at it as if it were once alive and now it was dead. The cop didn’t miss a beat. He took off his uniform jacket and pulled off the T-shirt he was wearing underneath it, exposing his amazing physique, and handed it to me. “Here. It probably does not smell very good, but it will suffice to get you out of here.” He put his uniform back on.

“It is a shame to cover you up too,” I said, and winked at him. Was he blushing now? That little interaction with him made me almost feel human again. I inhaled his shirt, taking in his aroma, and acted like I was savoring it. He just shook his head. Then I put the T-shirt on, even though it was huge. “Thanks.”

He put his arm around me affectionately. “It is no problem. You will be fine in no time.”

“How is my father? I need to see him!” I insisted, as panic gripped me. I realized that once again I’d been caught up in my own drama and had neglected to worry about him.

“He is fine. Let us go,” he said, and led me out of the room that had been my jail. As soon as we got into the hall, I saw my dad down at the other end. He saw me immediately too, and I ran toward him and lunged into his arms, grabbing onto him and holding onto him as if my life depended on it. His arms enveloped me, and for the first time since this whole thing started, I felt safe.

Neither one of us is very emotional, but we were now. I broke down crying, and so did he. “I’ve been so worried about you,” he said, his voice broken. “Are you alright?”

“I will be,” I told him. “How are you?”

“I’m OK,” he said.

“What did they do to you?” I asked, pulling back from him enough so I could look at him.

“I am sorry to interrupt you, but we need to ask you both some questions,” a diplomatic cop said. “We need to interview you separately.”

I watched my dad and it was as if someone flipped a switch. He went from being a guy who’d just been abducted with his son to the uber-powerful businessman that he was. “Neither one of us will be answering questions without an attorney present, and my son will require that a member of the family be present as well.”

That irritated the cop considerably, but he got over it quickly enough. There was some commotion in the stairwell, and some loud shouting, until finally two people came into the hallway: Stef and Robbie. They were followed by two other people, and based on the way those guys were dressed, they had to be lawyers. One was older, while the other was younger, probably in his early 30s. Robbie rushed over and hugged my dad, crying his eyes out, while Stef came over and gave me a hug. “You are alright?” he asked, nervously.

“I think I’m doing better than him,” I said, gesturing to Robbie.

Stef chuckled. “He has been a bit overwrought by this.”

“I am your attorney,” the younger man said. His accent told me he was from Paris. “Please call me Jean-Claude.”

“You found the most handsome attorney in Paris for me?” I asked Stefan, as if Jean-Claude weren’t there, but I spoke French so he could understand me clearly. I was being playful; it helped hide the pain.

“I have been told that is true,” Jean-Claude said with feigned arrogance, reminding me of Darius. “We will be meeting with the police. Only answer questions after I have told you it is alright. Watch for me to nod.”

“Very well,” I said.

Robbie chose that time to intervene, and to give me a big hug. “I was so worried about you,” he said intensely.

“I know. I’ll be fine,” I said.

“You will need someone with you when you are interviewed,” Jean-Claude said. “Preferably your father, but since he is also involved, that is not possible.”

“I’ll do it,” Robbie said.

“No,” I said, and then saw his whole expression fade as he got all insulted. My response had been instinctive, because I just did not have the ability to deal with his emotions and maintain my own as well. I put my arm on his shoulder to calm and reassure him. “It’s not that I don’t want you with me, but Dad’s going to need you.”

“You’re probably right,” he said, and gave me his grin. I’m not sure he was entirely convinced, but he went with it. “Who will go with you?”

“Stef,” I said, and then turned to him. “If you will?”

“But of course,” he said, as if it were some great honor.

The cop led us into the salon where we’d first met with Dr. Cambronne. “This is Monsieur Charante, the assistant chief of police,” Jean-Claude said, introducing us. The man had a polite expression, but there was an evil look in his eye.

“I would like to speak with someone else,” I said firmly.

“You do not get to choose your interrogator,” he snapped.

“Interrogation?” I asked.

“What is the problem?” Jean-Claude intervened.

“Mr. Kohl explained to my father and me that we would have a tough time being tracked down because they had someone working with them inside the police force,” I said as I stared at Charante. It was funny to see him look a little nervous. “They identified their stooge as the assistant chief of police.”

“That is preposterous!” Charante said, outraged.

“You will say nothing to him,” Jean-Claude ordered. “I am going to speak to the chief.”

“That will not be necessary,” Charante said. He stormed out of the room.

“Will you make sure he doesn’t cause problems with my dad?” I asked him.

“But of course,” Jean-Claude said, and vanished. I sat there alone with Stef, and felt his hand on my shoulder.

We communicated without speaking. He was telling me that he was there for me, and asking me what happened. “He made me do stuff with him,” I blurted out, “but that’s not the worst thing.”

“What is the worst thing?”

“I wanted to do it,” I said. “After we started doing things, I was as into it as he was.”

“Will, you cannot control the reaction of your body to stimulation. Men who are raped, by either other men or women, often ejaculate. Do not blame yourself.”

“Yes, but do they want to do it, or is their body just responding?”

“I do not know. I do know that I have had sex with people I did not want to have sex with, and in some cases I have enjoyed it.” He sighed. “I am worried that you will blame yourself for this thing. Think about it from start to finish. Where did you cause events to unfold?”

I did as he asked, and my conclusion was the same as his. I didn’t start it, I just went with it. I clung to that as a string, a link to sanity. Jean-Claude returned with a new cop, and they asked me some basic questions, and then got into details. I hesitated to answer, because I didn’t want to relive the event, and because I was embarrassed.

“Will, this man has a history of child molestation. You can help him and society, if you tell us the events,” the interrogator said.

“You are not on trial here,” Jean-Claude added. “There is no recourse to you.”

“I don’t want this to be a publicity thing for my family,” I said.

“More than it already is?” Stef asked me. “Do not worry about that. I suspect I have created enough scandals to eclipse anything you might do.”

“Is that a challenge?” I asked him, joking.

“Most definitely not,” he said. “Although you should tell your father that is your plan when he is recovered from this.” That made me laugh, and after that brief interlude, I steeled myself to tell them of my exploits, leaving out my own introspective thoughts.

In the end, the thing was done, and the cop told me I was free to leave. “Where’s my father?” I asked Jean-Claude.

“His interview may take longer,” he said.

“What will happen to them?” I asked of our assailants.

“I am not sure that Dr. Cambronne’s connections will be enough to get him off the hook this time,” the lawyer said. “For the other two, they will do jail time.”

“Let us wait with everyone else,” Stef said. “We sent them back to the apartment.” I started to object, but he stopped me. “He will need some time alone with Robbie anyway.”

“Can I tell him that I’m leaving?” I asked.

They arranged that, allowing me to interrupt my dad in his session with the cops to tell him we were going, then headed back to the apartment. Everyone was waiting for me; it was pretty overwhelming. I put on my game face, and then managed to excuse myself. I went into the bathroom and took a very long shower.

July 23, 2000

Paris, France

Gathan

Once again, Kristin, Darius, Ella, and I were prowling the city on our own. Well, that wasn’t quite accurate. It was the four of us, plus two guards to keep an eye on us. After what happened with Brad and Will, none of us was brave enough to argue about it. We were all pretty introspective, just walking and thinking, and not saying too much.

“Let’s go on a cruise,” Kristin suggested.

“To where?” Darius asked.

“On the Seine,” she said. The guards led us to the bateaux that plied the river, and we managed to book seats for a dinner cruise. “This is so romantic,” she said.

“I’m worried about my dad,” Darius said, being a buzz-kill.

“He’ll be back when we’re done,” Ella chided, getting into the spirit of things. We ended up having a nice dinner, and then I led Kristin to a secluded part of the stern where we could talk and make out.

“Thanks for bringing me to Paris,” she said. “This is the best time I’ve ever had.”

“Me too,” I said. “Being here with you is like a dream.”

“Not a nightmare?” she joked.

“No, a dream,” I asserted. “I never thought I’d be lucky enough to date a girl like you.”

“Because I’m rich?”

She was being playful, so I was playful right back. “Dude, I can get rich girls any day.”

“Oh? Which ones?”

“Well now that I’m with you, I can’t show you, can I? Or is that allowed?”

“I don’t know. Is it?”

“What do you mean?” She just stared at me. “You do this to me, you take a playful conversation and get serious all of a sudden, and you expect me to follow along. If you’re going to do that, you have to explain things to the slow crowd.”

She rolled her eyes. “Alright, for the slow crowd, are you telling me you want to see other people?”

“No,” I said firmly.

She looked at me, sheer determination in her eyes. “Gathan, that’s fine when we’re together, but what about this fall, when you’re in California? You’re at a party, probably drunk, and some girl is hitting on you. Do you want that commitment?”

“Oh no you don’t,” I said. “That’s not fair. What about when you’re at a party and you’re hammered, and Josh Grover is done with his community college class and he’s hitting on you?” She laughed at that.

“That’s a no-brainer. He’s a moron.” I laughed at that because I was glad she thought he was a moron too.

“Seriously, do you want that kind of commitment?”

“I asked you first,” she said. I didn’t answer right away, and I saw her get all hurt.

“Don’t get mad at me. This is a big question, and I’m thinking about it.”

“You want your freedom?”

Then I got what this was about. This wasn’t a question about what happens in the fall, this was a question about how much I cared about her. “Hell no. You’re all I need.”

“Then what’s the issue?”

“I’m wondering if you want your freedom.”

“Not being with you isn’t freedom,” she said. “Not being with you would be miserable.”

“Yep,” I quipped with a smile, and kissed her. It would have been the perfect opportunity to tell her that I loved her, but something was holding me back. I was pretty sure that I did, but saying those words was a big deal to me, and I wasn’t going to do it until I was absolutely sure.

 

July 23, 2000

Paris, France

Will

After my shower I’d gone into our room and crashed, ignoring everyone else there. I wasn’t really tired; I just didn’t want to talk to anyone, especially about what happened. I’d been pretending to sleep for about an hour when a knock at the door heralded the arrival of my dad.

“I didn’t wake you up, did I?” he asked.

“No,” I said, and jumped up to give him a big hug. “What happened?”

“They asked me a lot of questions about what Jerry and Cambronne said,” he said flippantly. “Robbie ended up getting the third degree, but he did just fine. They dredged up this whole thing with Neil all over again.”

“He was a mess,” I said.

“Was?” I cracked up at that. “This was hard on him, because he feels responsible, since it involved Neil.”

“Whatever. He didn’t get abducted.”

“Did they hurt you?” he asked.

“Not physically,” I replied. “Did they hurt you?” He nodded. “What did they do to you?” Now I was pissed.

“They told me what they were doing to you,” he said. That hit me like a ton of bricks. So not only was I enjoying myself, they were framing it to torture my dad.

“I’m so sorry,” I said, sobbing.

“Why? It’s not your fault.”

“What did they tell you?”

He obviously paraphrased what they’d said to him, but it sounded pretty much like what happened. “Is that true?”

“Pretty much,” I agreed.

“Then why is that your fault?”

“Because I liked it.”

“Will, Gustave is a handsome man,” he said. “It’s not unreasonable for you to get into it.”

“Yes it is. He was the enemy. Not only that, they were using it to torture you. I should have been stronger.”

“And what would you have done?”

“I would have hated every minute of it,” I said defiantly.

“You’re setting standards for yourself that no one could meet.”

“Dad, when they busted into my room, he was about to fuck me. I’d begged him to put a condom on, and he’d agreed. He was there, on top of me, about to plunge in, when the gendarmes broke down the door.”

“So? Just in the nick of time, I’d say.”

“Yeah, only I wanted him to, and I was disappointed when they interrupted us.”

“So? I’m sure what he did to you felt good. I’ve had sex with people I didn’t like. Just because the person was an ass didn’t mean that I didn’t enjoy it at the physical level.”

“I guess I thought sex and love were partners,” I told him. I always thought you were supposed to be into the person.

“They are, for it to be good. But there’s also sex just for release. That can be good, it can be bad, or it can be neither, just a release. Regardless, it’s never as good as having sex with someone you really love.”

“Why could I do it with Gustave, and not with John?” I asked him, digging deep into my psyche.

“Gustave is an experienced seductor. You aren’t the first guy he’s talked into bed, and I’m sure he knows what he’s doing when he gets there.” That was certainly true.

“Kind of like Cody?”

He chuckled. “Yeah, kind of like Cody. John’s probably not as experienced. I bet if John did those same things to you, it would have worked.”

“How can I even talk to him?” I asked despondently. “He must be so disgusted by me.”

“Actually, he’s really worried about you,” Dad said calmly. “I think he wants to be there for you like a friend should be, but he doesn’t know how to do that.”

“He knows, I just won’t let him,” I said truthfully.

“I think you should tell him,” Dad said, getting up to leave. “I’ve found it’s better to be open with your partner.”

“He’s not my partner.”

“He’s the 13-year-old equivalent of your partner,” he said, giving me shit. I smacked him playfully, and then he changed the subject. “I think we should probably head home.”

“Aren’t we leaving on the 25^th?”

“That was the original plan, but I figured after this, you’d want to go now.”

“I kind of do, but I want to see Grand’s talk, and to be here at least to wish Gathan a happy birthday. I can make it another day.”

“I’ll go see if Robbie can,” he said.

“He’s not mad at me, is he?”

“No, why would he be mad at you?”

I sighed. “He offered to stay with me when I talked to the cops, but I picked Stef instead.”

He looked around conspiratorially, as if making sure no one was listening. “Good choice.” That cracked me up. “He’s fine. Don’t worry about it.” I gave him one more hug, and then he left. Before he could shut the door, John pushed in.

“Is it OK if I’m here?” he asked skittishly.

“It’s your room too.”

“That’s not what I meant,” he said, kind of pissed off. That pulled me back into the situation, and reminded me that I owed it to him to be fair and honest.

“I know. I’m sorry; I just needed a little time by myself.”

He smiled and sat next to me. “I’m used to that; it’s what you do. You process things.”

“I do,” I admitted.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Yeah, I do, but not right now. Is that OK? I’m just tired and worn out.”

“I’ll let you get your rest,” he said, and got ready to leave.

“Will you stay here with me? I may not be very good company, but I’d like it if you’d put up with me anyway.”

“I was hoping you’d ask me to.” There was kind of an uncomfortable pause, and that was unusual for us. “Want to play some video games before we go to bed?”

“Yeah, only this time I’m kicking your ass,” I threatened.

“We’ll see about that,” he said, tossing me a controller. We spent about an hour playing games, enough to wear me out. I yawned and stretched. “You’re tired?”

“You’re Einstein?” I teased. “Duh.”

I went into the bathroom and got ready for bed. I wanted to take my boxers off; we always slept together nude. I tried, I actually pulled them down, but I couldn’t. I walked into the room and got in bed, and I could tell that he noticed and was upset. “You sure you don’t want to sleep alone?”

“I’m just feeling really dirty right now, and it’s like I need to have this layer on,” I said. I felt the tears rising, and tried to hide them, but it was no use. He did what I knew he’d do: he held me in his arms and let me cry like a big pussy.