319 Winesap Lane - 23. Chapter 23 - Runaway

“Now, you know what you’re supposed to say when the welfare people get here,” I said to my younger half-brother and half-sister who were sitting on the sofa while I stood in front of them. They were born after Mom married Willy, but I considered them to be full blood relations in some circumstances; unfortunately, this wasn’t one of them.

“But, we want to come with you,” Karen said. She was the youngest and had the softest blonde hair you’ve ever seen. At seven she was a cutie pie.

“You can’t because I’m going out to California to live with my Uncle Bobby and he’s really not your uncle because he is my dad’s brother.”

“But, what are the welfare people going to do with us?” Junior asked. He was ten and the spitting image of his father, wiry, but soft and cuddly as a week-old puppy.

“They’ll get in contact with your Gram and Gramps over in Plattsburgh and maybe you’ll be able to go live with them.”

“I don’t want to live in Plattsburgh,” Karen said.

“Our mom and your dad have been gone a week and people are beginning to notice,” I said. They were a couple of junkies and probably found a crack house somewhere down near Malone where more than likely they were still whacked out of their minds on that stuff; or, they ran across someone who took exception to the way one of them looked at him and murdered them. They’d been doing pretty good for the past few months, so it was surprising they hadn’t returned from visiting Gram and Gramps (Willy’s parents), but Willy had a wild streak in him and he was still on probation from his latest incarceration. Get any amount of crack in him and he was likely to go off somewhere for quite a few days; except, this was the longest they’d ever been away from us kids.

“Okay, I’m going to make the call now,” I said. “You’ve got your bags packed and all you have to do is wait for them to show up. They’ll take good care of you, but please don’t tell them where I’m going. Can you do that for me?”

“Okay, but Ian, why can’t we go with you?” Junior asked.

“We’ve been through this and now you have to get ready to go your own way while I go away.”

I flipped open my cellphone and dialed 9-1-1. When the operator answered, I said, “Yes, we need a CPS response to 349 Market Street in Dellsville. There are two children who we think have been living alone for the past week.”

“What is your name, sir?”

“I’m just a concerned neighbor,” I said and hung up. I put the phone on the coffee table because I didn’t want anybody tracking me and said, “Okay, I’m going now.”

I walked out of the house and hurried down the street without obviously running. I needed to be out on the highway before the cops started looking for a young teen with a stuffed bookbag trying to look inconspicuous while hitching for a ride to Watertown. When I finally got out to the highway and was looking for a likely spot to hitch, a sheriff’s deputy passed me heading back into Dellsville and when I turned around to see where he was going, he turned up Market Street. I started to run.

There was a long nose dark green Mack semi rig at the lumber yard and the driver—a short middle-aged man with a gut hanging over his belt—looked like he was getting ready to pull out.

“Excuse me, sir, are you headed toward Watertown?” I asked.

“As a matter-of-fact I am,” he said.

“Could I get a ride with you? I can pay my way if need be.”

“Well, I usually don’t pick up riders, but you look innocent enough. Get on up in the passenger seat.”

I opened the door, climbed up inside and put my bag at my feet. I took off my gloves and knit hat and put them on top of my bag. Finally, I fastened my seatbelt and relaxed back into the seat. After a while, the driver came up into the cab. He gave me a strange look and said, “Let’s see, my guess is you’re about fourteen. My Charlie is fourteen and compares favorably with you. You seem a bit over dressed; how many pants you wearing?”

“Three.”

“And, I suspect as many shirts, too. Yet, your bag is full, too. Have you thought this out?”

“What out?”

“Don’t kid me! Say, we haven’t been properly introduced,” he said as he held out his still gloved hand. “Jack Nelson or Little Rabbit is my handle on the CB. What’s yours?”

“Ian Moran.”

“Ian Moran, huh? I ran into a Gary Moran up this way about, gee, I guess it’s got to be at least twelve years now. You wouldn’t happen to be his kin or such?”

“He was my dad. He was killed in Afghanistan eleven years ago,” I said trying to think back when he was around, but only coming up with the vague blur of incomplete memories.

“Sorry to hear that; your mom find someone new?”

“Yeah,” I said flatly.

“Don’t get along with the man; I take it?”

“He’s been in prison a lot. When he’s home he and Mom do drugs; when they’re not fucking like rabbits.”

“You stay away from that junk?” He asked as he stared straight into me with the eyes of a parent.

“Yes, sir. I’m not that stupid.”

“Well, as much as I’d like to sit here a jaw with you, I’ve got to get this rig on down the road,” he said as he took off his gloves and coat and threw them back into the sleeper. “Where in Watertown can I drop you?”

“Any on-ramp heading south will be fine,” I said trying not to sound too particular where he dropped me.

“Where are you really heading?”

“My Uncle Bobby’s place out in Fresno, California.”

“That’s quite a ways past Watertown. You got it all figured out?”

“Mostly.”

“Mostly. Well, that’s good enough for me because I’m not stopping in Watertown this trip to see the family because I’ve got a load of pine waiting for me down in North Carolina that’s heading to Texas. Where can I drop you between here and there?”

“Doesn’t I-81 cross the Thruway near Syracuse?”

“As a matter of fact, it does; just north or on I-481 on the northeast side. I’d rather not drop you on the side of the interstate. How about I run you down to Binghamton. I-86 crosses there and you might be able to get a trucker heading west at one of the truck stops there.”

“No; can you just drop near Syracuse? My great-aunt Em lives there and maybe she will help me.”

“Okay Ian, I’ll drop you in Syracuse,” Jack said as he cranked up the engine, checked his mirrors, and put the rig in gear. He pulled out onto the state highway and soon we were down to US-11 where he turned south. I pulled a book out of my bag and began to read.

* * *

“Come on, Ian, wake up,” I heard as I felt someone jostling my shoulder. “Come on, I’ve got to get back on the road.”

I opened my eyes and looked around. We were parked at the side of an off-ramp. All around I could see street lights, so I asked, “Where are we?”

“Syracuse, this is where you get off and be on your way. I checked around on the CB coming down from Watertown and it seems you’re already a hot potato. I wish I could help you some more, but I can’t take the risk of DOT finding you in my truck. Good luck to you. Like I said, I wish I could do more, but I could lose my license if we were caught together. Goodbye, Ian.”

I put my gloves and knit hat on pulling it down over my ears. I looked over at Jack and wondered what the DOT was and why he was so afraid of them finding me in his truck. They must be some kind of special police for truckers. I opened my door and slowly climbed down; and, then grabbed my bag.

“Thanks for what you did for me,” I said.

“No problem, son. I hope you find your way to California.”

I climbed down to the ground and shut the door. The truck pulled away, crossed with the light, and was speeding up the onramp. I watched it merge onto the freeway and disappear around a curve.

I hung my backpack over my left shoulder and started to walk toward the intersection. Truth be told, I had no idea where I was. I’d only been down here to see Aunt Em a couple times with Mom, so I didn’t actually know where she lived or even if she was still alive. I remembered her being quite elderly when we’d been at her place, so I supposed it was possible she was dead. I was almost to the intersection when red lights bathed me and a police siren chirped behind me. I knew I could’ve run, but where would I go. I barely knew where I was. I let my bag slip off my shoulder, looked down at my feet, and waited for I don’t know what.

I heard footsteps come up behind and go around in front of me. I didn’t look up. I figured there was no way I was going to be able to go out to California now.

“Your name,” a man’s voice said.

“Ian.”

“Ian, what?”

“Ian Michael James Moran.”

“I see. Okay, Ian, I’ve got to put you in the cruiser. Are you going to come peaceably or do I have to cuff you?”

“I won’t give you any trouble,” I said softly. What could I do, run? Where would I go?

Another police car, with flashing lights, pulled up alongside and through the open passenger window the cop yelled, “Do you need any help, Bob?”

“No, he’s the runaway from Franklin County and he’s agreed to surrender peaceably.”

“Coffee at four?”

“Nah, this kid’s going to take a while to process considering what happened to his parents.”

“Okay, maybe tomorrow night,” the other cop said. He shut the window and leaving his flashing lights on he went through the intersection and up the onramp.

“He’s not going to stop Jack, is he?” I asked.

“That the trucker who brought you down here?”

“Yeah.”

“No, he’s already been stopped.”

“By the DOT?”

“What do you mean by that?”

“I don’t know. Jack said he was worried the DOT would catch him with me in the truck. Who’s the DOT?”

“Look, son, the U.S. Department of Transportation regulates the trucking industry. State police and in some states county mounties help out, but we all enforce the regulations of the DOT. Truckers just refer to us as the DOT.”

“That’s stupid,” I said as the trooper opened the door to the backseat of the cruiser. “What’re you going to do to him?”

“That depends on what he did to you.”

“He didn’t do anything to me,” I said as I slipped into the backseat. “I just rode with him until he dropped me here in Syracuse.”

“Okay, son, we’ll have to check,” he said. “I’m sure you know how it is, considering.”

“Considering what?”

“We have a report from the Franklin County Department of Social Services on you. Are you certain you didn’t offer something as compensation for the trucker bringing you down here?”

“What do you mean by that?”

“I’m sure you know how it is,” he said as he started the car and pulled off the shoulder.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Uh, huh, we’ll get that cleared up when I get you processed in Hillbrook.”

“What’s that?”

“In common parlance, you’d probably call it juvie for Onondaga County.”

“Oh, yeah, that,” I said finally accepting my fate at the hands of this state trooper who had yet to identify himself. Maybe, I wasn’t worth it in his eyes. After all, I was just a runaway, but what was it about my parents that made my case different? There wasn’t much I could do until I was put in kiddie jail.

* * *

I woke up the next morning in a small bed in juvie. I remembered from the previous night that there was some question as to what they were going to do with me considering my status in Franklin County and they decided, for the time being, it was probably best to keep me in juvie until they could determine what to do with me. I washed my face and put on some clean clothes. I went to the door and found, not surprisingly, it was locked. I went back and sat on my bed.

After a while the door opened and a woman came in holding a tray that looked like it might have some food on it. I stood up, waiting for her to determine what was going to happen next.

“Hello, Ian, I brought you some breakfast,” she said. “I’m Ms. Blodgett; I’m a psychological counselor here at Hillbrook. Go ahead sit down and eat.”

To say the least I was famished and I tore into the food like I hadn’t eaten in a month. Finally, I finished the orange juice and looked over at the woman who was sitting in the only chair in the cell.

“Now, what?” I asked.

She stood up and came over to the bed where I was sitting. She picked up the tray and placed it on the chair. She sat down next to me and took my left hand in hers.

“This is never easy, Ian, but I have to tell you your parents are dead,” she said in a soft voice.

“How?”

“They were in Plattsburgh parked along Lake Champlain and OD’d.”

“He wasn’t my real father; he died in Afghanistan,” I said as I felt a tear fall out of my right eye. “Mom married that man after she received her portion of the life insurance. Dad set up a separate plan for me, but Mom was the trustee so I don’t know if there is any money in the account considering she was doing drugs with Willy. He was her new husband. He was in prison a lot for doing drugs.”

And, then I totally lost it. I don’t know how long I cried, but eventually I felt loving arms enveloping me in a warm hug and I slowly stopped crying. Yet, I stayed in those arms not wanting to lose the love they offered. When I was younger, after my dad had died, Mom often had come to me and held me as she cried over her loss, but eventually those times became infrequent until she brought home Willy who fucked her loudly in the bedroom she once shared with my dad. Then the drugs started. They did everything from crack to smack and sometimes pot when they couldn’t get anything else.

“I remember once when Mom was at work down at the Stop and Go and Willy gave me an injection of smack,” I said to the person holding me. “I don’t remember much about that, except that Willy fucked me because Mom was at work and he couldn’t fuck her. I suppose it hurt—I know it hurt when I finally came back—but I remember shitting when he eventually pulled out. He slapped me real hard and drove his fist into my balls. I passed out, but I remember him doing that. When Mom came back from work I was still naked lying next to Willy who was passed out. She pulled me out of the bed and practically threw me into the bathtub. She cleaned me up and put me to bed. I don’t know what she did to Willy, but he never again assaulted me or tried to get me to take their drugs.”

“You’re safe now, Ian, no one is going to ever trouble you again,” Ms. Blodgett said.

“But, what’s to become of me?” I asked. “I don’t want to go back to Dellsville.”

“There’s a group home west of here in Wayne County. They welcome gay boys. Do you think you’d be interested in going there?”

“Yeah, sure, if you think it’d be okay,” I said wondering what a foster home full of gays would be like. I had more questions than I could ask.

“I think you’ll find it to be a very pleasant place,” she said. “I’ll contact the social worker who handles placements at that home.”

* * *

A couple days later I was taken from my cell and escorted to the reception area where I saw an older man standing at the counter talking to one of the staff who turned his head in my direction. The man looked over at me and smiled.

“Ian, are you ready to go to your new home?” he asked.

“Yeah, I guess,” I said.

“Got all your stuff?”

“Yeah.”

“Come on then, I’m Bill Daniels. I’ll be escorting you to the group home.”

I followed him out the door and down the sidewalk to a late model Explorer. He opened the back and I set my backpack and the paper bag the staff gave me for my other clothes inside. After he shut the hatch, I went around to the passenger door. I watched him get in. I don’t know why, but I hesitated a moment. He stared at me and lowered the window.

“Coming?” he asked. “It’s okay, you’ll like living there. All the boys are looking forward to meeting you.”

“Okay,” I said as I got in and fastened my safety belt. “Let’s go.”

“Don’t worry Ian, all the other boys have their own stories and most of them have boyfriends.”

“Where is the place?”

“It’s in a small town called Warnton. There’s a college there and public beaches down on Lake Ontario. The home is owned by a professor at the college who is retiring next month. I promised him I wouldn’t bring him any new boys until then, but I guess you’re an emergency who needs a placement right away. I’m sorry about your parents.”

“Only one of them was my parent and that was my mom. That other guy was the man married to my mother. That’s all he was to me. He had a big dick and used drugs. My mother was particular to men with big dicks. I don’t remember him much, but my real father must have had a big dick too otherwise Mom probably wouldn’t have married him.”

“If you don’t mind me asking, how do you know your step-father was well endowed?”

“I seen it, lots of times. He’d come into the bathroom when I was getting ready for bed and pull it out. He made me touch it. He squirted his stuff on me before I took my shower. When I got older, you know, got hair on my dick. He made me rub myself while I rubbed him. He liked it when we squirted at the same time. Usually when I did it before him he’d slap my face. When I was younger, I remember he fucked me once, but he never did that again. Finally, he made me put his dick in my mouth until he squirted his stuff. He made me swallow it.”

I sat in the car staring forward. What more could I say. I probably said too much.

“I’m sorry,” I said softly. “Maybe I shouldn’t have said what I did. I do want you to know I didn’t enjoy what that man made me do.”

“No, what he made you …”

“Look, I know it was abuse. I know that, okay? But his dad was the county sheriff. Nobody would’ve believed me if I said something.”

“Didn’t you say he and your mother did drugs?”

“Yeah, and he was in prison a lot because of that, but that didn’t stop the fact that his father was the sheriff. Plus, I’m a Moran and a Moran in Dellsville is no better than a pile of dog shit on a sidewalk; and, that man wouldn’t let me forget that.”

“You have a half-brother and half-sister now living with your grandparents in Plattsburgh. Don’t you want to eventually live with them?”

“They’re not my grandparents and I’m a Moran from Dellsville whose mother encouraged their little boy to use drugs when she wasn’t spreading her legs before him like a common whore.”

“Oh, dear, I had no idea.”

“No, you wouldn’t. You don’t know what it’s like there and you don’t know the people who live up in that part of the state. How long is it going to take to get to where we’re going? Didn’t you say it was Warmton or whatever?”

“Warnton and we’ll be there in about an hour.”

“Do you mind if I shut my eyes?”

“No, Ian, that’s probably a good idea.”

* * *

“Ian, we’re almost there,” I heard through the dream I was having. It was the usual one of a faceless man with his dick out wanting me to make him squirt.

“Ian, come on, wake up.”

“Huh? Where am I?”

“We’re almost at the group home.”

“Oh, there,” I said as an image of an adult dick crossed my consciousness.

“Are you okay?”

“I guess I’m just a little nervous.”

“That’s understandable, but I want to assure you this is a good placement. You’ll have a lot of support from the other residents. One of the boys—Jamie is his name—is kind of the senior boy at the house. I’m sure he’ll be willing to help you with whatever you need. He might even find you a boyfriend at the high school if you give him the chance.”

“They don’t mind gays here?”

“Apparently not.”

“That’s weird,” I said as the Explorer pulled to a stop in front of the biggest house I’d ever seen. There was a man standing at the curb. From the sparse gray hair on his head I assumed his was old, but he was wearing a blue sweatshirt that definitely didn’t show a belly bulge you’d expect from someone his age and his blue jeans weren’t baggy nor were they tight, but somewhere in between. Something deep inside made me nervous about him. I wondered if he had a big dick. Then he opened my door.

“Ian! Come on out, boy, welcome to 319 Winesap Lane,” the man said. “All the other boys are still at school, so we’ll have lots of time to get to know one another.”

I didn’t undo my seat belt because I didn’t want to get out.

“Ian, are you okay?” Mr. Daniels asked.

“No.”

He got out and walked around and closed my door. The two men started talking and then they turned away from the Explorer. I watched them and knew they were talking about me. Mr. Daniels was probably telling the older man that I’d been abused. Then Mr. Daniels turned around and came to my door, which he opened and said, “Come on, Ian, it’s okay to come out now. You have my assurance that nothing is going to happen to you if you get out.”

I undid my safety belt and got out. We went to the back of the vehicle where I retrieved my bags and came back to where that man was standing.

“Ian, I am Dr. Geoffrey Johnson,” he said. “A lot of the boys call me Mr. Johnson or Geoff. The boys I’m in the process of adopting call me ‘Dad’. Come on inside and I’ll show you to your room. Bill do you want to join us?”

“Yes, I think that’s best for right now, considering,” Mr. Daniels said.

I followed the old man up the walk and into the house. Mr. Daniels followed along behind me. We went up some stairs and turned into a bedroom that had a huge bed. There were windows across the left side and in front of me. There was a desk and chair, a wardrobe, a dresser with a mirror, and a six-drawer chest of drawers. I noticed a door between the desk and the chest.

“Ian, you can put your clothes in whichever drawers you want,” Mr. Johnson said. “I think tomorrow afternoon we’ll go into Rochester to get you more outer clothes, underwear, and whatever else you think you’ll need. I know you’ll require some cross-trainers for gym at the high school. By the way, what grade are you in?”

“I’m a sophomore; I skipped third grade.”

“How are your grades?”

“They’re okay.”

“I encourage all residents of this house to excel, so if you need any help with your studies be sure to ask because I’ll do everything I can to see that when you leave high school you will be able to get into whatever university you want.”

“Why are you doing all this? I’m just a worthless Irish immigrant.”

“When did your family come over?”

“Oh, I don’t know, sometime in the eighties, I guess.”

“The nineteen eighties?”

“No, the eighteen eighties.”

“Where have you been living?”

“Dellsville, it’s up towards Quebec.”

“Do you know any French?”

“Nah, that’s a language for sissies.”

“If you were to learn a foreign language, what would you prefer?”

“Irish.”

“Dea.”

“Huh? What’s that?”

“Irish.”

“You speak Irish?”

“And read and write it, too. Stay with me kid and I’ll get you admitted to Trinity College in Dublin.”

“Wow, that’d be great. Do you think I’d have a chance?”

“Of course, but you’ll have to work for it and learn French, too.”

“Why?”

“Because it is the dominant language on the Continent.”

“Geoff! We’re home! Is the new boy here?” I heard a boy calling from somewhere in the house.

“We’re up in his room,” Mr. Johnson hollered.

I heard footsteps coming up the stairs and soon there were four boys in the room. For some reason, I felt really nervous with their presence in what was supposed to be my room. I looked at Mr. Johnson, but he only smiled.

“Boys, this is Ian Moran,” Mr. Johnson said.

“Hi Ian, I’m Jamie and this is my boyfriend Curt,” one of the boys said. “I live up on the third floor.”

“I’m Billy and this is my boyfriend Per,” another boy said. “I live next to you and we share the bathroom between our rooms. Across the hall from you is Jerry’s room; he’s in jail right now. Next to him is Erik’s room; he’s blind and attends the state school for the blind. He’s here weekends, but is probably in his room right now because Mr. Johnson was supposed to adopt him this morning. The other boy on the floor is Steven; he’s only nine and won’t be home from elementary school for another hour.”

“My brother’s name is Ian,” the boy identified as Curt said. “He used to be Jamie’s friend, but he gave Jamie over to me because, well, things changed between them.”

“I think I’d better go,” Mr. Daniels said. “Ian if you need anything, feel free to call me.”

“Bill, I’ll go with you to the door,” Mr. Johnson said. “Boys, do what you can to make Ian welcome. Oh, and Jamie? Please check on Ian’s clothes and see what he needs. Maybe we can go into Rochester once Wally gets here.”

“Sure thing, Geoff,” Jamie said.

I watched the adults leave and then I sat on the bed. I said, “So, who’s having sex with Mr. Johnson?”

“Eew! Nobody in this house has sex with Geoff,” Jamie said. “Even Jerry doesn’t have sex with him, though they do sleep together on occasion. Plus, if any of us had sex with him he wouldn’t be able to be our foster father and we’d have to go live someplace else.”

“I wish I could believe you, but he seems to be the kind of man who’d enjoy the company of a young boy,” I said.

“Hey, man, you gotta get that shit out of your mind,” Billy said. “None of us are hav’n sex with Geoff, Wally, or Jerry, whenever he gets back here from jail. You wanna have sex, you gotta get yourself a boyfriend.”

“I don’t know; I wish I could believe you, but where I lived there was a dude who made me do things to him.”

“Not going to happen here, Ian,” Jamie said.

“I think I’d better go,” Curt said. “Jamie I’ll see you tomorrow in homeroom.”

“Wait a sec’, Curt,” Per said. “Billy, let’s go into your bathroom for a bit.”

“A kiss you mean,” Billy said. “Why can’t you kiss me out here?”

“Come on, Billy, you know how I am,” Per said.

“Okay, but remember Curt wants to leave.”

I watched the two boys go into the bathroom and shut the door.

“Per’s embarrassed about being gay,” Curt said, “but me and Jamie aren’t. Are we, Babe?”

“You got that right,” Jamie said as he came up to Curt and planted a lip-lock on his boyfriend. Not only did they hold it until Billy and Per come out of the bathroom, but their hands were very busy on each other’s body.

“Oo, ick!” Per said when he walked out of the bathroom. “Couldn’t you guys do that in the hall or somewhere?”

“Not us, Cutter,” Curt said. “Come on, let’s leave these guys to indoctrinate their new kid.”

“Don’t call me Cutter,” Per said.

“Hey, I’m not the one with scars on his arms.”

“Why are you so mean to me?”

“Just my nature, I guess,” Curt said as he walked out of the room.

“Well, you could at least try to be nice since we have boyfriends in the same house,” Per said as he left the room.

“Fine, I’ll try to me nice to you, since we might be brothers-in-law,” I heard Curt say out in the hall. “What are you going to do about Ms. Albertson’s assignment for a paper on the American Revolution?”

“Brothers-in-law? Are you guys that serious with those two?” I asked.

“We’re serious, but we might be going to universities they won’t have a chance of getting in to,” Jamie said.

“Mr. Johnson said I might have a chance of going to Trinity College in Dublin, Ireland,” I said. “Can I believe him?”

“If he says you have a chance it go to a college in Ireland, you better believe him,” Billy said, “but you’ll have to do the school work to prove you’re deserving of his generosity.”

“Okay, Ian, unpack your bags and let’s see what you got,” Jamie said.

“Why?”

“So, we can tell Geoff what you need. You want new clothes, don’t you?”

“And, what do I have to do to reward his kindness, suck his cock or let him fuck me?”

“Hey, dude, you’re messed up,” Billy said. “We told you none of the boys in the house have sex with him. Why can’t you believe us?”

“Because adults can’t be trusted, ever.”

“Well, Geoff can be trusted,” Jamie said. “Now, empty your bags or we’ll do it for you.”

“Go right ahead. I’m not doing anything to make him think I’m going to go willingly to his bedroom tonight.”

“Geez, Ian, will you stop with thinking Geoff is going to do something to you,” Billy said.

I sat on the bed while Jamie emptied my bookbag and Billy emptied the other bag. They sorted out the clothes and piled them on the bed sorted by type. Unexpectedly, that Mr. Johnson returned and stood at the door to my bedroom.

“Well, what have we got here?” Mr. Johnson asked.

“All his clothes are not much more than rags,” Jamie said.

“Okay, we’ll have to go into Rochester and get him a full complement,” Mr. Johnson said. “I don’t see any pajamas. Ian, when did you stop wearing pajamas?”

“When it got in the way of my mother’s husband need to have sex with me,” I said.

“I see; okay, Ian, we’ll get you all the clothes you should have and I’ll leave it up to you to wear what you want,” Mr. Johnson said. “Jamie, can you go with me and Ian to get his clothes?”

“Sure thing, I’ll do whatever you ask,” Jamie said.

“Okay, when Wally gets here we’ll leave,” Mr. Johnson said. He left the room and I looked at Jamie.

“Why are you going?” I asked.

“He doesn’t want to be alone with you because you’ve been abused,” Jamie said. “I’ll be there to ensure you don’t accuse him of doing something inappropriate.”

“What kind of clothes is he going to buy for me?” I asked.

“Oh, underwear, socks, shirts, pants, pajamas, and a bathrobe, if you want. We all gather in his study to read at night and most of us are wearing whatever we go to bed in.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, Geoff wears pajamas, Jerry—who for some reason is in jail right now—wears a t-shirt and boxers, Steven and Billy wear pajamas, and I wear boxers under a lightweight robe. Whatever you decide to wear is up to you.”

“What does he prefer you to wear when he comes to your bedroom for sex?”

“Goddammit! Will you get off the idea that Mr. Johnson is having sex with us?” Billy said.

“I can’t, okay? Adult men can’t be trusted, period,” I said.

“Well, Geoff can be trusted,” Jamie said.

“I wish I could believe you, but until he proves to me that he isn’t going to force me to have sex with him I won’t trust him.”

“Ian, please give Mr. Johnson a chance, just for us, if for any other reason,” Billy said.

“Okay, but if he comes into my room tonight, I going to scream all bloody hell,” I said.

“You do that and we’ll come running,” Jamie said.

“Okay,” I said.

I wasn’t certain I trusted them or Mr. Johnson, but I knew I had to stop somewhere and trust this man. I had to admit I’d never met another man like Willy, so quite possibly Mr. Johnson wasn’t like him either. I’d just have to wait and see what happened. If he did attack me, I knew I could pack my things and take a hike.