Streak - 30. Chapter 30

November 10, 2002

San Francisco International Airport

San Mateo County, CA

Brad

The huge 747 slowed to a crawl as it landed on the runway, and then turned onto the taxiway for the short trip to the terminal. I smiled over at Marc, who looked out the window intently. “The City looked so beautiful from the air.”

“It’s even more beautiful when you’re there,” I said.

“Because I’m beautiful or because the City is beautiful?” he asked playfully.

“Both,” I answered. “You’ll love it.”

“Thanks for inviting me to stay here with you,” he said. “It’s nice to have a place to go.”

“Marc, even if we weren’t dating, you could come stay with us,” I said. He beamed at me, and I understood how insecure he must be about all of this. He was in limbo, and not having a place to really call home must be really disorienting. I realized that I’d been purposefully cautious when I talked about us, because I didn’t want to lead him on. At the same time, I’d been keeping him on edge, making his uncertain future seem even more uncertain.

“That may be a little strange,” he said.

“Not really. Just because two people can’t be lovers doesn’t mean they can’t be friends.”

“I’ve constantly been in a relationship since I was seventeen,” he said. “I’ve always had someone there. I like that. But it’s hard to imagine just being friends with one of the guys I’ve been with.”

“You’re only 27. You can learn new tricks if you have to,” I teased. “I’m hoping you don’t.”

“So am I,” he said. “How are we getting to Escorial?”

“They’ll send a car for us,” I told him. I’d sent the arrival info to Pedro, so he already knew the deal.

“They don’t come and meet you at the airport?” he asked, referring to my family members.

“No,” I said. “That’s pretty unusual. We all travel a lot, so unless there’s some special reason, dragging yourself to the airport and back is a hassle. None of us expect it, so it’s not a big deal.”

“Oh.”

“Why? Do you do that?”

He nodded. “Sam used to travel for business once in a while, and I usually went to pick him up. I didn’t do it as often for David.”

“When you have your own plane, you’re more flexible, and that makes it harder for other people to adjust their schedules,” I said, another reason we didn’t have welcoming committees. “I guess it’s just so routine, that it’s not a big deal.”

“I can see that,” he said. I could almost watch his mind struggling to adapt to my way of life, and to how different it was from what he was used to. All of his boyfriends, even the guy he’d dated in high school, had been significantly older than him, and relatively wealthy. He was used to rich guys, but he wasn’t used to guys as rich as I was. He’d told me that Sam was making about $300,000 annually when he died, while David was pushing close to double that amount. That was enough to live well, but not to have private jets.

We got off the plane first, another nice thing about flying first class, and managed to trudge through Immigration and Customs without too much trouble. Every time I flew on a commercial plane, I appreciated my Gulfstream just that much more. We walked out of the secured area and I was pretty surprised to see Will waiting for us. “Welcome home!” he said enthusiastically, and gave me a big hug.

“Thanks, it’s good to see you,” I said.

He gave Marc a ‘man hug’, where he shook his hand and gave him a slight embrace. “It’s good to see you too. Are you staying with us?”

“I am,” Marc said nervously.

“Awesome! Will you be around on Wednesday?”

“That’s the plan,” Marc said, loosening up a bit.

“I’m planning to sneak out of school early,” he said in a conspiratorial voice. “Let’s go do something.”

Marc smiled at him. “I’d like that.” We got to the car, and Pedro loaded our luggage into the back of the Suburban while we settled in for the ride home. We sat facing forward, while Will sat across from us. “I thought you said people didn’t come to the airport?”

“I’d say that someone wanted to make sure you felt welcome,” I said, looking at Will. He gave me a mildly annoyed look, but it was faked. I didn’t know if someone had coached him on how to handle Marc, and how to make him feel welcome, or if he’d figured that out himself, but regardless, he was really putting himself out there, and I knew he was doing it for me. I smiled at him, and he smiled back. “Thanks.”

“My pleasure,” he said, and then turned back to Marc. “So I’ve got you on Wednesday, and Stef is planning to take you shopping on Thursday.”

“I didn’t know that,” Marc said. “How’d you know I’d even be here that long?”

“Dude, you’re freaking gorgeous, and my dad’s not a complete idiot,” he said, making us laugh. “So how long are you planning to be here?”

“For a couple of weeks,” he said.

“At least,” I added, and got a grateful look from Marc.

“So you planned out my schedule?” Marc asked Will, warming up to him.

“I did. You have a couple of hours after you get home to rest and spend some time alone,” he said, leering at us.

“Smart boy,” Marc said, but in a playful way. It was amazing that being called a boy didn’t piss Will off.

“I am,” Will said, being cocky. “Then you get your first riding lesson.”

“I’m not sure about that,” Marc said nervously.

“Dude, it’s going to happen whether you want it to or not,” he said. Marc looked irritated. “Nana is staying with us.”

That made me laugh. “Nana?” Marc asked me.

“Nana is Wade’s grandmother. She’s a pretty formidable woman. It’s usually a good idea to just do what she tells you to do. And riding horses is her big passion,” I explained.

“Seriously,” Will said, to emphasize my statement.

“Alright. It may be fun,” Marc agreed reluctantly.

I held Marc’s hand. “It will be. We’ll do it together.” How Will managed to avoid giving me some sort of sarcastic look was amazing, since that was pretty corny.

“Then it will be fun,” Marc said.

“Tomorrow, Stef said you have meetings,” Will said to me.

“I do, pretty much all day,” I agreed.

“After riding, I’m going to show you the gym. That way I get to see you in gym clothes,” Will said, flirting shamelessly. But whereas Marc would have freaked out about that earlier, now he was relaxing.

“I look hot,” he said, cracking us up.

“No doubt,” Will said. “And then, so you have something to do tomorrow, I’m going to show you Dad’s art studio. He’ll share it with you.”

“I will,” I affirmed, even as I marveled at what a good idea that was. For some idiotic reason, I’d forgotten that space in the attic.

“You have a studio?”

“It’s actually in the attic, in the south wing of Escorial,” I explained. “When I was in high school, JP had it finished off for me and another relative who was into pottery. It was pretty derelict, but after 9-11, Will fixed it up for me so I’d have something to do besides making myself miserable.”

“And you’re willing to share?” he asked.

“Absolutely.” I told him all about it, so he’d know what kind of supplies were up there.

“That’s fantastic. Maybe I’ll be able to get some work done,” he mused.

“It’s Sunday night, and this looks like it’s going to be a big dinner,” Will said, smirking at me. Everyone would want to meet Marc. Marc looked at me questioningly.

“Sunday dinners at Escorial are more formal. We usually wear a jacket, but a tie isn’t required. And any family member who’s close to Escorial is obligated, more or less, to show up,” I explained.

“And dinners at Escorial are always at seven o’clock,” Will added. “Grand hates it when people aren’t there at exactly seven, so if you’re more than a few minutes late, you’re better off just skipping dinner entirely.”

“JP has his weird hang-ups,” I augmented. “He’s OCD about punctuality.”

“Just like Dad’s a control freak, Grand is OCD,” Will said, giving me shit and sticking up for JP at the same time.

We got back to Escorial to find JP and Stef waiting to greet us. They were courteous, but kept things brief, recognizing that we’d had a long day of travel. “Can I use the restroom?” Marc asked.

“Dude, you don’t have to ask if you can use it, but you may have to ask where they are,” Will joked. He led Marc over to a paneled wall near the Great Hall and pressed on it, making the door pop open. That had been one of the additions Ben had made. The door to the bathroom was incorporated into the wood paneling, so you couldn’t really tell it was there. He did it, he said, to keep the lines of the wood from being interrupted by a door, but I think he actually put it in just because it was slick.

“That’s cool!” Marc marveled. “A secret bathroom.”

After Marc vanished into the bathroom, I walked up to Will and gave him a really big hug. “Thank you so much for putting yourself out there to make him feel welcome.”

“I can tell he’s important to you,” Will said sincerely. “He needs to feel comfortable here.”

Marc came out of the bathroom, and I made to lead him down to my room, but Will stopped us. “You didn’t get to see much of the house when you were here before.”

“I didn’t,” Marc said.

“We’ll explore later, but I want to show you something,” he said, and led us into the Great Hall.

“You have some amazing art in here!” Marc said, looking at some of the paintings.

“This one is my favorite,” Will said, standing in front of the painting I’d done.

“Mine too!” Marc said. “I love all this roughage. It gives it so much dimension.”

“It’s pretty special,” Will said.

“Who painted this one?” Marc asked.

“I did,” I said. He looked at me with a whole new level of respect, one that was really good for my artistic ego. “I painted it after my brother was killed in a car accident. The roughage you see is remnants from the wreck.”

Marc shook his head slowly. “Intense.” Then I was finally able to escape with him back to my room, where I showed him what intense really was.

November 10, 2002

Logan International Airport

Boston

Wade

I wanted to make this homecoming special, not just for Matt, but for the whole team, so I’d turned into an organizational dynamo. The end result of that was in front of me. I’d managed to round up ten of the guys on the team who didn’t go to Sydney, plus we’d picked up some other people who had come to greet the returning victors, so there were over twenty of us arrayed outside of security. Two of the guys held up a huge banner that said:

Congratulations Boston Lobsters

Hockey Gold Medal Winners

2002 Gay Games, Sydney, Australia

The background was in bright red with the lettering in white, our team colors.

We stood there, most of the people shuffling their feet in an agitated way, showing their impatience and excitement for these guys to start walking out of the secured area. We’d gotten a few sneers from people who read our banner, but there were too many of us, and we were too big and imposing, for anyone to fuck with us.

The first person to exit was Matt, appropriately enough. He was wearing his gold medal, which was pretty cheesy, but I’d had the boyfriend of one of the players call his partner and tell them to wear them so we could take pictures when they arrived. We all cheered loudly, continuing on as the other guys came out. Matt’s eyes locked on mine, forging a deep connection, even as he strode toward me. “I missed you, baby,” he said, and then gave me a massive hug, and huge kiss, right there in Logan Airport.

“I missed you more,” I said with a smile.

“You organized all this,” he accused, looking at the banner.

“Duh,” I said, getting a laugh from him. I broke away from him and gave each of the guys a card. It had a congratulatory note, along with a $500 gift card good at the local hockey shop. Each of them gave me a hug, and Sharpie even planted a big kiss on me, which was funnier than anything. I had a photographer there to take pictures of the guys as they came out, and to take other random shots, then we made the team get together and took a group photo of our gold medal champs.

After that was done, the coach walked up to me, with an uncharacteristically huge smile on his face. I gave him and the assistant coach cards too. “Thank you, Wade. This trip would not have been so successful without your help.”

“You’re welcome,” I said, smiling back. He stopped smiling and looked at me more formally, while the other people gathered around us.

“I talked to the team, and even though you weren’t with us in person, you were there with us in spirit. Every detail we didn’t have to sweat, from the hotels, to the transportation, that was all you. This is as much your victory as our victory,” he said. Then he reached into his travel bag, pulled out a gold medal, and put it over my head. Everyone cheered for me, while I blushed so I was as red as our uniforms.

“Thanks,” I said, and found myself pretty speechless.

“No, thank you,” he said. A bunch of the guys patted me on the back, and then we all left, going to our respective homes. The banner was carefully rolled up. It would be hung up at the ice rink to commemorate this win.

We got in the limo, I put up the privacy screen, and then I was all over Matt. “Dude, what got into you?” he asked, finally breaking off the lip lock I had him in.

“Am I bothering you?” I asked, sounding like the male version of a Southern Belle.

“No, you just aren’t normally this fired up,” he said. Then I got the subtext of what he was saying. In the past, when I’d been dating other guys, that had gotten my libido going so I was even more of an animal with him. By acting this way, I made him think I’d been with someone else. I gave him a dirty look, and got pissed off pretty fast that he wouldn’t trust me. He read me, and he freaked out. “I’m sorry. It’s been a long ass day, with a long ass flight.”

“You thought I was with someone else, and that’s why I was so horny,” I accused.

“That’s not it, Wade,” he said. “Cut me a little slack. Please?” He was right. It was a little bit ridiculous for me to lose it for a silly mistake he made when he was seriously jet-lagged.

“When I’ve been with other guys, it has fired me up, and made me want you even more,” I told him. “Only now, I don’t need those other guys to do that. Now, just being with you is enough to turn me into a wild man.” I all but whispered that last sentence into his ear, and felt him stiffen up as he got really horny. Of course, that happened just as we pulled up to the house, so we had to try desperately to get our erections to deflate. The whole thing was funny, and we were laughing our asses off by the time we got out of the car.

Tiffany, JJ, and Alex were waiting for us, to give Matt a big welcome. Rosa and Josetta came out and gave him big hugs as well, and Rosa promised him a big dinner in an hour. With that as our time limit, I dragged him up to our room.

“Dude, I need a shower, but I want to fuck you,” he said, acting conflicted.

“I have a solution to that problem,” I said, leering at him. We ripped off our clothes, and made love in the shower.

We got dressed for dinner, then relaxed in our room, enjoying some time to ourselves. It had a sitting area, with a sofa, a couple of chairs, a couch, and a television, while off to the side was a desk. I liked to come up here to study. It was like my own cave. Matt and I sat close to each other on the couch, unwilling to be far enough apart that we couldn’t touch each other. “We had a big party last night,” he said, but he was nervous.

“Cool. Was it fun?”

“It turned out differently than I thought it would,” he said, and the tension levels went up.

“Were you with someone?” I asked calmly. He was trying to figure out if it was an act, and quite frankly, so was I. But I’d told him he could hook up with people if he wanted, so I had no grounds to bitch.

“Not exactly.” I just stared at him, demanding that he complete the story. This wasn’t one of those things you could start and not finish. “The party was in my suite, and we all got really hammered. Sharpie invited these two Australian gymnasts, along with some other people, but by the end of the evening, it was just me, Sharpie, Wind, Walrus, and three other guys, plus the two gymnasts.”

“Were the gymnasts hot?”

“Dude, they were smoking hot,” he said with a grin, then got nervous, then relaxed. “They were short. I’d say one was 5’3”, and the other was a little taller, maybe 5’5”. Totally fit bodies.”

“I’ll bet, if they were gymnasts,” I said, to encourage him.

“So those two were talking about all these tricks they could do, and Sharpie challenged them to prove it, but they couldn’t do it with their clothes on, so they stripped down and started doing all these maneuvers on the carpet. One of the dudes could suck his own dick, and they both did the splits like it was as easy as walking down the street.” I gulped, thinking about how hot that would be.

“Two cute, naked gymnasts in your room, with seven gay hockey players?” I laughed. “That’s a porno.”

“They were totally hairless. They claimed they shaved everywhere. Sharpie told them to prove it, so one of them comes over to him and bends over, exposing his cute little ass, which Sharpie started playing with, of course.”

“Of course,” I said, visualizing the scene so well I was hard as a rock.

“So then it kind of turned into an orgy,” he said.

I wanted to ask him if he participated, but that seemed too cold, so instead I focused on Walrus, who had a serious partner. “Did Walrus join in?”

“Those gymnast twinks pulled a fucking train. Sharpie fucked the guy whose ass he’d played with, blew his load, then Wind went next. By the time he was done, Sharpie was ready to go at it with the other one.”

“So what were you doing?” I asked, working hard to keep my voice even.

“Walrus and I sat on the couch, watching them, and jacked off,” he said. “Our legs rubbed against each other, and that was kind of hot. Walrus has a short, thick dick.”

I laughed. “Dude, you could have joined in. I told you I was good with it.”

He didn’t really hear me. “When I got ready to blow, I stood up and walked over to one of the twinks and shot my load all over him. Those guys had their hands all over me, but I wouldn’t let them do more than just touch me.”

“That sounds pretty hot,” I said. “Then what happened?”

“I went to bed and passed out.”

“Alone?”

“Of course,” he snapped.

“I don’t get why you’re so nervous about this,” I said. “Shit, even if I wouldn’t have told you that you could fuck around with some guy while you were there, I wouldn’t have been pissed at you for that.”

“I’m sorry. It’s just that I was doing really well. And the truth is, I didn’t even want to fuck anyone. I can honestly say that I wasn’t tempted the whole time I was there. If it wasn’t like there was a fucking porno going on in front of me, I wouldn’t have done shit,” he said.

“Matt, you’re beating yourself up over something that I would have done too. While you’re doing that, I’m sitting here thinking about how proud of you I am, and how happy you make me.”

He smiled and kissed me. “I love you too.”

“Just because you fucked around in college doesn’t mean I think you’re going to do that now,” I told him, and made him look into my eyes. “I trust you.”

He gave me another kiss, and then we went down and had a really nice dinner.

November 11, 2002

Escorial

Will

I drove up to the garage and pulled into my spot, turning off the Ferrari even as I smiled. This was one awesome ride. Joe was over in the corner, polishing up Stef’s Porsche, even though it rarely got driven. Joe was the guy in charge of our vehicles. He cleaned them up, maintained them, and if he had extra time, he did odd jobs around the house. He was part mechanic, part auto detailer, and part handyman. “Hey Joe,” I said cheerfully. I usually wasn’t all that talkative when I got home from school, but I made it a point to be pleasant to the staff.

“Good afternoon,” he said, but sounded grumpy.

“What’s wrong?”

“Someone is using my shop,” he said. That was not a little annoying, since the shop attached to the garage wasn’t ‘his’, but he was the one who used it the most, so I guess he figured that made it his.

“Who?”

“Your father’s friend,” he said. Marc was using the shop?

I shrugged and put my book bag down, and headed to the back of the garage, where there was a door that opened up into a large, well-lit workroom. There were all kinds of tools in here. Everything from a miter saw, like the one I’d used to cut my father’s shoes in half, to a wet saw, so they could cut tiles to fix any that broke in the house. Toward the back, I saw someone dressed in coveralls and a hooded mask, holding what must be a welder, since I saw a bright flame assaulting the metal.

I walked over to him and saw there were two panels sitting to the side, while he was finishing up a third one. Each of them was probably about four feet in height, and two feet wide. They looked like flat pieces of aluminum, with some sort of rectangular framing behind them. The welder stopped, and Marc pulled the mask off, grinning at me. “I decided to be constructive.”

“Dude, I never would have guessed I’d see you welding,” I said, laughing. He frowned, but it was a fake frown. “You’re too pretty to weld.”

“It’s part of my art,” he said. “Here, grab one of those panels.” I did, while he took the other two, and I followed him through the house to the studio. They were pretty light, since they were aluminum, but they were also pretty bulky.

“I didn’t know we had a welder out there,” I said.

“You do,” he replied with a smile. “In fact, the only things I had to go buy was aluminum, paint, a hand sander, and a grinder.”

“What do you do with the grinder? Is that what you use to smooth the edges?”

“No, I’ll file those,” he said. “I used the grinder to make a pattern in the aluminum. When I’m done painting it, it will give it almost a three dimensional look.”

“No shit?” I asked. “That must look really cool.”

“You haven’t seen the picture I did that’s in your New York condo?”

“Not yet,” I said. “I haven’t been back there recently.”

He wiped off his hands and pulled out a laptop. It took him a bit to boot it up, but then he found some pictures that he’d taken at our place in Tribeca. “That looks incredible,” I said. “And it’s perfect for that wall.”

“It is,” he agreed. “That’s how I met your father. I went over to take some pictures of my picture.” We chuckled at that. “That piece was one of my favorites, so I wanted to see it in its new home.”

“Do you get really attached to your art? Is it hard to part with it?”

“Not really, but the good pieces are a little tougher. It’s kind of like when your dog has puppies, and you want to make sure the puppies go to a good home.” I nodded, even though I didn’t know much about the puppy process. We’d never had indoor animals here at Escorial, presumably because they’d mess up the furniture.

“I was going to see if you wanted to take a break and go see Palo Alto, but I don’t want to mess you up if you’re on a roll,” I said.

“Nope, the panels have to cool anyway,” he said. “I need about half an hour to get ready. Maybe a little longer.”

“Sounds good,” I said pleasantly. “I’ll be in the kitchen. You can usually find me there.”

He walked into the kitchen thirty minutes later, and I almost felt bad about that, worried that we’d stressed the punctuality around here a bit too much. I finished my sandwich, took out my keys, and led him out to the garage. “Nice car.”

“Robbie bought it for my father, to apologize for being a total douche,” I said, but in kind of a joking way. “Dad likes Porsches better, so when I got my license, I talked him into giving me this one.”

“That’s one hell of a sixteenth birthday present,” he said.

“Stef’s present was better. He gave me a building in Chicago that has the best gay bar in town.” We laughed at that.

“So where are you taking me?”

“I figured I’d show you where Dad works.” He perked up at that. It was a short drive to their offices.

“This is a slick building,” he said. It was really modern, with a cool fountain in front.

“Wait until you see the inside,” I said. We walked in and it was just as modern inside. Stef had really done a good job with it.

“Hello Will,” the receptionist said. Her name was Brenda, and she’d seen me here lots of times. “You need a badge.”

We filled out badges for Marc and me, and then I led him around the company until we got to Dad’s office. “Hey Grace!” I said cheerfully, and gave her a nice hug. She was my father’s assistant, and an awesome lady.

“It’s good to see you.” She looked at Marc and smiled. “You must be Marc Carmine.”

“My reputation precedes me,” he said, even as he shook her hand.

“You’re one of my favorite people.”

“I am?” he asked, looking confused.

“You’re the reason my boss is in such a good mood,” she said, making us chuckle. “He’s in a meeting.”

“Don’t bother him,” Marc said hastily.

“I’ll take Marc over to say hi to Stef,” I said. His assistant was a dour, older woman, but she let us peek in and wave hello to Stef. He had a conference call, though, so that was pretty much all we had time for. We went back to my father’s world, and this time Grace used our arrival to end his meeting.

Dad ushered two men and a woman out, then smiled big at us. “Good to see you guys.” He looked at Marc. “I see you found a tour guide.”

“I got home and found him in the workshop, welding,” I said. “He looks hot when he does it.”

“I look hot when I do anything,” Marc said, and we both laughed, mostly because he had been pretty uptight before, but he was starting to loosen up around us.

“This much is true,” Dad said. “So what are you doing?”

“I’m taking him on a tour of Paly,” I said. “This is our first stop. Next up is Stanford.”

“Those are the two main attractions,” he said. “I have another meeting. I’ll see you both at dinner.” He gave me a hug, and Marc a nice kiss. We left after that, and hopped in the car to drive down to Stanford.

“Does it bother you that your dad is dating younger guys?” he asked.

“He’s only dated a few guys since Robbie died,” I said, and then had to pause and get my emotions under control. “All of them were younger. He’s in really good shape, and he’s pretty young at heart, so it makes sense he’d do better with someone who isn’t as old as he is.”

“I’ve always dated older guys,” he said.

“Me too,” I said, which was pretty much true.

“It was a little strange at first. I’ve never dated a guy who had kids.”

I thought about that. “I have a lot of friends who have step parents. It seems that there are two basic attitudes they seem to take. One is that they try to be another parent, but that doesn’t usually work real well.”

“I’m not a step parent, but I see what you’re saying. I couldn’t pull that off anyway.”

“The other approach is to just be a friend,” I said.

“Let’s work with that,” he said, smiling at me.

“Sounds good to me.”