Millennium - 13. Chapter 13

November 16, 1999

 

“Have a good trip,” I told Robbie, as I gave him a hug and one last kiss.

“I probably won’t have to beat off the whole time I’m gone. You wore me out,” he said playfully. We’d fucked all night long. Thank God for the pain pills; they kept my headache in check.

“I bet you will, and I know what you’ll think about,” I said in my slutty voice. I made my hand into the shape I used when I fisted him and ran it up his pant leg to his tenting dick.

He grinned and blushed. “Knock it off.” He kissed me again. “I love you Brad. I always will.”

“How could you not?” I asked playfully. One more kiss and then he was out the door and off on his personal exploration odyssey. I took a cup of tea and went next door, into the house that used to be Stefan’s. He’d given Robbie and me the other house as a wedding present, and we’d built a connection between the two. When I’d gotten into a big fight with Brian, JP’s half-brother, over whether he could live in Stefan’s side of the house or not, Stef had solved the problem by giving it to me.

Other than having my bedroom in ‘our’ house, I spent most of my time over here. I liked it better: the layout and everything about it just felt more comfortable. I would probably have moved my bedroom over here too, but I wanted to leave the master suite here just as it was, for Stef or JP when they came to visit. Cody and Max lived on this side too; maybe that was why I liked it better. They were both so hunky. I put my tea down and stood up, walking over to the wall of windows, two stories high, that overlooked the ocean that I loved so much.

Two arms wrapped around me, making me jump a bit, and I felt a mouth on my neck. “I need your help,” Cody said.

I almost purred, sinking back into his strong arms. He had such an inner strength; it almost had healing properties. “What can I do for you?”

“Max has already gone to campus, and I’m so horny,” he said in his deep sexy voice. “Help me out?”

“Fuck yeah,” I said. He led me up to his room and stripped off his shorts and t-shirt. He really was magnificent. I was naked in no time. He went to lube my dick but I stopped him. “Make love to me.”

“You got it,” he said with a grin. And then he took me on an hour long extravaganza, showing me what a good top really was. I found myself making subconscious little notes as we went.

“It must have been good. You’re smiling,” he teased.

“Yeah, but you’re going to be really pissed off. I made all these mental notes while you fucked me. You keep this up, and I’ll be as good a top as you are.” He laughed.

“Cody’s School on Topping,” he joked.

“You could make a fortune,” I said. “Especially if you gave personal demonstrations.”

“You want to tell me why you have stitches in that pretty little head of yours?” he asked.

“I beat up Robbie’s car,” I said. He laughed.

“I saw them tow it away. You kicked its ass.”

“He’s been driving me crazy,” I said. “And I was drunk. He was supposed to take me out to dinner, but he was going to blow me off and stay with Carson.”

“That might piss me off,” he said.

“I don’t think Carson’s the nice guy you think he is,” I said.

“What do you mean?” he asked. I looked down but he pulled my chin up, making me look in his eyes so he could remind me I could trust him.

“This has to stay between us, and I mean it. I threatened to bite off one of Robbie’s testicles if he blabbed. Penalty’s the same for you,” I said.

“Then I’ll probably keep my word,” he said, which from him was like a solemn oath.

“We figured out who is probably behind this Amphion thing,” I said. “It’s some guy I was with for a while in high school when Robbie and I weren’t exclusive. His name is Dan Church.”

“That name sounds familiar,” he said. “Don’t know why though. How’s this involve Carson?”

“If Dan’s after me, it’s personal. That means he’s trying to destroy me, not just mess with the company. I have to assume if he did that, he’d do it in a pretty comprehensive way. He’d ruin my relationship with Robbie, he’d try to destroy our business, and he’d hit me hard where it hurts most: my pride. If that’s his plan, he’s been pretty successful so far.”

“You think Carson is in on it?”

“I didn’t before, but now I’m not so sure. He seemed like a nice enough guy when I met him, and you thought so too. We’re usually pretty good judges of character.”

“I’ve been wrong before,” he said glumly. “Brian.”

“I didn’t say we were perfect, I said we were good,” I told him, smiling. “Robbie said that Carson’s playing these games with him. Lots of drama. Tries to manipulate him. When he called me from Cancun, Carson kept saying shit in the background, trying to piss me off, and Robbie too.”

“Carson did that? Really?” Cody asked. “Dude, that does not sound like him at all.”

“Well, either it is, or Robbie is lying, and I’m almost 100% positive he’s not. He’s too easy for me to read.”

“I may have to spend a little time with Carson now that Robbie’s gone and see what I can find out,” Cody said.

“Have fun, just don’t tell him anything. Robbie talked about those last two flops he backed. Seems he got some good advice to avoid them, but one guy pushed them hard. Carson.”

Cody sat up and stared at me. “You think he’s trying to take Robbie down?”

“You want my logical answer, or my gut instinct?” I asked.

“Both.”

“Logically, it’s possible but improbable. Instinctively, I’m almost sure of it.”

He looked at me, and then pulled me into a hug. “You know what sucks for them Brad? They’re playing hardball with one tough motherfucker.”

I smiled at him and giggled like a girl. “You’re turning me into your bitch,” I joked.

“Turning? You’re already there. Watch this,” he said. He knelt over me and started stroking his dick. I laughed and turned over, letting him fuck me again. “See?”

“Yeah, but it’s a good thing, being your bitch.” I kissed him. “When Robbie finally grovels to get me back, I may have to work you into the deal.”

He laughed. “I’ll be there for you, no matter what. Well, except for right now. I have to go meet with a client.”

“You sure I didn’t wear you out?”

“Not for this one. This guy is a size queen. Not even I’m big enough for him. If I can pull something in on Carson, you may have to pay me back by fucking him.”

“As long as it’s not Andy Rooney,” I said, cracking him up.

“No worries, it wouldn’t be tough duty.”

“Then I’ll do it for you anyway,” I said. I gave him one last kiss, wondering who this mysterious actor was that I had promised to fuck. I got my work out, and a blanket and a pillow, and set myself up in the Great Room. The waves were so tempting, but I wasn’t allowed in the water for a week. I wasn’t allowed to fly until later in the week. I was stuck here, so I figured I’d try to make the best of it.

I was vaguely aware that the doorbell rang next door. It was probably a UPS delivery or someone for the kids, so I ignored it. Rosa came in and stood in front of me.

“There is a man to see you,” she said.

“Who?” I asked.

“A man of God,” she said, crossing herself.

“A man of God? Rosa, if you let a goddamn Mormon in here I’m going to melt down your rosary,” I snapped, but managed to smile at the end to take out some of the sting.

“No, I’m not a Mormon, but I do ride a bike once in a while,” a voice said from behind me. I turned my head fast and it sent pain shooting through my body.

“Fuck,” I yelled, and grabbed for a pain pill. I downed one, and when I looked up I saw a really cute guy standing in front of me. I stood up to shake his hand. “I’m sorry about my language. I hit my head pretty hard a few days ago and it hurts.”

“It looks like your bandage is a little bloody,” he said. “Have you been exerting yourself?” I thought about Cody and I blushed until I knew I was crimson red. The guy in front of me smiled playfully.

“A little,” I said.

“I’m Father Tim Callaghan, of the United Church of the Covenant,” he said.

“Brad Schluter,” I said warily. My dealing with ministers in the past had been anything but positive.

“Do you have a spare bandage?” he asked. I looked to Rosa, but before I could ask her, he did it for me, in fluent Spanish.

“I will get one,” she said.

“You should lie down,” he said. He positioned the pillow and gently pushed me down so I was lying on the couch, then he knelt next to me. He was really a cute guy. He had a boyish looking face, almost dorky, with dark red hair. He wore a short-sleeved black shirt with a clerical collar, and jeans with tennis shoes. He put his hand on my head, tilting my head sideways, and gently pulled the bandage off.

I’d been annoyed that he was here because I didn’t like religious people, but there was something about him that was so gentle, so kind, it was almost overwhelming. It was like an aura around him. Just having him this close to me made me feel calm and centered. Rosa came back with a bandage and the Neosporin. He dabbed the wound dry, put on some Neosporin, and then put the bandage on for me. “That should hold for a while.”

“Thank you, uh, what do I call you?” I asked.

He laughed, a quiet, melodic laugh that was almost hypnotic. “Call me Tim.”

“I’ll call you Tim if you call me Brad,” I said, flirting. He blushed. “So what brings you here? I should warn you that my soul is beyond saving.”

“No soul is beyond saving,” he said seriously, “but I actually am coming to you, hat in hand. There was an article in the paper that said you gave God credit for your wealth, and I know you’re gay, so I thought maybe you’d be willing to help us out.”

I just stared at him. “I’m sorry Tim. I’m a little confused. Usually religion and gay don’t go together.”

He laughed again, and then got a sadder look on his face. “There is a lot of hate and intolerance preached in the name of God. It depresses me. It saddens me. Our church is an inclusive church. We have to be. We’re in Hollywood.” It was my turn to laugh now. Hollywood, with its adult bookstores, piercing salons, and tattoo parlors; you’d need to be open-minded to work there.

“You’re one of those gay churches?” I asked. They must be one of the churches who were swimming upstream, trying to keep their message relevant to the gay demographic, a tough battle when the mainstream and fringe elements were condemning them.

“We’re not a gay church, but we are dedicated to making things better for members of the gay community,” he said. “We have many heterosexual members.”

“What about your ministers. Are they gay?”

“Some of them are, but not all of them,” he said nervously.

“Are you?” I asked. He looked really uncomfortable with that.

“I am. It is the way God made me.” I realized that I was still lying down and he was still kneeling next to me. I sat up and then motioned for him to sit next to me.

“Good. Here, sit next to me so I can hit on you,” I said playfully, flirting with him. He blushed again. This guy was really really cute. Just adorable.

“I’m pretty good at controlling my urges,” he said, almost flirting back.

“That’s probably why I don’t go to church,” I joked back.

He laughed. “I’m not Catholic. The bible preaches monogamy in marriage and abstinence outside of marriage, which makes it a bit difficult for those of us who are gay. Since gay men aren’t allowed to marry, that makes monogamous marriage tough. I’ve sought guidance from God through prayer, as have my colleagues. In the end, we try to follow our conscience, and that usually means we try not to be promiscuous.”

“That’s really bad news for both of us,” I said, winking at him. “I think you’ve spent most of your time here blushing. You won’t want to come visit me again.”

“I’m enjoying myself much more than I ever thought I would,” he said. “I will come visit you whenever you ask.”

“Well, I’ll be candid. I was misquoted in the paper.” He suddenly looked so sad, and so distraught, I put my hand on his arm to reassure him. “That doesn’t mean I’m not a charitable person.” He nodded. “The reporter quoted Reverend Carmichael, of the Calgary Baptist Church. He said that our business was floundering because it was run primarily by homosexuals, by my uncle and me. I gave her a smart ass response, telling her that if God hated gay men so much, why did he give us all that money to begin with?”

“And they skewed it to make it sound like you were a man of faith,” he said sadly. “Reverend Carmichael could almost be Satan himself, although I hate to speak ill of people.”

“I’ve had some bad experiences with people like him,” I told him. For some reason I opened up to him. I told him about Robbie and our dealings with his mother. He listened sympathetically, and I found myself more and more drawn to him, not just as a sexy man, which he was, but as a person.

“I’m sorry you experienced such hate and intolerance. In my mind, when I hear your story, I see the hand of God not in Robbie’s mother and her pastor, but in how you were able to overcome the evil they espoused.”

“I guess if I believed there was a God, I would see things that way too,” I told him. I looked at my watch.

“I really should be going,” he said, misinterpreting my gesture. “I have taken up too much of your time already.”

“No, please, I was just checking the time. It’s almost lunchtime. Would you join me?”

He smiled. “It would be my pleasure. Are we going out?”

“We can,” I said. “Give me a few minutes to get ready.”

“Maybe afterward I can show you my church and the work we are trying to accomplish at the mission?”

“That sounds great,” I said. This day had started out strangely, and looked to continue in that vein, but I liked this guy, and he seemed like a good man. As it turned out, we ended up eating at home. Rosa seemed to like Tim at first sight, and she insisted on making us lunch.

“She’s Catholic, so let’s hope she didn’t poison your food,” I teased him in Spanish so she could understand clearly.

“You are like the devil, and I have kept you healthy,” she said, making all of us laugh.

I walked out front and found his crappy church van in our driveway. “Would you like me to drive?” I asked.

“It’s not the best neighborhood,” he said.

Up until his crisis, Robbie always drove trucks. His almost-new blue Toyota Tundra sat in the driveway. “We’ll take the truck,” I said. I went in and grabbed the keys, and met him back out front.

“Which house is yours?” he asked.

“Both. The one we met in originally belonged to my uncle, but he gave it to me. We have extended family members who live there, and I spend much of my time there. I sleep in the other one, along with my children, my partner, and, well, my friend Jeanine.” It was hard to know how to classify her.

I drove the truck to Hollywood. It was really fun to drive, and I enjoyed being higher up. It was fun to look down into other people’s cars, especially when there was a hot, shirtless guy driving. Tim guided me through a really seedy part of East Hollywood and up to a church that looked pretty run down, almost dilapidated, but it was well-maintained.

“It was formerly a Baptist church,” he said. “They opted to move to the suburbs. We lease the buildings from them, with an option to buy, but we are lucky to make our lease payments. We’re currently two months behind.” The poor man was seriously stressed out by this.

“That’s why you came to see me?” I asked gently.

“Yes. We often have to make a choice between paying the Baptists and tending to our members, and our wards. They are not always understanding, but I refuse to let kids starve or go homeless.” Kids? I decided to keep my mouth shut and see what his church was all about.

He led me though the front of the church and into the sanctuary. It had some graffiti on the walls, but underneath that, it looked like a typical church. There were things that needed repair, but it was remarkably clean and well-kept. I’d noticed that about the lawn and shrubs out front too. “You have a problem with graffiti?”

He smiled. “We don’t, but the Baptists did,” he said. “We are on a tight budget. Paint is low on our list of priorities.” The church seemed pretty normal, and nothing to write home about. Then he led me to a large, cavernous building in the back.

“What is this?” I asked.

“This is our mission.”

“Your mission? Is that like one of those operations where you send a bunch of missionaries to Africa and bribe the people to convert with food?” I asked cynically.

He rolled his eyes at me. “No, we do our work here. There are many runaway teens in Hollywood. They leave home for many reasons, and come here from all over the country. It’s the big dream, to come out here and be discovered and become a movie star. It attracts the unfortunate like a moth to a light. There are organizations that try to help them. The kids who end up falling through the cracks are often the homosexual children. It is tough to find homes for them, either through adoption or foster care, where they won’t be abused, and the streets provide them with their only real source of money: hustling.”

He led me into the building, which was like one huge dormitory. I expected to get dirty looks and stares, but the kids, almost all male, were nice enough. Some were shy, some tried to hit on me, but the thing that impacted me hardest was how young they were. “How old are they?”

“Chris, over there,” he said, pointing to a boy, “is our youngest. He’s twelve. You met Bill. He’s 19. He’s our oldest. We don’t throw them out, but our rules usually drive them away.”

“You force them to convert?” I asked.

He looked at me like I was a Neanderthal. “Certainly not. We provide them with food, clothing, shelter, and an opportunity to go to school. We get some support from the State, but it is not enough. In addition to that, we try to find homes for the boys, good homes. It is not often that happens.” His sadness was infectious, and depressing.

“I’m sorry Tim. I never thought there were men like you, and churches like yours, to handle these kids.” I put my arm around him. “I think it’s really wonderful.” He smiled at me, a beautiful smile, the smile of someone who worked hard and was happy to be appreciated.

“They leave us because of our rather strict rules. We have a curfew: Nine o’clock at night. If they have a legitimate job and need to work later, we can make exceptions. If they are out later than that, they are usually hustling. Some nights I will take the church van through the areas where they ply their trade and try to save some of them.”

“How many are HIV positive?” I asked.

“Probably about a quarter of them,” he said. A tear fell from his eye and I instinctively wiped it away. “It is terrible. We try everything to keep them safe. There are condoms in every bathroom, freely available. We have classes on safe sex practices. But many don’t listen, or they don’t think it will happen to them. At this age, they think they’re invincible. And once they are here, they will have sex with each other, and it can spread even worse.”

I got an inspiration. “What are they having for dinner tonight?”

“I don’t know. Let us hope it is not Salisbury steak night. That is the worst.” I laughed. We headed to the kitchen to find they’d just started preparations.

“Order pizzas instead. I will pay for them,” I said. “It will give your staff a break.”

“It will take a lot of pizzas,” Tim said, grinning. “These are growing boys.”

“Order extra then, so you have leftovers, and so we can eat with them.”

“You’re joining us?” he asked.

“If you order good pizzas,” I joked. I started to relax after that.

“Father Tim, you have a call. It’s important,” a young man, clearly a secretary, said, interrupting us.

“Go ahead,” I told him. “I’ll hang out and wait for food.” I wandered around and talked to some of the kids. One of the kids was off by himself. He seemed different, out of place.

“I’m Brad,” I said, offering him my hand. He shook it firmly, like you were supposed to do.

“I’m Drew,” he said.

“How old are you?”

“Fifteen,” he said. “You’re wondering why I’m here?” His tone wasn’t friendly.

“I am, if you want to tell me why. I’m also wondering how long you’ve been here.”

“I’ve been here for three days now. Before that I lived on the street for a week.”

“Why aren’t you at home?” I asked.

“Because my fucking parents kicked me out,” he said bitterly. A tear fell down his face, and he wiped it away like he was pissed off at it. “I thought they loved me.”

“What happened?”

“I came out to them, like a fucking idiot,” he said. “I knew they’d be disappointed, but I figured they’d love me enough to get beyond it. I was wrong. My dad called me a faggot and told me to leave. I looked at my mom, and she just turned her back on me.”

“Do you have brothers or sisters?”

“I have a sister. She snuck a bunch of my clothes out, and brought me food until they caught her and grounded her. So I packed up what I had and left.”

“Where did you come from, where did your parents live?” I asked.

He laughed. “Newport Beach. Can’t you tell? No one else here has designer clothes. I look like an idiot. No one knows what to do about me.” He sighed. “My dad owns car dealers in Orange County. He’s part of the ultra-conservative wing of the Republican Party, a big donor, and that’s why this was so embarrassing for him.”

All the other kids seemed to be fitting in, at least with each other, but Drew was an outcast. He came from an affluent background, and this world must be as Greek to him as Escorial would be for a kid raised in East LA. I instinctively felt like I had to help him, and then I felt guilty for singling out the former rich kid, but he was the one I could probably do the most for. He was probably the only one here that I had a better chance of saving than Tim had. “Would you like to come stay with me for a few days?” I asked him, amazing myself with my impulsive decision.

“You want to fuck me?” he asked. “Why not. You’re pretty cute.” I laughed, and that seemed to piss him off.

“I’m sorry. I’m not going to fuck you.” I saw the look on his face, the look that said I’d offended him. “Not that you’re not cute. You really are,” I told him, almost flirting. He smiled at me and perked up. He was really adorable. “But I have a partner, and you’re only 15. I have sons your age.”

“That doesn’t seem to bother most guys,” he grumbled.

“It should,” I said. “What’s your last name, Drew?”

“Andrews,” he said. “Like Julie. I can even sing show tunes.”

I laughed. “Then you can get your gay membership card. You have to sing show tunes, or know how to fold a fitted sheet. That’s what they tell me anyway.”

“I thought you just had to like butt sex,” he said, cracking me up. It was so neat to see him come out of his shell. So many of the kids seemed to have fallen into an institutional pattern, probably because they’d grown used to living in a place like this and not in an individual family. That hadn’t happened to Drew. Yet.

“Maybe that’s how I got mine,” I joked back with him.

“I’m sorry about that,” Father Tim said as he suddenly reappeared by my side. “I see you’ve met Drew.”

“Brad wants to take me home,” Drew said, acting slutty. I gave him a dirty look.

“Just so you don’t corrupt the others,” I insisted. “Would that be alright, if Drew spent a few days at our house?”

“As you might imagine, it will require some paperwork. There’s an extensive process, whether he stays with you as a foster parent or as an adoptive parent. You’ll end up talking to state employees, and going through some probably less-than-pleasant screening. I don’t want to discourage you, but I do want to prepare you for it.” Drew looked devastated by Tim’s words.

“I don’t mind doing that at all,” I said. “Does that mean he’ll have to wait until we get that done to come stay for a few days?”

“I can probably stretch the rules a bit to make a temporary allowance. I’ll let him go home with you tonight, and then I’ll talk to the Child Welfare department tomorrow. If they kick and scream, he’ll have to come back here.”

“Then it’s settled,” I said. Drew had been forced to leave home and found his way here. Even if the state caused problems, he could probably run away from this shelter and find his way back to us. I didn’t know the myriad of rules, but that’s what lawyers were for.

“Drew, you can get your things together. I’ll come get you in a few days, or earlier if we have problems.”

“Thanks, Father Tim,” he said. The expression of gratitude on his face was priceless.

“You should know that we’re really stretching the rules here, but he’s had a tough time fitting in. Most of these kids don’t come from wealthy backgrounds. He obviously does. It makes him a convenient target for the other kids, if for nothing more than their jokes.”

“So what’s the crisis?” I asked, changing the subject. I didn’t want him to think about this thing with Drew anymore and change his mind, and I’d noticed he was much more somber than he’d been when he’d first brought me here.

“We were notified that we have until the end of the week to get our lease payments up to date or they’ll begin eviction proceedings,” he said.

“What would happen to these boys?” I asked, horrified.

“They will go back on the street,” he said. Another tear fell. This man was putting his all into his church and his mission. He just needed some help.

“Do you have a copy of this lease you signed?” I asked. He nodded. “May I see it?” He led me back to his office and pulled out a file, then made a copy of the lease for me to read.

“How much do you need to pay your lease up currently?” I asked.

“Our payment is $15,000 per month. We’re two months behind, and the next month’s rent is due. It was due yesterday,” he said.

I pulled out my checkbook and was about to write him a check for $45,000 but I paused. I’d written a check for that much to buy a Porsche for Kevin. That seemed so trite, so wasteful, when I saw kids like these, and a man like Tim Callaghan working to help them. I wrote a check out for $100,000 and handed it to him. “This should bring you up to date, and give you some money for a couple of gallons of paint.”

There are times in my life when I’ve done nice things for people; things that made me feel good. Nothing made me feel as good as doing that, as really making a difference. Nothing was as rewarding as seeing the look on Tim’s face, of gratitude and relief, relief that he could go on and focus on his work without worrying that eviction was just around the corner. I’d given him a cushion.