Legacy - 23. Family Matters - Billy Mathews

Wednesday, March 25, 2043 - Five Days after the Assassination

I woke up to the most wonderful sensation. An incredible, sensual warmth enveloped me, sending waves of pleasure throughout my body. I smiled as I recognized the feel of my husband’s tongue swirling around my head and teasing my slit as his skillful hands cupped my balls and rubbed my nipples. I felt the bed shift slightly and a familiar, musky scent filled my nostrils as I felt a hard member poke me in the nose. I didn’t need to open my eyes to know what was happening. I opened my mouth and, using my hand to guide Rick’s throbbing member into my mouth, I swallowed him whole as he did the same with me.

Moving my hand from kneading his balls to teasing his ring, I pushed inside and massaged his prostate, enjoying the unique taste of the pre-cum that poured out with each press of my finger. Rick’s was so sweet - I would never tire of the taste.

Just as I felt myself getting close, there was a loud knock on the door. Dropping Rick’s manhood from my mouth, I sighed loudly as my husband added, “It comes with the territory, babe.” It seemed that scarcely a week went by without our lovemaking being interrupted by one of the teens in our charge. The boys knew they weren’t supposed to enter our personal quarters unless it was something important but what defined ‘important’ was often subject to interpretation.

By now we were both soft and I threw Rick a pair of boxers as I donned a pair of my own. Boxers might not be considered stylish anymore, but Rick and I had both grown up wearing them and we weren’t about to change now.

Opening the door, we were greeted by not one but two teenage boys, both of them dressed only in their bikini briefs. It was our two newest additions, Ryland Tanner and Darryl Williams, who’d joined us just a couple of nights before. It turned out that they’d been unofficial boyfriends since the age of twelve but Darryl only came to accept his sexuality after his father kicked him out for performing fellatio on Ryland. Ryland initially tried to place the blame entirely on Darryl but, when his own father made it clear he was never to see his boyfriend again, he lost it and ended up getting beaten and kicked out the very same night.

It was sad to see boys treated like that but that’s why we founded the Sanctuary Project in the first place. Using my clout as a three-time Super Bowl-winning quarterback, I did everything I could to educate the African American community to the plight of gay teens and the true meaning of ‘family values’. It was rare that we succeeded in getting parents to embrace their gay sons’ ‘lifestyle’. Eight times out of ten, however, the parents came to accept that their sons were still the same children they’d loved the day before they came out or were outed. Getting parents to acknowledge that their sons would never change was harder and generally took longer but, if we could get a dialog started, we almost always succeeded.

We provided a safe temporary haven for gay teens. Our ultimate goal was to reintegrate them into their families. Follow-up was equally important and, for that, we had our own staff of social workers. Child Protective Services was overburdened as it was and all too often had allowed our kids to fall through the cracks. Gay teens would never again trust us if we allowed them to fall victim to abuse after returning to their families. Our post-reconciliation monitoring was thorough and included one-on-one interviews and regular physician visits. Sadly, close to a third of our kids ultimately had to be removed from their homes and placed with gay-friendly foster parents, but a success rate that approached seventy percent was nothing to sneeze at.

Our first attempts to make contact with the Tanner and Williams families had been rebuffed but it was still very early after the initial confrontation and we knew it would likely take time. Our average resident stayed with us for about twenty weeks. Much of that time was spent just getting parents to agree to counseling but, once we reached that point, we could usually get past their initial homophobic fears and remind them just how much they loved and missed their sons.

As I looked at the two boys in front of me and tried to convey a look of encouragement with my eyes, Ryland started to speak. “I just got a call from my brother . . .” he explained, “my brother, Tariq. I haven’t seen him in three years,” and then with watery eyes, he added, “not since my dad threw him out of the house.”

“Your brother’s gay too?” Rick asked.

Shaking his head, Darryl replied for his boyfriend, “Nah, man. Rye’s dad threw Tariq out ’cause he converted to Islam . . . ’cause he ‘turned his back on Christ.’ His name used to be Tamarius.”

“We’ve been in touch off and on over the years,” Ryland continued, “by e-mail, by texting and once in a while by phone. We used to be real close but he’s changed. He’s been tryin’ to get me to convert to Islam too but he belongs to a fundamentalist mosque . . . a kinda radical one. He’s even been to Afghanistan.

“I . . . I never told him I’m queer but I guess my dad must have, ’cause Tariq's on his way here. He says he needs to see me . . . that it’s urgent.”

“Please, Billy!” Darryl continued, “somethin’s not right here. Why would he show up all of a sudden right now? Why would he want to see his gay brother? Muslims hate gays, don’t they?”

“Not all Muslims by a long shot,” I tried to explain. “We’ve taken in several Muslim boys over the years, many of whom we reunited with their parents. Fundamentalist Muslims, however, are about as accepting as fundamentalist Christians, which is to say they aren’t. When I was in high school, I knew of a boy who escaped from Pakistan after being found in bed with his best friend. The best friend stayed behind and ended up being stoned to death . . .”

“Fuck!” shouted Darryl. “You gotta keep Tariq away from Rye!”

“What I was about to say before you interrupted me,” I went on, “is that not all Muslims are like that. The boy I was talking about, Altaf, escaped from Pakistan . . . his mother used to be a nurse at St. Vincent’s Hospital. Not only did she help her son escape with help from her husband . . . Altaf’s father, but she adores her son-in-law and the many gay kids they’ve taken in over the years. I’m speaking of Altaf El Tahari, the Secretary of State, a Muslim, and Randall Bernstein, the Secretary of Health, a Jew.

“What I guess I’m getting at is, you can’t judge the actions of everyone based on the actions of a few,” I concluded.

“But what if Tariq is like that, Billy?” Darryl asked. “What if he’s coming here to kill Rye?”

Smiling, Rick answered, “We’re well-prepared for that, boys. There’s always been the possibility that angry or abusive parents would try to harm their kids or abduct them from our sanctuary. Not only is this place a fortress, but we have a direct line to the police and can summon help quickly.”

“And my husband has a black belt in Karate,” I added with my own smile. “Don’t worry . . . we’re prepared to handle just about anything.”

Then turning to Ryland, I asked, “How old is Tariq?”

“He’s twenty,” Ryland answered and then he added, “Dad kicked him out when he was seventeen.”

“I think we’d better all get dressed, since we probably don’t want to greet your brother in our underwear.”

Then with a laugh Rick added, “and we should probably brush our teeth, too.”

He’d scarcely uttered the words when the doorbell rang and so I added, “Looks like dressing will have to wait.”

“Be careful, Billy,” Darryl admonished me. “He could kill you.”

“Nah,” Ryland countered, “Tariq's not like that. I know he probably won’t like that I’m gay but he still loves me. All this time he’s kept in touch.”

“But what if you’re wrong?” challenged Darryl.

“I’m not wrong,” Ryland countered. “At least I don’t think I’m wrong.”

“Don’t worry, guys,” I reassured the boys. “I have no intention of opening the door until I’m reasonably sure it’s safe.”

Without even having to leave the comfort of our master bedroom, I punched a button on the beside security console and brought up a live video feed from the front entrance that revealed a young black man standing by the front door. Speaking into the intercom, I asked, “This is Billy Mathews. What can I do for you?”

“This is Tariq, Ryland Tanner’s brother,” the guy answered. “I’m here to see him. It’s been a long time, man.”

“Ryland told me you called,” I answered. “It’s not often we get visitors this early in the morning, however . . . we’re all just getting up. Could you come back a little later, once we’re all dressed?” I asked.

“I’m sorry, man,” Tariq answered, “but me and my friend Jamal tried to visit the ‘rents last night.” Looking down and speaking softly, he continued, “I’d hoped my old man would have changed by now but, if anything, he’s only gotten worse.” Looking up again, seemingly straight into the concealed camera, he went on, “We’d hoped to crash there last night, but Dad threw us right back out on the street. He asked me one question. He asked me if I was still followin’ the Devil’s path and I answered that I was followin’ the path of Allah, the one true God.

“That’s when he told me he wasn’t puttin’ up with none of his children bein’ anything but upstanding Christians and that me and Rye can rot together in Hell for all he cares. I was shocked that the old man had thrown Rye out, too. Since Rye’s always rebuffed me when it comes to bein’ a Muslim, I figured the only things he could do to set Dad off like that would be to use drugs or if he was gay. I know he’d never do drugs, so I guessed he must be gay.”

“How do you feel about that?” I asked. “I know a lot of black men aren’t thrilled with homosexuality, and the same holds true for Muslims. How do you feel about having a gay brother?”

Shrugging his shoulders, Tariq answered, “Where he chooses to put his dick ain’t none a my business far as I’m concerned. The main thing is he’s my brother. It’s been way too long since I seen him and I figure it’s high time I change that.”

“But why now, Tariq?” I asked.

“I’ve gone through a lot of shit lately,” Tariq started to explain. “Not that I don’t still believe but, man, I’ve really fucked up.” Getting tears in his eyes, he continued, “I really just need to be me again, you know? I was hopin’ the old man would take me back and help me through all this shit, but he’s still too bigoted to care.

“Rye’s the only family I got left, man. I really need him right now. I don’t care if he’s gay or straight . . . he’s still my brother. He’s all I got . . . the only one I can turn to.

“We don't have much money, so we had to spend the night in my car. I waited until daylight to call my bro but I have to see him, man. I need to be with him right now.”

”I’ll be right down,” I replied into the intercom.

By then, Ryland and Darryl had dressed, as had my Rick, but I instructed the boys to return to their room and shut the door until I was sure everything was on the up-and-up. I threw on a T-shirt and a pair of shorts, then Rick and I headed downstairs to the front door. Since I was the more intimidating of the two of us, even though Rick had a black belt, I went to the door while Rick stayed behind to secure the house should it be necessary.

Opening the front door and extending my hand, I said, ”Hey Tariq. I’m Billy Mathews.”

"I know who you are,” Tariq stated as he shook my hand. “Everyone knows who you are. You’re one of the greatest quarterbacks in history. Man, I can’t believe I’m actually shaking your hand.”

“I’m really just an ordinary guy,” I countered with a grin.

“Yeah, right,” Tariq continued, “an ordinary guy with three Super Bowl wins to his name. You’re a hero, man. A hero to the gay community for sure. If my bro’s gonna be that way, I'm glad he has you for a role model.”

“That’s one of the things the Sanctuary Project is all about,” I stated with pride.

“Listen, Tariq,” I continued, “I know you’re anxious to see your brother, but before I can let you in, I have to ask you if you're carrying any weapons. It’s not that I don’t trust you, but we’ve had some unpleasant incidents with some of the parents of our boys in the past. Because of that, we installed a metal detector in the inner doorframe and a gun or knife will set it off. You may need to take off your watch and empty your pockets to get through, too.”

Before I even realized what was happening, another man shoved his way in from outside, where he'd evidently been hiding, and shoved a gun up against my head. Acting swiftly, Rick closed and locked the inner door, leaving Tariq, his friend and me trapped in the vestibule. The sound of a double-beep coming from the alarm keypad inside the vestibule told me the burglar alarm had armed itself, just as it was designed to do. There’d be no getting inside the house unless I personally disarmed the alarm system.

“Open the door now, or you’re dead you mother-fuckin’ faggot!” the man shouted at me as he pushed the gun more firmly against my head.

“No way I’m gonna do that,” I replied. “You might as well shoot me now, ’cause there's nothing you can do to make me put our boys at risk.”

“You'd put your own life at risk to protect a bunch of worthless faggots?” he asked incredulously. Then he lifted the hem of his shirt and I shuddered when I saw a belt with at least a dozen sticks of what looked like dynamite. ”Open the door,” he demanded, “or I'll kill all of us . . . your precious fag boys included.”

With extreme anxiety, I entered the alarm code into the keypad, taking extra care to enter the numbers properly. I didn’t want to be responsible for the death of all our kids just because I fumbled and entered the wrong numbers in my nervousness. Once the keypad beeped to signal that the alarm was disarmed, I signaled for Rick to open the inner door, letting the three of us inside.

I felt like I was living back in 2012 with a gun pointed at my head, knowing I was about to die. I'd had that awful nightmare almost weekly ever since that horrible day - a day I nearly lost my two best friends - but this was not a dream. Not only was there a gun pointed at me, but I had a whole house full of boys to worry about - and my Ricky, the love of my life.

“All right, here’s what's gonna happen,” the man I presumed to be Jamal began. ”Tariq and me need to lay low for a while. We got in a little trouble, so we gotta stay outta sight. Things’ll prolly blow over in a month, so we're gonna stay put here until then, an’ then we’ll leave.

“We was gonna stay with Tariq's ’rents, but the old man's crazy. Even when I threatened to kill ’em both, he wouldn’t back down. The world’s a whole lot better off without them two in it, I’ll tell ya . . .”

I gasped as the seriousness of what Jamal was saying sank in and I realized that, in all likelihood, Tariq’s and Ryland’s parents were dead.

“By the time they’re found in a few days, dead of an apparent gas leak,” Jamal confirmed, “no one’ll associate their deaths with us.” I could have sworn I saw Tariq struggling to hold back tears.

Jamal continued, “’Course we couldn’t exactly stay with the old man anymore, but when he told us he’d thrown Ryland out ’cause he’s queer and that he was stayin’ with that faggot football player, he gave us the perfect solution. No one would ever think a lookin’ for us in a house full a queers.”

Opening my big mouth, I replied, “The only problem is that this house of queers is far from isolated. We have shift workers that come and go on a daily basis and there are social workers dropping by all the time. Some of the boys’ parents and family members will come by for visitation with their kids, and we’ll probably get another boy or two during the next month.”

“Then I suggest you do whatever you have to do to keep anyone from seein’ us. Tell the shift workers not to come, an’ make every excuse you can to keep anyone else from coming. Anyone who sees us has ta stay. If you guys give us any trouble, we’ll just torch the place ’an everyone inside, and move on.”

I shuddered at hearing the evil of what Jamal might do and then it dawned on me - there was no way he’d let us live, no matter what. He almost certainly intended to do just what he said. When he was done with us, he’d kill us all and use arson to cover his tracks.

I just needed to buy time. Time enough for us to figure a way out of this horrible situation. I also got the feeling that Tariq’s heart wasn’t in what he was doing. It seemed to me that Tariq was as much a victim as a perpetrator and was largely along for the ride. Perhaps we’d find a way to split their loyalties.

Just then, a couple of boys came down the stairs and stopped dead in their tracks when they saw Jamal holding a gun pointed at my head. The boys were dressed only in their bikini briefs.

“You try anythin’ and your hero will be dead,” he shouted at them. Then turning to me, he asked, “How many boys you got stain’ here?”

“Besides these two,” I replied, hoping I could spare most of the boys, “there are four more upstairs who’ll be making their way downstairs pretty soon.” Jamal already knew about Ryland and Darryl, I figured, and anything less than two more would have raised suspicion.

The look of fear on the faces of the boys who’d just joined us broke my heart. How I wanted to shield them from what was happening. Shaquel in particular didn’t need this - he’d been the victim of such terrible abuse most of his young life and I feared that any more violence could push him over the edge.

Motioning to Rick, Jamal ordered, “Go get the rest of the boys and bring them down here now. Particularly Tariq’s faggot bro and his bro’s faggot boyfriend. Bring ’em down naked. Make ’em take everything off. I don’t want them concealin’ no weapons. Take your clothes off too, while you’re at it,” the sick bastard added, and I couldn’t help but wonder if he was himself a closet case.

“Fags don’t deserve to wear clothes,” Jamal stated in conclusion. “Now get going!” he shouted.

Trying to reassure me with a smile that didn’t reach his troubled eyes, Rick headed up the stairs to round up the boys.

In the meantime, Jamal barked to the three of us still downstairs, “Now you . . . I want you to take off your clothes, too. I want to see it all hangin’ out. Now do it!”

It was so demeaning, undressing in front of this monster. He literally gawked at us as we disrobed. There was no doubt about it - there was interest in his eyes. There is nothing worse than a gay homophobe who’s denied himself his most basic sexual urges.

By the time we finished taking our clothes off, Rick had arrived with Ryland, Darryl and two of the older boys. We were all naked.

“This sure seems like a big house for just the eight of you,” Jamal commented. Then turning to Tariq, Jamal commanded, “Go search the house for more boys. If you find any, bring ’em here so I can kill ’em. We’ll show these infidels how we deal with faggots.”

I could have sworn I saw Tariq shudder at Jamal’s words. “No wait!” both Ryland and Rick shouted at the same time, and then Ryland continued, “There are nine more.”

“Bring ’em down here and maybe I won’t kill anyone . . . for now. Bring ’em down naked,” Jamal commanded.

When Rick started to make his way to the stairs, Jamal shouted, “Just where do you think you’re goin’, faggot? I meant for Rye to go get the boys.”

As Ryland made his way up the stairs, Jamal stated, “I bet you all like bein’ naked. Bet this is a real thrill for all a you.”

“If this is such a thrill, why are we all soft?” I challenged, and then I said something I probably shouldn't have. “It looks to me like the only one getting a thrill out of this is you.”

“In your dreams, faggot,” Jamal countered. “The word of Allah is clear. You’re all goin’ ta Hell an’ it don’t matter if I send ya there a little faster.”

“But didn’t Mohammed teach that Allah is a god of compassion? Didn’t he teach that Allah seeks not the death of the sinner, but that he return to His fold?”

With a smug look on his face, Jamal replied, “That’s where you’re wrong, faggot. The word of Allah is clear . . . faggots shall be put to death.”

Then as Ryland arrived with the remaining boys, Jamal pointed to one of the youngest, Jeremiah, who was fourteen but looked like he was eleven. “You!” Jamal shouted. “Come here!”

Once Jeremiah was in front of us, Jamal turned to me and ordered, “Now faggot, down on your knees!” When I just stood and looked at Jamal in disbelief, he shouted, “Down on your knees and suck his dick, NOW!”

Shaking my head, I replied, “I can’t do that.”

“This is wrong, bro,” Tariq chimed in.

“They’re just faggots, Tariq,” Jamal replied. “Would you rather I make you suck your brother’s dick?”

Then turning back to Jeremiah and me, Jamal grabbed Jeremiah, pointed the gun at his head and shouted at me, “Get down on your knees and suck his dick and make him shoot, or I’ll blow his fuckin’ head off!”

The poor boy looked terrified. There was no way he was going to have an erection, let alone ejaculate. Jamal was insane.

I didn’t want to - I couldn’t molest this poor boy who’d already been through so much but the thought of him being shot dead in front of all of the boys was far worse. In my heart I knew he would forgive me even as the thought of what I was going to do repulsed me. I took one last look at my Ricky, who simply nodded his head, letting me know he’d already forgiven me, and then I got down on my knees and prepared to do the unthinkable.

Just then the phone rang.

“Just let it ring,” Jamal commanded.

“If it’s a social worker, they’ll just keep calling back until we answer,” I pointed out. “There‘s always supposed to be someone here, so if we don’t answer, they’ll probably either come over to check on what’s happening or they’ll call the police.”

“Go ahead,” Jamal responded, “but don’t under any circumstances let them come over.”

Grateful for what I hoped would be more than a brief reprieve, I picked up the phone and answered, “Sanctuary Project, this is Billy Mathews.”

“Billy, this is Samantha Clarkson,” a woman responded. “I’m Ryland Tanner’s case worker.

“Listen,” she continued, “there's been an incident involving his parents.” I shuddered thinking about what she was probably going to tell me but was pleasantly surprised when she said, “Someone broke into their house last night and tried to kill them but, thankfully, a neighbor became concerned and found them in time. A few more hours and the whole house would have gone up from a gas leak.”

I was elated but did everything I could to keep a stern face so as not to alert our captors that anything was amiss with their plans.

Continuing, she went on, “The main reason I’m calling is that I’m worried Ryland and the rest of you guys may be in danger. The police aren’t telling me much and the only reason I found out about the break-in in the first place is because I stopped by the parents’ house this morning on one of my routine outreach visits, only to find the place swarming with police.

“What I was able to find out is that the FBI is involved because they think the break-in might have been by Ryland’s brother and by another man who’s believed to be part of an Islamic terrorist group.

“Have you by any chance heard from Ryland’s brother, Tariq, or do you know if Ryland has?” she asked.

What dare I say? If I even hinted that we’d had contact with Rye’s brother let alone that he was here now, Jamal would certainly pick up on it. If they realized the police and FBI were already looking for them, they’d certainly try to get as far away from here as possible, but they’d very likely kill us all before they left. Even an innocent phrase like, ‘No, we haven’t seen Ryland’s brother,’ could mean the death of us all. There had to be a way of getting through to Samantha without tipping off our captors.

Then I thought, perhaps not answering the question, or giving an inappropriate answer, might tip her off that something was amiss and so I answered, “I can’t believe you have another boy for us already.”

“Another boy?” she responded. “What are you talking about? Didn’t you hear what I just told you?”

Continuing my tack, I replied, “I'm sorry, Samantha, but we just can’t take on another boy right now. We’re short on space and I don’t have the personnel to take care of anyone else right now.”

“Billy,” she responded, “is there something wrong? What the hell are you talking about?”

“I understand you’re in a tight spot,” I replied, “and I appreciate what you’re saying. Believe me, I hear you loud and clear. The kid may desperately need us but we simply don’t have the room. We already have more folks here than we should. We just can’t help you right now. You’ll just have to place him somewhere else, at least until a couple guys leave.” I hoped I hadn’t given too much away in saying that but I was getting desperate to get the right message across.

“Billy, I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she replied. “Something isn’t right and I’m coming over right now.”

“NO!” I practically shouted into the phone. Then a bit more calmly, I continued, “There’s no need for you to come here yourself. You aren’t going to change my mind on this.”

After a lengthy pause, she replied, “Are you sure, Billy? I mean, I’m just five minutes away and I can certainly stop by and maybe talk to Ryland if he’s up to it. Perhaps he’s heard from his brother and just not told you. He has his own mobile, after all.”

Damn! She just wasn’t getting it. Dejectedly, I answered, “That’s very possible but I can’t help you, Samantha. There’s absolutely no reason for you to stop by personally.”

“Well if you’re sure,” she replied. “If you change your mind, you know how to reach me.”

“You’ll be the first person I’ll call if the situation changes,” I assured her.

My heart sank as I hung up the phone.

“OK, faggot,” Jamal commanded. “Back down on your knees . . . NOW!”

Jamal still had his gun planted firmly against Jeremiah’s head. I truly had no choice.

As I lowered myself to the floor, Tariq called out, “C’mon, Jamal. This ain’t right. You got ’em where you want ’em, but makin’ Williams suck a poor kid’s dick is sick, man!”

“Like I said, they’s just faggots, Tariq,” Jamal countered. “They like this sort of thing. It’s what they’s born to do. Maybe I’ll have the kid suck my dick when they’re done. After all, a mouth’s still a mouth. Hell, I bet I’m fulfilling all their wildest fantasies.”

“I wonder about you, Jamal,” Tariq challenged. “I think maybe you get off thinking about boys. Maybe you have a thing for young boys at that. Maybe it’s your fantasies you’re fulfilling.”

Jamal suddenly lunged at Tariq, grabbing him tightly and pushing the gun against his head. With his mouth just inches from Tariq’s, Jamal shouted, “Who the fuck are you to tell me what to do! I’m no fuckin’ pervert! I’m just lookin’ for a little ‘entertainment’ is all.

“Maybe it’s you who’s the faggot. After all, your brother’s queer. Maybe you’re just afraid I’ll notice you get off seein’ Mathews suck the kid.”

Jamal then threw Tariq off of him and pointed his gun right at Tariq’s heart as he said. “You have five seconds to get your clothes off . . .”

”You’re crazy, man!” Tariq practically cried but Jamal started counting and Tariq’s eyes opened wide when he realized his ‘friend’ was really going to shoot him. Tariq practically ripped his clothes off.

“Alright, now down on your knees and suck the kid’s dick!” Jamal demanded.

Shaking his head and with tears in his eyes, Tariq quietly said, “Jamal, please don’t make me do this. It goes against everything we believe in.”

Jamal just stretched his arm, bringing the gun that much closer and said, “The Prophet himself taught us to deal justly with the wicked. Justice demands we give back in kind punishment to fit the crime. ‘An eye for an eye.’ The sodomite must be sodomized! Now get to it!” Jamal demanded.

Getting down on his knees and with tears streaming down his face, Tariq faced Jeremiah and quietly said, “I’m sorry,” before he opened his mouth and took the boy inside.

“Don’t just ‘stand’ there,” Jamal commanded. “Make the boy cum in your mouth, man.”

Letting Jeremiah’s dick slip out of his mouth, Tariq replied, “I can’t, man. He’s totally limp. This poor kid’s shaking. You’ve got him terrified.”

“Then find a way to make him sprout wood. Make him cum, or you’re both dead.” As if to emphasize his point, Jamal pointed the gun back at Jeremiah’s head, causing him to whimper.

“You can do me instead,” Ryland called out as he walked up to Jeremiah and placed his hands on the younger boy’s shoulders. At six feet, four inches, Ryland Tanner towered over Jeremiah.

“I can’t do it with you . . . you’re my brother,” Tariq complained.

”Sure you can, bro,” Ryland replied. “You can do it because I’m your brother, and because I love you. We can get through it together.

Both of them looked at Jamal, who simply nodded his ascent. Ryland gently pushed Jeremiah out of the way and took his place in front of his own brother.

Closing his eyes, Ryland seemed to will himself to get hard. He was undoubtedly fantasizing to himself. In less than a minute, he was fully erect.

Just as Tariq moved forward to take his brother in his mouth, the doorbell rang.

“Don’t answer that,” Jamal commanded.

“If I don’t,” I challenged, “whoever it is will be back, possibly with the police. Everyone knows there’s supposed to be someone here 24/7, so they’re not gonna go away.

“Shouldn’t I at least see who it is?” I asked.

“All right, you can use that intercom thingy,” Jamal conceded, “but be sure to send them away.”

Nodding my head, I walked behind the counter that separated the kitchen from the great room and pushed the ‘talk’ button on the intercom. I could see on the display that there was a woman standing in front of our front door. It was Samantha! She‘d really come after all.”

“Hey Samantha,” I answered. “It’s Billy. What a pleasant surprise, but you didn’t need to come. Everything’s fine here.”

“Could I please come inside, Billy?” Samantha asked. “It’s really important.”

Thinking quickly, I replied, “I‘ve got a bit of a situation here. One of the boys decided to take it upon himself to make breakfast for the rest of us and nearly burned the house down in the process. Maybe that’s an exaggeration, but not by much. The place is a disaster and I’d rather you come back after we’ve had a chance to clean up a bit.”

“Billy, you know I have three boys myself,” she answered back. “I guarantee you there’s nothing inside I haven’t seen before . . . many times!

“Please let me in, Billy,” she continued. “It’s really important. I have reason to believe that Ryland Tanner may be in danger staying here. The FBI’s looking for his brother and they think he may try to come here. We need to get Ryland out of the house, for his own safety . . . and yours.”

“Fuck!” I heard Jamal say in the background.

“So can I come in?” Samantha asked again.

Turning and looking at Jamal, he finally said, “What’s one more hostage? Bring her in.”

“But wait!” one of the boys shouted. “We’re all naked!”

Throwing on a shirt and a pair of shorts from where we’d left our clothes, I assured them, “With three boys of her own, you don’t have anything she hasn’t seen before.”

As I walked to the front door, I tried to think of how I might be able to convince Samantha to leave. The last thing I wanted to do was to bring her into a hostage situation and this was clearly turning into a hostage situation. Unfortunately, I just didn’t know how to shoo her away without making our captors even more paranoid.

Opening the door to the vestibule and then the front door, I very quietly told Samantha, “We’re being held hostage and you definitely don’t want to come in here.”

“WHAT DID YOU SAY TO HER?” Jamal shouted out.

Turning around, I replied, “I just tried one last time to get her to leave.”

“It’s too late for that now,” he said. “Just get her in here.”

As I Turned back to her, Samantha quietly said, “It’s going to be OK, Billy,” and then she followed me inside.

“Now, both of you strip,” Jamal commanded us as he snatched Samantha’s purse and started to open it.

At that moment, with both hands needed to fumble with the purse, he had the gun pointed down, away from us all. It was then that Rick made his move. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a blurred form arching through the air. It took a moment for my brain to register that it was Rick’s foot swinging toward Jamal’s neck.

Then there was a sickening, cracking sound and Jamal started to fall. There was the sound of a gunshot, then a strange hissing sound before everything I looked at turned to gray and then started to go black.