Streak - 31. Chapter 31

November 11, 2002

Stanford University

Palo Alto, CA

Will

“This place is really unique,” Marc said as we walked around the campus.

“Where did you go to college?”

“Massachusetts College of Art,” he said. “It’s in Boston.”

“I think I’ll probably go to school out here in California,” I told him.

“Here?” he asked, referring to Stanford.

“I don’t know,” I said. “I grew up around Stanford, so it would almost seem weird to go here.” It seemed like you were supposed to do something different for college, and Stanford wasn’t really different.

We were walking through the Quad when a familiar figure appeared in front of me, and almost walked right by me until he recognized me. “Hey! You going here now?” Tony asked, joking with me.

“Hey,” I said, and gave him a big hug. “This is Marc Carmine. Marc, this is Tony Carbone.”

“Nice to meet you,” Tony said, flirting with his eyes as he shook Marc’s hand. I guess his time with Matt had turned him into a total wolf.

“Nice to meet you,” Marc said, and got uncomfortable.

“I was just showing Marc around campus,” I told him.

“Cool. I gotta run. Got a class. Wanna do dinner or something?”

“Sure,” I said, even though I wasn’t sure that I wanted to really rebuild my friendship with Tony. We were good, but he was at a distance. I didn’t really want him much closer. He ambled off, and we continued walking.

“Who was that?” Marc asked.

“Tony Carbone,” I said, getting a frustrated look from him, since that’s not what he meant. “He’s the guy who taught me that bottoming can be fucking earth shaking.”

He chuckled at that. “He’s pretty hot. You’re not together anymore?”

I shook my head. “He has issues committing, and living up to his promises.”

“He cheated on you?”

“More or less,” I said.

“I can’t do that, and I can’t deal with it,” he said bitterly.

“I hear you. I need to know the deal on the front end, and then I need the dude to live up to it. So if it’s an open relationship, that’s fine, but if it’s not, he better not fuck up. Tony fucked up. A couple of times, actually,” I said.

“Even when my boyfriends have cheated on me, I haven’t,” he said.

“Dude, really?” He nodded. “My father will appreciate that. He’s a really loyal guy, but he can’t handle betrayal.”

“Most people have a tough time with that,” he said.

“He and Robbie were monogamous for fourteen years, and my dad was just fine with it. Darius and I talked about how amazing that was, especially since we grew up in Malibu, and Robbie worked in Hollywood. That’s a tough town to be faithful in.”

“Because of all the beautiful people?”

“Yeah, and because it’s not really a huge social taboo. Shit, most of my friends had parents who were divorced at least once.” I paused. “Some guys have problems doing that, just committing to one guy. Tony was like that, and so was Robbie. My father isn’t like that at all.”

“I didn’t mean to grill you about this,” he said.

I shrugged. “It’s nothing I wouldn’t say in front of my father. Besides, didn’t we decide we were friends?”

“I haven’t had many friends.”

“Why not? Are you a douchebag?”

He gave me a dirty look, then saw me grinning and shook his head. “Asshole. I guess I’ve had a boyfriend constantly since I was seventeen, and I haven’t really had friends that weren’t ‘our’ friends.”

“Well now you do,” I said cheerfully. We headed back to the car and got in, and I’d just started driving away when his phone rang.

“I should take this,” he said, with dread in his voice.

“Go ahead,” I said. “If it’s noisy, I can pull over.”

“It will be fine,” he said, then answered the phone. I didn’t really want to eavesdrop on his conversation, but it was hard not to. He was covering up his free ear, like he was having a hard time hearing, so I pulled over and put the top up.

After I did that, I could hear the other voice even though Marc was holding the phone up to his ear. “When are you going to get the rest of your shit?”

“I don’t want it,” Marc said.

“You’re such a stupid fuck,” the other voice said. “You’re going to leave half your fucking clothes here? You don’t have shit for brains.”

“I don’t need them, and I don’t want them,” Marc said firmly, even though his lower lip quivered.

“You are such a fucking loser,” the voice said. “You can’t even paint a fucking picture anymore, and you’re a bum lay. All you’re good for is sitting around and looking pretty.”

“Fuck you,” Marc spat.

“You’re saying that to me? Don’t talk to me like that! You’re not good enough to even think that about talking to me like that!”

“Don’t call me again. Ever,” Marc said.

“Right,” the voice said. “When Schluter figures out what a dumb fuck you are, come find me. If you beg, maybe I’ll fuck you once in a while.”

“You and I will never be together again,” Marc said, then ended the call. He sat there, visibly shaken and upset, saying nothing while we drove home.

“He was wrong,” I told him.

“You heard him?” he asked me, all upset.

“Dude, he was fucking yelling at you,” I said. “Who the fuck was that?”

“That was David, the guy I was with,” he said.

“Did he always treat you like that?”

“Not always, but he’s been pretty mean for the last few months.” He got nervous. “He doesn’t hit me, but he always cuts me down, and tries to make me feel like scum.”

“What an asshole,” I said. “You don’t believe that shit, do you?”

“No,” he said, but I could tell this guy had really deflated his ego.

“You are smoking hot, and you are really talented. No way should you ever put up with shit like that. Ever.”

“Thanks,” he said.

“Did you hear the story about how JJ bought your painting?”

“I don’t think so,” he said.

“He went to an art gallery with a friend of his, the Earl of Bridgemont.”

“The guy’s an earl? Like from England?”

“He is,” I said. “His family has tons of art, that’s why he’s studying it at Harvard.”

“Wow,” he said, thinking about that.

“You haven’t met JJ yet. He’s a total diva, but he has amazingly good taste. Don’t tell Stef, but JJ’s eye for colors and shit is probably better than his.”

“That’s impressive,” Marc said.

“So Alex, that’s the earl, and JJ went to this gallery, and out of all the paintings and stuff there, they picked yours. They sure as fuck didn’t do that because it was the cheapest, they did it because it was good. So you had a guy with amazingly good taste, and you had an English lord who has a massive art collection, both pick your work out of all the others. They picked it because it was that good,” I said.

“It was one of my best creations,” he said.

“So the point is that if you were the dumb fuck that asshole says you are, you wouldn’t be able to make shit like the painting JJ bought,” I said.

“You’re right. The dumbest thing I ever did was stay with David for so long,” he said, with a certain amount of resolve.

“Dude, don’t talk to him again. If he calls, ignore it.” That bothered him. “If you keep talking to him that could fuck things up with my father.”

“You’re not going to tell him about this, are you?” he asked, horrified.

“That’s not why it would fuck up your relationship. It would fuck it up because that dude will mess with your mind, and because it will upset my father if you keep talking to this douchebag you used to go out with,” I explained.

“I can’t be friends with someone else?” he asked acidly.

“That dude is not your friend,” I said emphatically.

We passed through the gates and I drove down the drive and pulled into the garage. “No he’s not,” he said, validating the point I’d made. “Are you going to tell your father about this?”

“No, you are,” I said. He looked terrified. “He will be in your corner, and he will fight for you, and he will back you up.”

“He will,” Marc agreed, which was cool, because it showed how my father had come across like a stand up guy in just a short period of time. I parked the car in the garage, but we sat there, finishing up our conversation.

“Some advice about my father,” I said, and then waited to go on until I had his full attention. “He hates secrets he doesn’t know about. He really hates them. He can handle just about anything if it’s out in the open, but if it’s kept secret from him, he’ll lose it.”

“He already told me about that,” Marc said, and that cracked me up for some reason. “He mentioned that, and he also told me that he’s a control freak.” That made me laugh even harder.

“At least he’s self-aware.” We went into the house, and I gave him some space to grapple with this asshole he used to go out with.

November 11, 2002

Escorial

Brad

I walked through the house and noticed that it was 6:15pm. I just barely had time to achieve my goal. I hurried down to my bedroom, hoping to find Marc there. I opened the door and walked in to find him lying on the bed, on his stomach, stark naked. “I was waiting for you,” he said in his sexiest voice.

I smiled, even as I pulled my pants off. I left the rest of my suit on, figuring it might make things more fun. “I came home early with one thing in mind,” I said, even as I ran my hand across his ass.

“What’s that?”

“Fucking you,” I said. I knelt between his legs and dove in, rimming him for quite a while, then I got the lube and loosened him up, and then finally I was able to achieve my goal. I put a condom on and slowly pushed my dick into him, listening to his whimpers and moans, and using them to adjust my speed. When I was all the way in, I lay still, my body draped over his. “You feel so good.”

“Ahhh,” he moaned. “I like it when you wear your suit.”

“You like that? You like when I’m dressed, and you’re naked, and vulnerable?” I asked in my low, husky voice, even as I started to fuck him.

“I love that!” he said.

“Me too,” I said, and then I really fucked him, taking him on a really nice ride. “Your ass is so tight, so fucking tight, you’re gonna squeeze my load right out of me. Fuck. You’re gonna make me cum! You’re gonna make me cum!”

“Fuck yeah! Blow that load!” he said enthusiastically, and so I did. I rode him until my orgasm ended, and then I slowly pulled out, took off the condom, and threw it away. He rolled over and made to get up, but I stopped him.

“Not so fast,” I said. “I need an appetizer.” I engulfed his cock with my mouth, getting a loud moan for my efforts. I’d gotten him so fired up with our fuck, it didn’t take me long to make him blow. I swallowed his load, every last drop, then squeezed what was left in his cock out and lapped that up too. “You taste so good,” I said, making him giggle.

“I didn’t know if you’d be home in time for that, but I was hoping,” he said.

“So was I.” I’d worked up a sweat, drenching my T-shirt and dress shirt, so I changed into something more casual while he got dressed. “Did you have a good day?”

“I had an awesome day,” he said. “I bought some aluminum and got some panels ready to grind and paint, then I spent the afternoon hanging out with Will.”

That made me really happy. I’d been worried that he would fixate on me, and ignore my sons, and I knew that if that happened, we were done. I was enjoying him, and I was really starting to care about him, so I didn’t want that. “Thanks for doing that, for hanging out with Will.”

“He’s the one who dragged me around,” Marc said. “In a lot of ways, he’s like you.”

“Yeah, and sometimes that’s a really bad thing,” I said, making him chuckle.

“I don’t think so at all,” he said. “You told me he was the smartest of your sons. I haven’t met all of them, but he’s pretty fucking smart.”

“Yes he is,” I told him. He wanted to say something else, but he looked at the clock, and noticed that we only had about ten minutes before dinner. “What?”

“He helped me work something out, something I need to talk to you about,” he said. “I don’t want to be late to dinner, but I know how you hate secrets.”

“Did I do something wrong?” I asked, being paranoid.

“No, David did,” he said.

“Your ex-boyfriend? What did he do?” I demanded, and found myself getting enraged at this guy who may have hurt Marc.

“For the last three months, he really treated me like shit,” he said. I could tell this was a tough conversation for him, and I wanted to know, but I was frustrated that we were so tight on time.

I sighed. “Let’s go eat dinner, and then after that, we can come back here and you can tell me what happened.”

“Thanks,” he said. We walked down the hall together, and I felt his hand slip into mine. “You make me strong. You make me feel good about myself.”

“Those are good things,” I said, smiling at him. We walked into the dining room, and fortunately it was an intimate crowd tonight: JP, Stef, Will, Marc and I. “Good evening,” I said cheerfully.

The grandfather clock started to chime, and Marc smiled at me. “We made it.”

“It was a wonderful treat to see you at work today,” Stef said, even as they brought the food out. It was a casual, family style meal tonight.

“Your offices are really impressive,” Marc said. “Who decorated them?” He knew Stef had done it, he was just flattering him.

“I did,” Stef said, smiling at the compliment.

“You are a man of many talents,” Marc said.

“You have no idea,” Will quipped, making us chuckle. I was hoping for a pleasant meal, but Marc seemed really agitated, and every time he looked at Will, he seemed to get more flustered.

“Did you two have a good time today?” Stef asked Marc and Will. He obviously picked up that something was bothering Marc.

“Did you tell him yet?” Will asked Marc.

“I didn’t have a chance to, yet,” Marc said nervously. This secretiveness was about to blow my patience out of the water, but a steely look from Will calmed me down.

“If you want to talk about it now, you can,” Will said soothingly. “You can trust the people at this table.”

Marc nodded, but JP was concerned about Marc feeling pressured to do something he didn’t want to do. “As my grandson has said, we are merely friendly ears who may be able to help you if you have a dilemma, but I do not want you to feel obligated to discuss personal matters.”

Marc started to talk, but froze up, and couldn’t seem to say anything. He stared at Will and nodded slightly. “David called him today, and was a total asshole on the phone,” Will said. JP and Stef looked at us curiously. “David is Marc’s ex-boyfriend.”

“What did he say to you?” I asked. He sat there, silently, trying to gather the strength to tell us, but instead, he looked to Will to speak for him.

“The guy was a total douche,” Will spat angrily. “He basically told Marc that he had no talent, he was a shitty lover, and that he was stupid as a board. He said Marc was only good at looking pretty. I put it much more nicely than he did, and he was yelling the whole fucking time.”

“I am so sorry,” Stef said sympathetically.

“That is not true!” I said emphatically, referring to what David had told him.

“I already covered the part about how talented he was, and how smart he is, so we know that stuff was bullshit. But I didn’t know anything about how good Marc is in bed or not, so I figured we’d wait and let you explain that,” Will said. He was trying to embarrass me, but also trying to lighten the mood a bit.

“He’s not good, he’s spectacular,” I said. “He was so good; we were almost late for dinner.” Marc really blushed at that, while Stef and Will laughed.

“It’s good because you make it good,” Marc said to me.

“No, it’s good because we make it good,” I corrected.

“Dude, you ever want a second opinion, just let me know,” Will said. That freaked me out a bit, because Marc seemed to recoil when guys flirted with him, but he had gotten to know Will well enough that it didn’t bother him.

“I’m not seeing that,” he said dismissively, making us chuckle.

“So this man you were with spoke to you in a demeaning way, insulting you and eroding your confidence?” JP asked, focusing us back on the issue.

“For the past three months,” Marc said. “It got to the point where I pretty much believed him. I couldn’t paint; I couldn’t do anything.”

“Why didn’t you leave?” Will asked.

“It is not that simple,” JP said, before Marc could answer.

“It seems that way now, like I should have done it, and it should have been so easy for me to see it and do it, but it didn’t seem that way then. I felt really trapped. I felt helpless.”

“Those are the classic signs of an abusive relationship,” JP pronounced.

“He never hit me,” Mark said.

“Physical violence is not required for a relationship to be abusive,” JP said. “And quite frankly, verbal abuse can be just as debilitating.”

“Really?” Will asked. It was typical of him to turn this into a learning moment.

“The point of abuse is to make you powerless, and totally dependent on your abuser. In this way, he destroyed your confidence and self-esteem to the point where you felt you had nowhere to go, or to turn. You feel so worthless, you are sure no one else will want you, and resolve to settle for what you have,” JP said.

Marc looked at JP and blinked, as if getting clarity. “That’s exactly what it was like.”

“How do you know so much about this?” Stef asked him. JP just looked at him and raised an eyebrow, which was pretty funny.

“It is a problem on campuses, and we have gotten some training in it,” he said, and then refocused on Marc. “You must sever ties with him completely. If you don’t, there is a chance he can pull you back into his web and enslave you.”

“That’s not a problem,” Marc said, resolved now.

“I would like to make a recommendation,” JP said. Marc just looked at him. “I think it would be a good idea for you to get some counseling.”

“I’m fine now,” Marc objected.

“And if something goes wrong and you have a setback or a failure?” JP asked him.

“He won’t,” I said, trying to prop Marc up.

“Everyone fails and has setbacks,” JP said to me firmly, then addressed Marc again. “When that happens, people who are abused sometimes go back to their abusers, because they feel they deserve to be demeaned and punished. Or sometimes they feel isolated and alone, and they need company, even abusive company. There are many reasons why someone can return to an abusive relationship.”

Marc said nothing; he just sat there, floundering. “I didn’t realize that’s what was going on. I didn’t think it was abuse unless he hit me.”

“We can help you get through this,” Will said to him. It wasn’t even his words that mattered; it was the very caring tone he used.

“We can,” Stef agreed. JP nodded.

“We can,” I affirmed.

Then tears started to pour out of Marc’s eyes like they were fountains. I put my arm around him supportively. “You can eat dinner later if you aren’t up for it,” I told him, trying to give him an escape hatch.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “It’s just been a really shitty year. I feel like I’ve been in the middle of a nightmare, and you guys just woke me up. It’s a little…disorienting.”

“There is no apology required,” JP said sagely. “It has not been the easiest year for us either, so you are in good company.”

“And now you’re here with us, and you’re safe,” Will said emphatically. Marc smiled and nodded, wiped off his eyes, and then we ate dinner.

November 12, 2002

Lafayette, CA

Zach

“You’re home in time,” Frank said gruffly. He was pissed off about something; I was just hoping he wasn’t pissed at me.

“In time for what?” I asked curiously.

“You’ve got an appointment in fifteen minutes to talk to a counselor.”

“I do?” I asked acidly. They weren’t giving me any notice? Seriously? “Who am I talking to?”

“Your parents talked to the people at Trent’s church, and they have a counselor there. They want you to talk to him,” Frank said.

“Is this guy a real counselor?” What kind of dipshit had they hooked up with?

“They’ve kind of got you by the balls on this one,” Frank said sympathetically.

“Why?”

“Because they went to your church, and found someone there to work with,” he said. I just stared at him, knowing I was completely fucked on this deal. This is where the big lie bit me in the ass. I played off being religious, went to that church and used it as a shield, and now my fucking parents were going to throw it right back into my face.

“Shit,” I said. “So what’s the deal?”

“The counselor met with your parents, and now he wants to talk to you,” Frank said.

“Who is this guy?”

“Alan Peebles,” Frank said. He saw me grimace. “You know him?”

                  “I know him,” I said, knowing things had just gotten a lot worse.  “He’s about 65 years old, a little bit under six feet, and weighs about 275 pounds,” I said.

The Pillsbury Doughboy

“You’re not dating him,” Frank said gruffly, to tell me he didn’t give a shit that the guy looked like the old-age version of the Pillsbury Doughboy.

“You remember that SNL skit, with that dude Stuart Smalley?” I asked, thinking there was no way in hell he’d seen that. I was wrong.

Frank actually imitated him, and it was hilarious. “Because I’m good enough, I’m smart enough, and gosh darn it, people like me.” I almost rolled on the floor I was laughing so hard. “That guy?” Frank asked, when we were done laughing.

Stuart Smalley

“Yeah, he’s like a bitchy version of that guy,” I said.

He put his hand on my shoulder and squeezed in a supportive way. “Just do your best, and try to be positive. Here’s the number.” He handed me Alan’s card.

I waited until it was exactly 5:00, the time of my appointment, and I called. “Hello Zachary,” I heard him say, in his whiny voice.

“Good evening, Mr. Peebles,” I said respectfully.

“Well, we have to get to know each other pretty well in this process, so I think it would be better if you called me Alan,” he said, as if he were doing me the biggest favor in the world by letting me use his first name.

“Thanks Alan,” I said, as if it was an honor for me to be on a first name basis with him.

“Let’s start out with a prayer,” he said. “Bow your head.”

“My head is bowed,” I lied. I was sitting at my desk with my feet up, pushing the chair back onto its two back legs.

“Dear Lord, please be with us as Zach and I work to find solutions to these problems he’s having with his parents. Lord, let your mercy and grace wash over us, bathing us in your love, as we try to remember your mission for us on this earth. Help us put our worldly concerns and squabbles behind, and remember that we love each other, just as you love us. Amen.”

“Amen,” I chimed as I rolled my eyes.

“Let’s start out with a scripture,” he said pleasantly. “God is very clear about how a son should treat his parents. In Colossians 3:20, he says ‘Children, obey your parents in everything, for this pleases the Lord.’” I said nothing. “Do you know what that means, Zach?”

“It means I’m supposed to listen to my parents,” I said.

“That’s right,” he said, as if we’d made some big discovery. “The Lord talks about this in other scriptures as well. He said, in Proverbs, that ‘the eye that mocks a father and scorns to obey a mother will be picked out by the ravens of the valley and eaten by the vultures.” I pulled the phone away from my ear and looked at it in disbelief.

“You’re saying that if I don’t do what my parents tell me, ravens are going to pick out my eyes and vultures are going to eat them?” I asked him sarcastically.

“That’s what the Lord said.” He thought I should actually believe that? What the fuck?

“How does this have anything to do with the issues I have with my parents?” I demanded, because I was losing my patience with him pretty fast.

“It’s important that we use the Bible as our guide. It sets the framework for everything. You have to start from the right place, Zach. You have to acknowledge and understand the Lord’s instructions for you, and keep those in your heart as we go forward,” he said in his faux cheerful way.

“The issue here is that my parents want to jump in and try to ruin my career just because they’re not in control of it,” I said. “I’ve got six scholarship offers to some of the best college football programs in the country. I’m on the right track, and they’re trying to derail me.”

“When I talk to them, that’s not what I hear,” he said.

“What do you hear?”

“I hear how much they love you, and how worried they are about you,” he said. “They think that you’re in a bad environment.”

“Well, they’re wrong,” I said, in probably much too nasty a way.

“And they’re very worried that you’re being led astray, and that your friends will turn you into a homosexual. The Lord says that’s an abomination.” I said nothing. “Zach, are you gay?”

“No, I’m not gay,” I lied. “I just don’t shun people because they are.”

“The Devil works in evil ways. He can send people into your life who will try to convince you that their lifestyle is alright, it’s just fine. And then they make it look good, and pure. Then they convince you to try it. And then, they brain wash you into believing you’re one of them.”

“That’s not going to happen,” I said firmly. “I don’t think this is helping at all. I don’t think you’re looking at this from both sides of the picture. You haven’t asked me anything about why I’m upset with them. Ask me how my father treats me after a football game.” I paused, and he said nothing. “I’ve turned in some amazing performances, and set school records, and all he does is bitch at me for some little screw up he thinks I made.”

“I hear you saying you’re upset because your father isn’t your cheerleader,” he said, really pissing me off.

“No, I’m upset because if he won’t support me, the least he can do is just leave me alone. But no, he can’t even do that. He has to create drama and issues. I’m here, going to school, getting good grades, doing what I’m supposed to do. All I want him to do is leave me alone, and let me do my thing.”

“They’re worried that ‘your thing’ is bad for you.”

“They’re wrong,” I said simply. “I’m doing fine.”

“Zach, be mindful of what God said, and how kids who don’t listen should be treated. In Deuteronomy, he says that ‘If a man has a stubborn and rebellious son who will not obey the voice of his father or the voice of his mother, and, though they discipline him, will not listen to them, then his father and his mother shall take hold of him and bring him out to the elders of his city at the gate of the place where he lives, and they shall say to the elders of his city, ‘This our son is stubborn and rebellious; he will not obey our voice; he is a glutton and a drunkard.’ Then all the men of the city shall stone him to death with stones. So you shall purge the evil from your midst, and all Israel shall hear, and fear.’”

I wanted to tell him that maybe the Greek scholars who wrote the Bible got it wrong, and the elders were supposed to take the rebellious kind out and get him stoned, not stone him, but he wouldn’t appreciate my sense of humor. “Dude, I’m not in Israel.”

“No, you’re in California, which is more like Sodom and Gomorrah,” he snapped, losing his cool for a bit.

“The weather is nice here,” I joked, but it fell flat.

“I am starting to see some of the issues your parents are worried about,” he said, being obnoxious.

“I’m sure you are, Mr. Peebles,” I said, then hung up the phone. What a bunch of shit.