Living in Surreality - 18. Chapter 18

chapter 18:
: edited by viv :

The ride home the following morning was quiet, lost in their own thoughts, occasionally stealing hushed smiles at each other as they roared along the empty streets. Enjoying the comfortable silence that wove around them, like reeds in a wicker basket, and the refreshing feeling of the moist morning air flowing over the windshield of the Mustang, Valerie tried as best she could to make the perfection last forever by driving just below the speed limit, and taking the longest route home that she knew.

Despite her best efforts, their morning found its twilight in the dawn as she pulled the Mustang into her drive, leaving the beast to growl one last menacing rev, before she killed its fire with a simple flick of her wrist.

Valerie tossed her heels out of the open driver side door with a groan. "I'm so looking forward to a nice, long, hot bath," Valerie commented, taking a moment to rub her sore feet.

"Feet hurt?" Matt asked with a smirk, he had forgotten all about Jacob stepping on Valerie's feet numerous times. Funny, he thought, as he realized Jacob hadn't stepped on his feet once.

Valerie issued a tired nod while pulling herself out of the Mustang, taking a moment to slide the driver seat forward, so Jacob could climb out of the back.

"Yeah," Jacob murmured, his eyes easing open from the short nap the relaxing car drive had issued him. "Sorry about that, Sweets," Jacob said lazily as he climbed out of the back of the car, stopping to pick Valerie's shoes up and hand them to her.

Matt let a tired chuckle escape his mouth at the look of confusion on Valerie's face. "You know," Matt answered the questioning look on her face, "he never stepped on my feet once all night."

The blank stare on Valerie's face eroded with a realization that had Matt fighting to contain his laughter. "You Ass!" Valerie almost shouted, silencing the morning song-birds. "I knew you were doing that on purpose!"

"My Ass," Matt attempted to interject between fits of laughter.

"Whoa," Jacob said, holding his hands up and surrendering. "I had to do it, it's the only way he would dance with me," he continued, his voice light with laughter as he issued Valerie a wink.

"So help me Jacob Keats, if I wasn't dog tired..." Valerie issued, looking defeated which was out of character for her.

"If it's any consolation, I'm sure you bruised a few of my ribs," Jacob offered, his fingers toying with the buttons on his shirt, ready to offer evidence of his claim.

"Shuddup," Valerie waived the notion off, turning from Matt and Jacob, "I'll catch you idiots later."

Matt and Jacob watched, giggling, as Valerie trudged up her drive and into the house beyond, replying to the small wave she gave them at the door in kind.

"I'm gonna take my ass across the street," Jacob said, tugging Matt by his unbuttoned vest. "Care to join me?" he asked with a slight lick of his lips.

Matt was tempted to take Jacob up on the offer, even figured on the counter offer, as his house was just next door. He didn't answer, instead ran his fingers along the loosened tie that hung haphazardly around the unbuttoned collar of Jacob's dress shirt.

"I need to take a shower," Matt responded, a mischievous smile playing at his lips, as he ran his curled fist the length of Jacob's tie before slowly repeating the motion.

"I've got a shower," Jacob challenged, pulling the starched cotton of Matt's shirt out of Matt's pants, allowing his fingers to snake through the improvised opening, and play along the taught flesh of Matt's navel.

Matt exhaled; releasing twelve hours of pent-up expectations with the sensation Jacob's teasing touch provided. The light grazing of Jacob's fingers across his abdomen were more thrilling, than the hundreds of other touches Jacob had graced Matt with the previous night. All of those were public, tactile displays, an arm thrown over Matt's shoulder, Jacob curling his fingers around Matt's cheek, this touch however, was more intimate, soft, and urging, all delivered in a place where no one should see, but easily could if they had looked.

Matt wrapped the black tie he held in his grasp around his fist, and forcefully pulled Jacob's lips to his. Matt was rewarded for his kiss by Jacob swinging his arm over Matt's shoulder, pulling Matt towards him as the fingers playing at Matt's navel swooped down and tugged Matt in even closer by his waistband.

"I should go before someone turns a hose on us," Matt murmured breaking the kiss but not the contact he was enjoying.

"I've got a shower," Jacob repeated, breaking the words apart with kisses.

"I should check in with my mom," Matt said, pulling away from Jacob slightly, but enjoying the feel of Jacob's finger rubbing along the coarse hairs on the other side of his waistband.

Jacob pouted, his bottom lip sticking out as he pulled away from Matt and retrieved his suit jacket from the back seat of the Mustang. Dejected, he cast Matt one last pitiful look, as he slung the coat over his slumped shoulder on a hooked finger and began to cross the street, kicking at the asphalt as if it were to blame for his misfortune.

"Hey!" Matt shouted.

Jacob stopped in the middle of the street, turning on his heel, the whisper of a triumphant smile playing on his lips as his gaze rounded on Matt.

"I'll be over in a few," Matt smiled devilishly.

Jacob held his ground, in the middle of the street, the small smile on his lips neither growing, nor faltering. "I love you Kid," he said, answering Matt's call.

The simple turn of phrase Jacob issued, did more to boil Matt's blood, than any tactile sensation Jacob had ever leveled on Matt.

"Good!" Matt answered, watching as the smile Jacob wore grew slightly larger before Jacob turned and headed towards his house. "Jacob!" Matt shouted, again halting Jacob's trek after only two paces. Jacob turned, his smile unwavering, on his heel to look at Matt. "I love you."

Jacob gave a firm nod before turning away and completing the journey across the street, where Matt watched him disappear through his front door. Matt continued to watch Jacob's house for several seconds after he disappeared through the door, wondering if his mother would really mind the fact that she hadn't heard from her son in almost fourteen hours.

"Matthew?" a questioning older male voice broke from his thoughts.

Matt turned to his right seeing Mr. Johnston, Valerie's next door neighbor on the opposite side, and his father's occasional golf partner. The man stood at the foot of his driveway in a dark blue robe, lighter blue pinstriped pajama bottoms, and brown slippers, holding a folded newspaper and wearing a troubled look on his face.

"Morning Mr. Johnston," Matt smiled, not giving a second thought that he had been shouting 'I love you' to the young man across the street.

"How was your dance?" the elderly gentlemen asked, trying to break the silence he found awkward.

Matt thought about giving a measured response, in the end he gave the man a confidant smile, "It was great," he said with an affirmative nod.

"Good," Mr. Johnston replied, however his nod was nowhere near as sure as Matt's. The older man gave Matt an uncertain smile, which Matt didn't catch, before he turned and headed back to his own residence.

Whatever prejudices there were playing on Mr. Johnston's mind as he shuffled away, weren't Matt's concern, his only objective for the time being was to first, let his mother know he was alive, second take a quick shower, and third, to get back to Jacob and finish what was started in Valerie's driveway.

Matt wandered through his house, the lingering smell of cinnamon causing a rumbling in his stomach, drawing him into the kitchen, where he found a plate resting on the counter, shrouded in saran-wrap, with a note propped against it. Picking the note up, he gave it a quick glance.

Thought you and Jacob could use some breakfast - Mom

He set the note aside, looking down out the plate and the two large cinnamon rolls it held. The thought brought a smile to his face. Deciding on saving the rolls for later, Matt set off towards the back of his house, and the door to his mother's room, which he rapped on lightly before opening it.

"Morning Mom," Matt whispered.

"Morning hun," Viola, answered with a bleary smile, stretching.

"Just wanted to let you know I was home," Matt said, "but I'm gonna grab a shower and head across the street."

"Come here," Viola said ignoring his statement and patting the bed next to her as she sat upright. "How was the dance?" she asked, watching as he crossed the room and took an easy seat on the bed next to her.

"It was great," Matt answered, grinning broadly.

Viola actually giggled over the enthusiasm with which Matt answered the question, he had met the same question concerning all the other school dances with a despondent shrug in the past. "Valerie looked so beautiful," she gushed.

Matt didn't hesitate to nod, agreeing with his mother's observation. "Jacob was..." he blushed, not being able to complete the thought.

"Absolutely handsome," Viola finished his thought, grasping the side of Matt's head and pulling it in for a kiss she placed just above his ear. "So you boys had a good time?" she asked.

Matt nodded, "We danced," he smiled, pride beaming through his embarrassment flushed cheeks.

"There were no troubles?" Viola asked with a reserved smile.

Matt shrugged lightly, fiddling with a spec on his black trousers. "Just Jay Henderson, he started talking, but Ms. Frost and a couple of the coaches were quick enough to put an end to it."

"Should I call the school?" Viola asked.

"Nah, I don't think he'll be in school this week after the stunt he pulled last night," Matt answered with a flippant nod.

"Well, I'm glad you had a good time regardless," Viola, said issuing the side of Matt's head another quick kiss.

"I'm going to take a shower and head across the street," said standing.

"What are you guys doing today?" Viola asked, looking disinterested, but keen to know the plans.

"Sleeping," Matt answered with a smile.

Viola nodded, but didn't comment any further.

Matt took what had to be the quickest shower he had ever taken, rushing through the whole washing process he usually went through. Clean, and what Matt felt was reasonably dry, Matt looked at himself in the mirror, tugging the pair of jeans he was wearing, sans boxers, down slightly so they hung and looked just right.

He ran a hand down his cheek, checking if he needed to shave. He didn't, given that he shaved yesterday while getting ready for the prom, and he only ever needed to shave once a week anyhow. He also took a moment to admire the way his hair clumped together in damp spiky chunks. It looked good on him, Matt thought, it was just a shame that it would all flatten out when his hair dried.

Forgoing a shirt, Matt grabbed his zipper-hoodie and pulled it on as he shuffled his feet into a pair of flip-flops. Again, he sought out a mirror, checking to make sure the hoodie hung just so as he experimented with various states of unzip. Settling on half zipped, with the hood thrown over his head, Matt made his way to the kitchen with the trade-mark thwaping sound of flip-flops heralding his progress and bouncing off the sterile white walls of his home, pausing only to grab the plate off the kitchen counter before he headed for the door.

Thinking better of being overtly obvious, Matt zipped his hoodie up all the way as he crossed the street. Without hesitation, Matt opened the door to Jacob's house and strolled through, announcing his presence as he closed the door behind him.

"Good morning," Matt hollered.

Joanne popped out of the kitchen, smiling broadly. "Morning Kiddo," Joanne beamed. "I was just about to fix the black-hole some breakfast, interested?" she asked, already noticing the covered plate Matt held in his hands.

"No thanks," Matt smiled, holding the plate up as he approached Joanne, "I brought cinnamon buns,"

"Oh thank God," Joanne gasped. "Your brat was stealing my strawberries, and when I said I'd make him eggs or something, he started complaining," she continued with a roll of her eyes.

"My brat?" Matt questioned, his voice breaking with light chuckle.

"I'm washing my hands of him," Joanne mocked, scrubbing her hands as if she were cleaning them in a sink. "Completely dependent..." she continued, shaking her head as if the thought were a pathetic one.

"No fair," Matt whined. "I'm only inheriting your mess," he ended the play with a smile, suppressing the urge to stick his tongue out at Jacob's mother.

"You're young still," Joanne smiled. "When you get older, you'll learn how to manipulate the situation to your advantage. Until you do," she shrugged, "you're stuck with him."

Matt laughed, shaking his head, unable to continue Joanne's game straight faced. Once his laughter died down he looked at Joanne with something akin to awe in his eyes as the thought of being 'stuck' with Jacob didn't sound too bad.

"I guess life could have worse things than being stuck with Jacob," Matt said, and Joanne noticed how his cheeks didn't flush like they usually did when Matt thought he was getting 'mushy'.

'You'll make a good wife kid', the thought flitted across Joanne's tongue, and she would have used that weapon in her arsenal if it had been Jacob gushing with compete security while standing in her kitchen. In the end, it wasn't her flesh and blood, but rather some she hoped, one day, to call her son.

"Too true..." she conceded with a nod of her head, a smile playing in the corners of her lips.

"Where is Jacob?" Matt asked, looking over his shoulder noticing, for the first time, Jacob's absence.

"Said he was going to take a shower, right before he told me to go to the park or something," Joanne said with a bemused smile that broadened at the flush the comment brought out in Matt's cheeks. Matt looked away, unable, or unwilling to look at her, which it was she couldn't decide, but figured it was a good mix of the two. She looked at the clock on the microwave, "Anyhow, seeing as you have breakfast ready, I'm going to the nursery, the backyard could use some sprucing up." Joanne did a quick mental calculation, figuring two and a-half hours would be enough time. "I should be back around ten or ten-thirty."

Matt played innocent, even though the two of them knew that was the furthest probability from the truth. He even took time to walk Joanne to the door, telling her to have a good time, and watching her drive away before he hurried back inside, unzipping the sweatshirt as he raced up the stairs.

Rounding the corner at the top of the stairs, Matt's shoulders slumped as his eyes met Jacob still wearing the disheveled suit, sprawled out on his bed sleeping. Matt was disappointed as he shuffled into Jacob's room, but no less detoured, as he kicked off the flip-flops, and slid into the bed behind Jacob, gathering his sleeping beau into his arms, allowing the hypnotizing sound of Jacob's breathing lull him to sleep.

Bob Johnston sat at his kitchen table, the morning paper abandoned in front of him, along with the bowl of congealed oatmeal. His mind lost on thoughts of other people's concerns, about what his wife would have said about Richard's boy. 'Leave it be', the echo of her voice lapped at his conscious. Bob scowled as he stood, he never listened to the woman when she was alive, why should he fall prey to the stalking memory in the recesses of his mind? Eschewing her better sense of leaving the issue drop, Bob picked up the phone, quickly dialing a number.

Jacob stirred, the sound of a phone ringing pulling him forward, as he became aware of the numbness of his left arm and the weight of Matt's hand resting with ease on his abdomen. Jacob smiled, in spite of feeling disappointed that he had fallen asleep as soon as he hit the comfort of his bed. Even with the annoying lack of feeling in his limb trapped under Matt, Jacob reasoned that this wasn't all too awful a way to spend a Sunday. As he lay there, trying to ignore the persistent cries of a phone which wouldn't be ignored, Jacob figured he had better answer it before it woke Matt up.

"Hullo?" Jacob said pulling the receiver to his ear.

"Good afternoon Kid," Josie's bubbly voice sounded from the other end of the connection.

"What time is it?" Jacob asked in a hushed voice, his eyes scanning his room for a clock.

"Twenty till one," Josie answered a giggle in her voice. "I take it the big dance turned into a hot date."

"Huh?" Jacob questioned, not following Josie.

Josie laughed, "If your just waking up at one in the afternoon, I'd bet you had a good night."

"Oh," Jacob's cheeks flushed as he looked over at Matt, who was beginning to stir, aware of a conversation happening on the edge of his consciousness. "It was nice, awesome actually. Nothing like I had expected. No spiked punch, or pig's blood and crazed chicks."

"I should hope not!" Josie laughed.

"We danced," Jacob smiled, still watching Matt, the first dance at the prom playing across his mind. "Everyone was watching, but it didn't matter. Then, we danced on the beach of that quarry I told you about, under the stars, and..."

"Then you danced in the backseat of a car?" Josie asked with a playful chuckle.

"No!" Jacob shouted, catching himself, his eyes switching to find Matt's eyes open watching him. "We hung out until the sun started coming up and decided it was time to head home."

"Don't tell me you went home and left your beau all alone," Josie chided.

A sly grin, accentuated by a devious twinkle in his eye, spread like molasses across Jacob's lips. Giving Josie a small shrug she couldn't see, "He's in my bed," Jacob answered in a whisper.

"OH!" Josie shouted in excitement, "Call me later," she quickly rambled off before abruptly hanging up. Jacob pulled the phone away and stared at it curiously, wondering why she had hung up like that.

"You fell asleep," Matt noted, breaking Jacob's reverie with the cordless phone in his palm. "A guy's got expectations on prom-night," he continued with an impish grin.

Jacob matched Matt's grin easily as he tossed the receiver aside and rolled over, pulling his legs under himself as he landed astride Matt's lap. "You took too long," Jacob answered, pushing his pelvis into Matt's as he leaned down.

"I brought breakfast," Matt answered, hoping to buy Jacob's affection with food.

Jacob leaned further in, tracing his tongue along Matt's collar bone, blazing a trail across Matt's taut skin and up the side of his neck, ending the path just as his nose pressed against Matt's earlobe. Matt emitted a guttural groan as Jacob's tongue slid across his skin, reactively curling his head in the direction of the tickling pressure.

"You sure did," Jacob whispered, nibbling at Matt's earlobe as his hand trekked down Matt's exposed chest, taking the moment to tweak one of his nipples.

"Your mom is here," Matt cautioned, as Jacob popped the button on his jeans.

"And your not wearing any drawers under here," Jacob said, tugging on the flaps of Matt's open pants, while pulling away from the crook of Matt's neck, wearing a devious grin.

"Drawers?" Matt asked, Jacob's turn of phrase throwing whatever caution Matt may have held to the wind.

Jacob nodded, curling his fingers around Matt's exposed dick, giving it a gentle squeeze. "Drawers," he repeated, before silencing Matt's retort with a deep kiss.

"How very southern of you," Matt chuckled, the kiss broken, while he busied himself fumbling with the buttons on Jacob's white dress shirt and pushing it off.

Richard sat at his desk, pouring over a stack of polling results which he held in his hands, as he reclined in his seat. On the opposite end of the spartan office was a bank of five televisions, all tuned to different news channels and muted, save for the center and largest of them all. The days newspapers lay on the floor in-front of the television bank, stripped of useless advertisements, the local and national news sections spread open.

Catherine Embry, Richard's key political strategist, sauntered into his office with a stride every bit as purposeful and evident as her feminine wiles. With little notice by Richard, she crossed the office and perched herself on his desk, crossing her long legs at the knee.

"So is it just the name?" she questioned after a few moments passed without Richard's recognition. "Or do all men just love causing scandal?" Richard offered her an annoyed look, but didn't answer. Catherine acknowledged the look with a pert nod of her head. "So I take it you haven't heard the news yet."

"What news?" Richard asked, setting the slim stack of papers he was perusing down while he looked at her with curiosity.

"There was a bit of a ruckus at the Grove High prom last night," Catherine answered, looking bored with the subject. "Apparently two boys were dancing together and it caused a scene, which ended in a boy being thrown out of the function."

Richard was only mildly annoyed with her intrusion moments ago, now he was on the verge of verbally reprimanding her for interrupting him with the trivial goings-on of a high school prom. He let out a huff as he issued Catherine a scathing look and reached to retrieve his polling results.

"I guess it would do to mention, that one of the two boys dancing with each other, was your son Matthew," Catherine responded, issuing Richard the same demanding look that he had just leveled in her direction. Richard paused in his attempted retrieval of the polling information. Straightening himself out instead, as his jaw muscles flexed with his simmering anger, at being embarrassed in a semi-public way.

"That's it?" he questioned, folding his fingers together, thinking it wasn't so bad in the end, just a bunch of high school kids who probably didn't know his bookish son from the next nobody.

"For last night, then a Bob Johnston phoned a little while ago, said your son was shouting 'I love you' to the boy across the street. He wanted to know if you knew your son was, and I quote..." Catherine's eyes narrowed as her face wrinkled with general distaste, "'one of those homo-perverts'," Catherine finished.

Richard sat across from the attractive woman, who's dark eyes matched her dark hair, seething. Did he know? Not with any modicum of certainty. Had he suspected? He was always pushing Matt, soccer, little league, pee-wee football, but Matthew always refused, preferring to draw in his faggy little book instead. He would have been screwing Valerie months ago, if he where his son, and if Matthew was, he hid the affair very well, but Richard knew that wasn't the case the day he walked into his son's room weeks ago.

"You told him no, I trust." Richard said, his voice even, void of the rippling emotion that was coursing through him.

Catherine nodded in the affirmative. "That I did, but the question is, did you?"

Richard refused to give voice to that answer, issuing the woman a tight nod of his head instead.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Catherine scolded. "You left us open Richard, vulnerable to loose funding, to loose the campaign. I told you when we started this that I don't loose, didn't I?" the dark beauty was ferocious as she laid into Richard.

"Yes," Richard answered with a firm tone. "What do we do now?"

"Make a statement, if it spreads any further, tell the press your son has a history of being dysfunctional, mental stability issues, drug dependence problems. Be the saintly father who is doing everything you can to help your son be the best man he can be, but in the end, it's just as simple as he's always been broken."

Richard scoffed at the notion, some small sliver of parental pride fighting against his political self-preservation. Matthew using drugs? The notion was just as crazed as it sounded, Richard had known for a measured fact that his son had never used drugs, as attested by the drug screening he ordered along with Matthew's annual physical with-out Matthew's knowledge.

"Matthew has never used drugs," Richard countered in a tone that said the issue wasn't open for further discussion.

"That very well may be, but telling the press he is well adjusted, just isn't an option after some lurid encounter in the middle of a family park," Catherine fought back.

"So I do this, ruin my son's reputation, as a preemptive strike?" Richard growled, slamming his hand on the desk.

"No, dissuade him if you can at first. I'm just warning you, when the press finds out, or worse off, our opponents, this is probably where you will have to align yourself. Not to mention, it's going to just look bad to the religious wing. You need to be upfront about that the next time you speak with Freemen," Catherine said, cooling as she ran a hand over her hair, which was pulled back in a tight bun.

"Lead the lamb to the altar?" Richard scoffed with an arched brow, knowing Freeman's claims of 'curing' several ex-gay men.

"No, but it will show you believe in him, when you stand and announce your initiative that you hold his beliefs as your own, in spite of having a gay son." Catherine answered with a self-satisfied smile.

Richard watched the woman for a moment, realizing, for what must have been the millionth time, that Catherine Embry was one ruthless bitch, a beautiful, ruthless bitch. Once again, he thanked whatever chasm of fortune he had, to have crossed paths with her.

Not giving a care to be one upped by a woman, no matter what she did for him in his campaign or his bedroom, "Jacob Keats," Richard said, with his own satisfied smile. "That was the other boy, find out everything you can about him."

Catherine didn't hesitate to grab a scrap of paper off Richard's desk and scribble out the name. "We can use Raul; he's done work for me on other campaigns in the past. If there is dirt, this guy can find it."

Richard nodded his assent, "I'll talk with Matthew, he'll fight, just like the last time I came between him and this little shit. I think Matthew or Valerie said he had moved here from Sacramento. So you might want to tell this Raul guy that he may have to travel up north."

"It won't be a problem for him; he had to go to Taiwan for s similar situation," Catherine shrugged as she pulled her self off of Richard's desk.

"Find out how quick he can get me some starting information, will you, I want this Matthew issue dealt with before it becomes too much of a problem," Richard said, dismissing her, and in effect his son.