Bloodlines - 43. Chapter 43

February 12, 1999

My normal day off, Friday, was being totally fucked up by my God damned Calculus professor. He was one of those lazy bastards who would only write one test, so instead of giving it to us in class, he combined all of his sections into the auditorium for one big session. So last night Wade and I had spent most of the night studying like fiends, preparing for this nightmare, and now it was here.

“Good luck,” he said. I nodded and sat next to him but with an empty seat in between. It was funny how some people still didn't get that after all this time. A proctor came along and explained it to them soon enough. Idiots.

I ground my way through the test. It was really tough, the old bastard had really thrown us some loops, but my studying paid off. I glanced sideways at Wade, not to look at his paper, but to see how he was doing. He looked determined, the kind of look he got when he tackled something tough. Like this fucking test. It took me almost the full two hours to get through it, and I found Wade waiting outside for me.

“That was a torture session,” he said. “I need food.”

“What the fuck did you put for that third problem?” I asked, my mind still on the test.

“Food,” he said insistently, cracking me up.

“We're done for the weekend,” I told him. “Sunday is Valentine's Day.”

“So,” he said, smiling. “You worried you won't get laid?”

“Not anymore,” I teased. He was a sexual dynamo. It was awesome. “Let's go to Santa Cruz.” It had become our special place, our hideaway from the world.

“You think it would be OK with JP?” he asked.

“He likes people to use it. Besides, even if he and Stef are there, it will be fun.” It would be, but I'd rather be alone with just him.

“I guess we'll have to go up to Escorial to get the keys,” he said, grinning. “Real food.”

I laughed and we headed for the GMC. It was funny how I always drove and we always took my car. Wade had a really nice car, a BMW, but he seemed to like mine better. “How come we always end up taking my GMC?” I asked.

“I hate my car,” he said.

“Why?”

“It reminds me of my father,” he told me.

“Is it in your name?”

“Yeah,” he said. “Why?”

“Get a new one,” I told him. “Let's go car shopping.”

He thought about that. “Not today. Today I just want to get a good meal and then go to the beach with you.” God, I loved this guy. We got up to Escorial and wandered into the kitchen. Anna made us a bunch of food and we pigged out. I kind of expected to run into Stef or JP. If they saw the GMC they'd come looking for us here in the kitchen, but they didn't appear.

“Let's go find JP and snag the keys,” I said. The most logical place for him to be was his study. We walked up and the door was closed. I thought about waiting, but if he was just working, he wouldn't mind a quick interruption. I knocked on the door and he said “Enter!” loudly. He sounded irritated. When I walked in I could see why. Brian was there.

I felt the anger surging, the sheer rage, as I saw him standing there. Wade felt it too, and he put his hand on my shoulder to steady me. “I'm sorry to interrupt, JP,” I said, pretending that Brian wasn't in the room.

“You're not interrupting at all,” JP said. “Brian was just leaving.” Brian glared at him, then at me, and stormed out of the study. It was all I could do not to lay him out as he walked past me. “Excuse me,” JP said. He followed Brian out, and told Rafael to watch him to make sure he left the property, then came back to see us.

“What did he want?” I asked, still really pissed off.

“He wanted money,” JP said. “He was quite motivated. He used all the emotional tools in his arsenal. He tried guilt, remorse, sorrow, and anger, all of them. And he left without a dime.” That actually made me smile.

“You were pretty tough,” Wade said.

It was JP's turn to smile. “It wasn't too difficult. He isn't really that hard to read. If he ever comes to me and he's sincere, I'll know it.” He walked over to his desk. “So what can I do for the two of you?”

“I was wondering if we could use the house in Santa Cruz this weekend?” I asked.

“As a matter of fact,” JP said. “I have a present for you.” He reached into one of his lower drawers and pulled out a familiar-looking fanny pack. “This is for you.”

“What is it?” I asked.

“Your own keys and gate opener to the house in Santa Cruz,” he said. “You can use it whenever you want.”

That was the shit! We had our own little hideaway, and we didn't even need to stop in and bug him for keys to go use it. “Thanks JP!” I said, and gave him a hug, a long one. So did Wade, which surprised me. JP wasn't big on displays of affection, unless he really liked the person. He'd probably been reserved like I used to be, really uncomfortable with it. But all these guys, especially Robbie, had cured me of that and they'd probably done the same thing to JP. The funniest thing of all, though, was to see Wade, who was just as bad as I used to be, start to melt and learn to express himself that way.

We didn't hang around after that, we just jumped in the GMC and tore off toward Santa Cruz. And once more when I was leaving, I saw Brian walking down the road, and once more, there was a puddle right next to him. I drove through the water, only this time it was daylight and I could see it splash all over him. Wade laughed his ass off. We passed through the gates and I saw Brian's SUV parked there. Evidently he hadn't been able to get JP to open the gate for him, and he'd had to sneak up there on foot. I put thoughts of Brian aside and just thought about the weekend ahead.

We knew the routine now, so we stopped at the grocery store and got all kinds of shit to eat. We spent the afternoon walking on the beach and making love, then around dinner time we migrated to the kitchen to make something edible. Neither one of us could cook worth a shit, but we were good at heating stuff up and we could whip up a sandwich if we had to. There was a television in the kitchen and I flipped it on. “You're watching the news?” Wade asked. “How romantic.”

“Whatever. I want to know what the weather is gonna be like so I'll know whether to fuck you inside or outside,” I teased.

“How about inside out,” he said, acting like the slut he was when he was with me. Then he froze and I looked at the television to see his father.

“Senator Danfield,” the reporter said, “the Senate voted today and found President Clinton innocent of perjury and obstruction of justice. You voted to convict him, but you and your GOP colleagues weren't able to impeach him.”

“Well, I just think that someone who engages in immoral acts like that isn't fit to lead this great nation,” Wade's father said. “We need to return decency to the Oval Office.” Wade glared at the television, the look of sheer hatred gleaming in his eyes.

“Fucking hypocrite,” he spat. He said nothing else; he just focused on making sandwiches. We were both quiet for at least ten minutes when Wade suddenly burst out: “Son of a bitch!”

“What?” I asked.

“You told him to vote no, remember? You said it was a sign of good faith. His vote today was as much a way for him to tell us to fuck off as it was for him to be a good GOP soldier,” Wade said.

“Oh come on. You really think he gives a shit about me? It doesn't surprise me that he reneged. He's scum. I expected it,” I said. I didn't give a shit about the Senator. I just wanted him out of my life.

“Dude, you don't get it. He's challenging us. It's like he walked up to you at a party, pushed you and called you a pussy. You don't do anything, and he'll push again, then again, until you're irrelevant.” Wade was dead serious. “He's calling your bluff. You said you'd release the tape if he voted this way. He's seeing if you will, and he's doing it on something that you probably don't feel strongly about enough to really get pissed.”

“So you're saying I should release the tape?” I asked. “He's right. I wouldn't put you through that just for this.”

Wade looked at me, and then began to pace back and forth. “Fuck. You're right. It's like launching nuclear weapons over a minor border conflict.” He was so cute when he got all geopolitical.

“Just because I didn't do it this time doesn't mean I won't next time. He can't be sure,” I said.

“He's testing your boundaries, like a teenager rebels.” He seemed to forget that we were both still teenagers. “We have to do something.”

“Maybe I should call him and tell him I'm pissed off,” I offered lamely.

“Oh yeah. That will scare him. It's like that movie with Bette Midler, “Ruthless People,” where they keep dropping the ransom when Danny DeVito won't pay up.” He shook his head. “That will just make you look harmless.”

We took our sandwiches into the family room and watched the clouds thicken over the ocean. I turned on the gas fireplace and it gave the whole room a really romantic ambiance. It was really nice, only Wade wasn't feeling romantic. His whole being was now obsessed with fighting his father. We just sat there eating, and then I moved back into the couch and pulled him to me, his back to my chest. I wanted him to sink into me like he usually did, to just be with me, but he wasn't. He couldn't. It was starting to piss me off.

“Dude, don't let him ruin our whole weekend,” I whined.

“It's not going to ruin our whole weekend,” he snapped. “Can't I have an hour or two to just be pissed off at him and to plot an evil revenge?”

That actually made me laugh. “An hour or two,” I said, and I kissed his neck, then behind his ear. He sighed and moved back into me. I'd begun to think I'd broken him out of it when he tensed up and turned around, a huge smile on his face.

“I've got it!” he announced.

“You've got what?” I asked.

“I know how to call his bluff. I know how to piss him off,” he said. “I have the absolute, most perfect plan.”

“Alright,” I said indulgently. “Let's hear it.”

“I'm coming out.”

I stared at him. “You're what?”

“I'm coming out. I'll call a reporter or someone and I'll tell them I'm gay. And when they ask me what my father thinks, I'll tell them that while he'd rather I wasn't gay, he understands it's who I am and he told me that he loved me anyway.” He was really excited about this.

“Doesn't that conflict with all the shit he's told people? Isn't he pretty much like my parents, all fire and brimstone, we're going to hell and shit?”

Wade laughed. “It looks like I'm going to give him a change of heart on that issue.”

“Can't he just say that he still hates fags?” I asked.

“Then it makes him look like he's lying. If I tell the press that he was all loving and supportive, and then he turns around and goes back to his old position, it makes him look like a hypocrite. He'll be stuck.” Wade was absolutely gleeful.

“Dude, think about this,” I said.

He got pissed off. “You've wanted me to do this all along. Now when I say I'm going to, you're getting cold feet. Don't you want to be out with me in public?”

And that really pissed me off, but I didn't want to escalate the situation. It took a ton of control not to react. “Wade, you know better than that,” I said sternly. He looked at me and I saw him retreating before me, knowing that he'd pushed too far. “If you want to do this, I think it's awesome. I'd love it, I'd love to be with you and have everyone know. I just don't want you to do it for the wrong reasons. You tell me you're doing this for you, because you want to, and I'm right there with you. If you're just doing it to get back at your father, it kind of makes it less special to me.”

I saw him kind of get pissed, and then he calmed down. “I get it, I get what you're saying, and it's not like that. Ever since you jumped in there with your camcorder and saved me, I've wanted to do this. I guess I didn't want to be the one to stir the pot up, you know?” I shook my head. I didn't get it at all. “I didn't want to do the same thing to him he just did to us. I figured I'd just leave it alone for a while. But when he did that, when he voted to impeach, he took off the gloves.”

“What happens next time when he calls our bluff?” I asked.

“I'll call another press conference and tell the world I'm gay because he was fucking me up the ass since I was twelve,” Wade said. He was dead serious, and it really wasn't funny, but his choice of words cracked me up anyway. He decided to humor me and laugh along. I grabbed a joint and we headed out onto the patio, the cold wind blowing all around us. We found some shelter and smoked it, enjoying the high, until we were damn near frozen and we went back into the house.

“So how are you going to do this?” I asked.

“I'll have to think about that,” he said.

February 13, 1999

I giggled as Wade licked my cum off of me. He'd fucked me until I'd blown my morning load, and now he was cleaning up. “You taste so good,” he said. He turned me on so much I was almost ready to go again.

“And you fire me up so much I can't stop fucking you,” I joked. “Only now my balls hurt, they're so empty.”

“Let's make breakfast and give them a chance to fill up again,” he teased. We'd bought that instant pancake mix so we made some pancakes. They were OK, better than the food on campus, but not even close to Anna's.

“This would be so much better if one of us knew how to fry bacon,” he said.

“Can't you microwave that?” I asked. He laughed.

“So I have my plan. Want to hear it?”

“Sure,” I said. Like I had a choice.

“It's going to require one, maybe even two sacrifices on your part,” he said.

“What?” I was nervous now.

“I want to do an interview with the Stanford Daily. I want to give them the scoop. I figure they'll give me lots of exposure, and it will get picked up by the papers in DC,” he said.

“So how does that require me to sacrifice anything?”

“You're being rather selfish, aren't you,” he teased, sounding so patrician.

“It's all about me,” I joked back.

“To do this, I need to get back today and get it set up,” he said. That was a pretty big sacrifice, leaving our own private paradise before we had to. “I promise though, next free weekend, we can come back and stay and I won't fuck it up.”

This was a really big deal, and fucking up my weekend was a pretty lame reason for me to be upset. “This is important. It's the best Valentine's Day present you could give me.” He gave me his dazzling smile to say thank you, and to tell me he loved me.

“Thanks Matt. I knew I could count on you.”

“You said two things. What's the other one?” I asked nervously.

“It's not something you have to do, but I was wondering if you'd be willing to go with me,” he said.

“When you're interviewed?” I asked. “You want me to hold your hand?”

“Yeah, actually that's exactly what I want you to do. And let them take a picture of us doing it,” he said. Then I got it. He wanted me to go into the interview with him as his boyfriend. It would be Valentine's Day, and we'd be the romantic gay couple that was coming out together. He looked at me, worried. “You don't have to do this. I don't want to pressure you.”

“Baby, I want the world to know we're together,” I told him. “I'm with you. Besides, maybe my parents will see it too.”

“Yeah, there might be a few people in Cleveland who haven't heard about your performance at the country club,” he joked. Then he got down to business. I packed our stuff up, including the food we still had left, while he got on the phone and called the paper. It took him an hour before a reporter called him back, and by then we were on the road back to Palo Alto. I listened to the conversation, listened to him laying out the terms of what he wanted, and what he planned to do. I heard him bully them in his nice, charming way, bluffing them by suggesting that maybe this was the kind of story that would be better in a local paper, and that maybe he should call the San Jose Mercury News instead. It was actually pretty impressive. Wade could be really hard core while being incredibly polite and smooth as silk. He talked for a good twenty minutes, and by then we'd made it to I-280 and were heading toward Paly.

“You all set?” I asked.

“Yep. We meet with them tomorrow at 2:00pm at the newspaper. It will hit the paper Monday morning.”

“You were really good on the phone,” I said. He grinned at the praise. “You think we can swing by and tell JP and Stef?”

“You want their OK?” he asked in kind of a snotty way. I guess he thought I was insinuating that he didn't have things under control.

“Dude, they care about us. Remember how they helped us in DC? Is it horrible to run things by them, just in case they have any ideas?” I asked.

“No, you're right. It's the smart thing. I guess I'm making this a personal crusade.” I headed to Escorial, wondering if we'd even find JP at home. We got lucky and found him sitting in the kitchen with Stef, eating lunch.

“You're back early,” he said curiously. “I figured you'd be there at least through tomorrow.”

“We had a change of plans,” I said. “We wanted to talk to you about it.”

“We are all ears,” Stef said, and winked at Wade.

“I've decided to come out, and I've set up a meeting with a reporter from the Stanford Daily at 2:00pm tomorrow,” Wade told them.

“Congratulations are in order,” Stef said. He got up and went to the refrigerator to grab a bottle of champagne. He popped the cork and started to pour, while JP studied Wade more deliberately.

“What made you decide to do this right now?” JP asked.

“Matt told my father to vote ‘no’ on Clinton's impeachment. He voted ‘yes’. It's a challenge, one we have to answer,” Wade said.

“And you figured that releasing the tape was a bit extreme, and this would be a more measured response?” JP asked him. Damn. He and Wade spoke the same language. Wade nodded. JP seemed to mull it over, and then smiled. “I think you're right.” It was funny to see Wade get all happy at having JP agree with him. He respected him almost as much as I did.

We drank a glass of champagne to celebrate, and had some lunch too. Food here was so much better than anywhere we normally went. “How do you plan to handle your father?” JP asked.

“I figured that I'd give the interview, and then wait until it hit the presses tomorrow. That way he'd have to scramble a little bit,” Wade said, smiling.

“You want to wait until it's too late for him to do anything,” JP mused. “On the other hand, if he's surprised, your story may seem suspect.”

“What do you suggest?” Wade asked.

“I think you should fax him a copy of the article as soon as it hits. That will give him some time between when it gets around campus and works its way back to him,” JP said.

“That's perfect. That way he'll know what I said he said, and he can decide whether to go along with it or not. Thanks, JP!” Wade said. We excused ourselves and headed to my room to fuck. “You were right. That was a great suggestion.”

“They're on our side,” I told him. “Remember that.”

“I'm so used to living in a world where there were always knives aimed at my back, it's kind of hard to trust people,” he said.

“But you trust me,” I said confidently.

“Yeah, I do. I trust you completely,” he said. Coming from him, that was almost more powerful than saying ‘I love you’.

February 14, 1999

Our whole morning had been occupied with simple shit. Wade spent a lot of it planning his interview, rehearsing his points so deliberately it was like he was taking a final. Then there was the huge debate about what to wear. At first Wade thought we should wear suits. He labored over that until he decided that would be too formal. Then he thought that we should wear jeans and polo shirts, but then he decided that would be too casual. In the end, it was the old standby. Khakis, a blue blazer, and no tie.

Around 11:00am I suddenly realized that we hadn't said anything to the team. Of the group, only Cole knew that we were a couple. None of the rest of them had a clue that Wade was gay, much less that we were together. “Dude, we have to tell the team.”

He looked at me, irritated at being interrupted, until he thought about what I was saying. Only three hours left, and we'd forgotten to include the guys who were the most important people to us at Stanford. “Fuck.”

“You want me to handle that while you're working on your points?” I asked.

“What are you going to do?” he asked.

My first reaction was to be a mildly pissed at having him question me, like I couldn't handle it, but then I calmed my touchy ass down. This was his life, his deal, and he had a perfect right to micromanage it if he wanted to. “I figured I'd call Turner and tell him, then go down and drag Cramer and Konrad down here so we could tell them in person.”

“I guess it's not a really big deal. You already blazed the trail. But why do I feel so nervous?” he asked.

“Because you have to admit that you're having sex with me, and they'll think you have really bad taste,” I teased. He smiled at me and gave me a nice kiss.

“No, they'll be jealous and come out themselves so they can fight me for you.”

“Right. I'll call Turner,” I said. He picked up on the third ring. “Hey. I need to talk to you.”

“Carrswold, it's Valentine's Day. You're not getting in my pants today,” he joked.

“I don't need to get in your pants. I met a guy and I'm in love,” I teased. Wade gave me a dirty look.

“Yeah, well that's nothing new. The question is, does he love you back?” Turner replied.

“He does. We're a couple, and you know him.”

He got quiet. “You and Konrad?” Konrad? Why would he think we were a couple?

“No, dumb ass. Danfield. Wade and I are a couple,” I said.

“Danfield is gay?” he asked. “Danfield, the same one that's on our team?”

I laughed. “Yeah, that one. He's pretty hot too, dontcha think?”

“Yeah, he's a fucking wet dream,” Turner said sarcastically.

“Turner says you’re a wet dream,” I told Wade.

“Shut the fuck up Carrswold!” Turner said. “So why'd you call me to tell me this? You just trying to stress me out?”

“I thought you'd be happy for me,” I said, pretending to be all offended. “I found the man of my dreams.” He didn't say anything, he was done joking around. “Wade is coming out today. He's doing an interview with the Daily. We wanted you to know first.”

“Fuck. It's going to be in the fucking paper?” he asked. “Why would it be in the paper?”

“Because Wade's father is a US Senator,” I said. I guess the word hadn't gotten around as fast as Wade thought it had.

“Dude, what the fuck are you talking about? His father is a fucking senator?”

“Yeah,” I said. “Ironically enough, his name is Senator Danfield. And he's one of those right-wing douche bags that hate fags.”

“I guess that would make this news,” he said thoughtfully. “When's the interview?”

“It's at the Daily, at 2:00pm today,” I told him.

“Alright. Well I'll tell the rest of the guys, at least the ones I can get in touch with. Just don't tell them we're all gay,” he said, kind of teasing, kind of not.

“I'll let Wade know that he's only allowed to out himself, not the rest of you closet cases,” I joked.

“Fuck you,” he said. “I gotta run. Just once, Carrswold, call me with something that isn't a big deal, OK?”

“You got it boss,” I told him.

“How did he take it?” Wade asked.

“I don't think he really gives a shit, he just doesn't want everyone to think the whole team is gay. You know, 'fags on ice' or something like that,” I said, cracking him up.

Then he turned back to his notes. “I'll try to add something about that. You want to go get Konrad and Cramer?”

“On my way,” I told him. I found them in their rooms and asked them to come down to see us. Cramer looked nervous, Konrad looked annoyed. I'm sure Valentine's Day was a big deal for a Casanova like him.

“What's up?” Konrad asked.

“I'm gay. I'm doing an interview with the paper today. I wanted you to know first,” Wade said.

“You're gay?” Cramer asked.

“Yep,” Wade said. “And we're together.” He gestured at me.

Konrad looked at us. He couldn't care less. “Congrats. Thanks for letting me know. I gotta run.”

“You don't care?” Cramer asked.

“I said fucking congrats.” He turned to Wade and me. “I like you guys. I care. You all happy now?” He cracked me up.

“Yeah, it's cool,” Cramer said, dealing with it. “Guess it's better this way. Carrswold has someone to keep his libido under control.”

“It is a challenge,” Wade said, acting all put out. He was just as big of a horn dog as I was. They left and he looked at me kind of funny. “I didn't think it would be this easy.”

“Like you said, they already dealt with it when I came out. One more fag doesn't really make that much difference.”

“Don't use that word with the reporter though, OK?” he asked. Then he looked guilty for telling me what to do, for coaching me.

I walked up and wrapped my arms around him. “I won't. It's not like I don't know how to act around polite society you know.” He chuckled. “In fact, I've been known to hang out at country clubs.” That got a full-out laugh, and then he walked me through his notes, his way of telling me what I should and shouldn't say without giving me a bunch of patronizing directives. Damn he was smooth.