1968 - 13. Chapter 13

June 4, 1968

I sat in my study calmly reading the paper. The book had gone out to the publisher yesterday, and I was in a lull, with nothing pressing to do. It was kind of nice. I finished up paying the bills, and was happy to note that, thanks to my parents, I was rich again. And things seemed to be relatively calm in the world right now. The situation in France seemed to have cooled. The revolution had failed miserably in overthrowing the government, or so it seemed, but there were going to be new elections. No one had known where De Gaulle had gone during those scary days of May. We all suspected that he'd been rallying troops to storm the barricades like a modern day Napoleon. Instead, he was hiding at a German Air Force base. Hilarious.

Sam was at Stanford, taking finals. He'd been so stressed the past week, so very stressed, that I needed to do something besides sex to reward him for his labors. I was about to pick up the phone to see if I could plan a fun trip somewhere when Betty burst in.

“JP, you got a phone call. Says his name is Peter Gordon.” Thinking of Peter always made me grin.

“JP! It's Peter. I'm so sorry to bother you.”

“You're not bothering me Peter. It is always good to hear from you.”

“You may not say that after you hear what I have to say. I need a favor. To be honest, I already assumed you'd do it for me.”

What now? “What do you need Peter? You know I'll help if I can.”

“We've had a problem here. After you left, well, Deke and I warmed up as a couple. There's nothing there except friendship, but it was closer than it was before. I still haven't gotten up the nerve to let him fuck me though,” he said giggling. Then he got serious, and back to the point. “Georges was apparently pissed that I'd gotten away with denying that we were together, so he snuck up one night and took some pictures through my window. Deke caught him. Beat him within an inch of his life. Georges is still in the hospital. He's comatose at this point. The police have no clue as to who did it, but I figured Deke had better get out of town. Can he stay with you for awhile?”

“Wow Peter. That's some pretty heavy shit. Of course he can stay with me. I'm not sure he'll be willing to come back though, after my cousin gets his hands on him.”

Peter giggled. “That's OK JP. I just want Deke to be safe, and free. I'm going to monitor the situation down here,” he said, sounding like a cop, “and then we'll figure out what he should do next.”

“OK. When will he get here?”

Peter paused. “Should be there around midnight.”

I laughed. “Lots of notice there Peter.” I stopped him from freaking out. “I'm kidding, it's fine. We've got lots of room, and short notice is just fine. Remember that yourself, OK?”

He laughed. “I will. And thanks JP.”

It was midnight and we all lounged around in the television room, the room Isidore had created with soft comfortable couches and the biggest TV we could find. We adults had spent the evening in here, waiting for the results from the California Democratic Primary. Bobby Kennedy won, and had just finished his speech to his supporters. He wasn't as handsome as his brother, but he was still pretty cute. Not that that mattered. He embodied support for the two causes I held the most dear: stopping this fucking war and advancing civil rights.

We were all pretty euphoric after the speech. I stayed up, waiting for Deke, and the rest of the family, except the kids, stayed up to keep me company. At least that's what they said. Stefan and Sam were both waiting to meet this guy with the monster cock. Sam out of curiosity, Stefan hoping he'd get to try it on for size.

Suddenly the all too familiar beeping alert went across the screen. That always meant bad news. It had been working overtime this year. An announcer broke in to tell us to stand by for a special news alert. The mood in our room had changed magically into apprehension. “We interrupt this broadcast to take you live to the Ambassador Hotel in Los Angeles where Senator Robert Kennedy has just been shot.” Holy shit, another blow to America's Royal Family. They'd shot Bobby Kennedy. Now we were all glued to the TV.

The announcers rambled on, saying the same thing over and over again. I sat next to Isidore with my arm around her shoulders, crying as hard as she was. Just yesterday Bobby Kennedy had given a speech decrying the war and promising to end it. He had the star power to beat Humphrey, McCarthy did not. I had been euphoric when I heard that he opposed the war. There was hope now. Hope that he'd get elected, hope that he'd pull out our troops, hope that the killing would stop, and hope that violence on campuses and in the cities would abate. It wasn't just that Robert Kennedy had been shot; it was like hope had also been wounded. We just sat by the television, willing him to live and to keep hope alive with him.

We sat there dumbfounded, the tears all gone, replaced by sadness. Stefan, who had grown to love his adopted country and now shared most of my viewpoints, understood the tragedy as well as the rest of us. Sam who had brought happiness to my life, the likes of which I'd never known; I never questioned his love, his loyalty, or whether he'd be there for me. To do so would have been unthinkable. I got up to pee, and when I came back he ended up in between me and Isidore. That was the other great thing. Isidore had been on Jeff's roller coaster ride along with me, and I had selfishly failed to notice that it had taken its toll on her too. But now, with Sam, she felt the same security I did, and it had restored her balance as well. “You are loved,” I said to Sam, looking up at him fondly.

“Yes you are,” said Isidore. A huge grin spread across his face. He was happy too.

Betty came in and interrupted our little vignette. “You sure are popular today JP. There's someone at the gate says he's a friend and you know he's coming. Says his name is Deke.” Oh shit. I forgot all about him.

“Betty, please buzz him through OK?” Stefan leered at me.

“So we'll get to see if this Swedish Axe is as big as you said, eh?” Sam joked.

A very tired Deke came strolling into the Great Hall. I went up and gave him a warm hug. “Welcome Deke. You are among friends here.”

“This is Sam, my, uh, boyfriend. And this is Stefan, my cousin. And this is Isidore, my wife.” That took Deke back a bit, but everyone greeted him warmly. Rafael was there, ready to be helpful. He was such a great guy, although with the addition of the horses I was working him too hard. I needed to get him some help.

“Rafael, will you park Deke's car in the garage please.” I asked in Spanish. He nodded and took the keys from Deke. “I figured that since you're kind of hiding out, we'll keep your car out of sight. You'll have to drive one of ours if you go out.” Isidore showed him to his room with Stefan in tow. I giggled. The rest of us waited for news. Bobby Kennedy had gone into surgery. He was in critical condition. And we waited. They came back, and Deke joined our vigil at the television. Betty, amazing as ever, sensed that we'd be hungry and brought us some sandwiches and snacks. Deke must have been starving; He sure had an appetite. Betty smiled at him as he wolfed down her cooking and complimented her in between bites. I'd never seen her warm up to someone so fast.

Bobby Kennedy was still in surgery. I was too wound up to go to bed, even though I'd been up all night. I suddenly had a desire to go swimming, and that seemed to appeal to everyone, or at least to us guys. Of course we swam nude. The water was so refreshing, probably more so for Deke who had been driving all day. Stefan flirted and played around like an idiot, keeping us all laughing. He finally teased Deke enough that he got him hard. Stefan reached down to grab him and his eyes got wide.

“I told you,” I said. Deke just smiled.

“OK Deke, show us this monster I've been hearing about,” Sam said, raising himself out of the water showing off his own good sized organ. Deke followed suit and Sam stood there speechless. Finally, he looked at me. “You took that thing? Damn.” We all laughed.

“I did. I'm not sure if Stefan can though,” I said, taunting him.

“Let's find out,” he said, batting his eyes at Deke. “That is, if you don't mind.” Stefan got out of the pool and moved seductively like only he can. If Deke wasn’t hard already, he quickly would have been.

We dried off and Stefan led Deke to his room. I followed. “I've got to see this,” I said, dragging Sam along with me. Stefan tossed off his towel as soon as we were in the room, got out the Vaseline, and tossed it to Deke. Then he got down on all fours.

I winked at Sam and got down on all fours so I was face to face with Stefan. I kissed him warmly, then passionately as I felt Sam lubing up my hole. Stefan broke off the kiss, presumably when Deke started to enter him, and we just looked at each other, eye to eye. It was the coolest thing to watch Stefan's expression change, to see the emotions flow from his eyes, as Deke carefully primed him with his fingers, and then slowly entered him. Sam timed his entry at the same time.

Stefan and I locked our eyes. The connection between us was almost supernatural. We were being fucked by these two other guys, but the meld was between us. It was incredibly erotic and intimate. It was something that I could have only pulled off with either Stefan or Sam. We kept our lock as Sam and Deke picked up the pace. Stefan was going nuts. I could read his mind, and I remembered how good Deke had felt once I had gotten used to him. We were oblivious to the others, it was just us. Stefan's body was starting to boil, and we watched each other as our orgasms built up. And then we came. Exactly together. I moaned, screamed in his face and he did the same to me. After what seemed like eternal orgasms, Stefan and I collapsed on his bed like two exhausted cross country runners, oblivious to the fact that our partners hadn't cum yet. They didn't care. They moved up to us and stroked their cocks in unison, blasting their loads all over us. It was messy, and fun.

“I need a shower,” I said. I took Sam's hand and led him down to my room.

“That was a blast,” he said to me with a grin. “I like that guy. I still can't believe you guys can take that thing.” I giggled.

“I can take it, but it isn't easy. You're easy, because you feel so right.” That got me another smile, a nice kiss, and a great shower.

The next day we stayed close to the television, waiting for word into the evening. He remained in critical condition. We'd fallen asleep in the television room. I was awakened by the dreaded beeping again so I woke everyone else up to listen. I didn't hear the announcers' prelude. I only heard a brief sentence. “Senator Robert Kennedy had died in surgery.” He's dead. Bobby's dead. I cried again, bitter tears this time. Bobby was dead. And so was hope. This war would go on. More would die. For nothing.

We finally cried as much as we could. We hit that point where sadness eclipses the immediate pain, and we just stared at the television, with nothing new to report except statements from important people.

June 20, 1968

I don't think Deke ever slept in the room that Isidore prepared for him. Stefan had latched onto him and that was that. Not that Deke minded. The two of them were such a cute couple. I hadn't heard anything from Peter, but it didn't really matter. Stefan dragged Deke all over the place with him while he was looking at land or properties. He'd already bought an existing building near San Francisco Airport, and had begun construction on his Sunnyvale project. Isidore was coordinating construction, her first big project, and Crampton's first in the Bay Area. That kept them all busy.

Sam and I were simply lazy. We played with the kids, lounged around, and exercised in our own different ways. Sam spent his time in the gym we'd put in, often with Deke. Stefan didn't exercise much, claiming that he got all he needed in bed. I stuck to riding the horses, sometimes with Isidore, but mostly by myself.

When the weather was nice, I liked to take a break before lunch and go for a ride. I named my stallion “Chevron”, not after the oil company, but after the marks on his neck that looked like a corporal's stripes. Chevron loved to run, so we tore all over Escorial, and sometimes further afield than that. I'd discovered ways to get to some of the public lands around us, and I even found a route to campus, but that wasn't something I did often. Today, I just stayed on the property, heading out to grab a few buds from my pot plants.

When I got there, I found a young guy with long hair carefully pruning the plants. I rode up to him, keeping my hand near my rifle just in case.

“Excuse me,” I said. “Just what are you doing?”

He looked at me, surprised, scared, and then defiant. “I'm taking care of my plants.” He was kind of cute, shit, he was really cute, long light brown hair, a lanky body, big side burns that looked stupid on him, and a long goofy face.

“Your plants? I'd say they're my plants. They're on my land.” He looked taken aback.

“Yeah, well I planted them.” He knew he was on shaky ground here.

“What's your name?” I asked.

“Mike,” he said, not really wanting to tell me that.

“OK Mike, I'm JP. So here's the deal. These plants are on my land, which makes them my plants. And don't start giving me any of that hippie shit about how everyone has access to all the land and that's how Mother Nature intended it.” I jumped down from my horse and extended my hand, which he took. He was taller than me, and really skinny. “You live around here?” I asked. He shook his head. The wind shifted and his body odor drifted toward me. God he stank. “You live anywhere?” He got a sad look on his face and shook his head.

I studied him more closely. He looked like a scarecrow. “How old are you?” I realized I was pelting him with questions, but he was trespassing after all. I kind of had a right to grill him. “And don't lie either.” I'd pegged him at 16.

“Just turned 18 last month. And just cause you found me here doesn't give you the right to give me the third degree.” He was being defiant because he was scared.

“Well, you can answer my questions, and I'll leave you in peace. Or you can refuse to, and I'll call the cops.” I wasn't going to call the cops, but he didn't know that.

“Fine. What else do you want to know? How big my dick is?”

“Yeah.”

“Six inches.” I started laughing and he did too.

“When's the last time you ate?” I asked him.

“Been awhile.” I hopped up onto Chevron and he looked at me, wondering why I'd ask him questions like that and just ride off.

I held out my hand. “Hop up.” He looked at me dubiously. Chevron would probably feel the same way. But he grabbed my hand, put his foot in the stirrup, and I helped him swing up behind me. God he reeked.

“Hold on,” I said, and he wrapped his hands around me while I took off for the house. I could tell he was nervous, especially when Chevron hit his full canter, but I was having fun. We got to the house and I handed Chevron off to Rafael. Rafael frowned at Mike.

“You catch him on our property again?” he asked. Guess this wasn't the first time he'd been busted on my land.

“It's OK Rafael. He'll be OK.” Rafael gave him a look of scorn. Trespassers were technically his problem, since he was responsible for the yard.

“First thing you need is a shower,” I said. “You reek.”

He grinned sheepishly. “Sorry about that.”

I led him to the guest room Deke wasn't using and showed him where the shower was. He looked at me funny, kind of like he expected me to try and shower with him. I just stood there, arms folded, while he stripped in front of me. He was all skin and bones. I'd say he was bordering on malnutrition. He had very little hair on his body, just his pits and pubes, which made me wonder if he was 18. “You checking me out?” he asked.

He was trying to freak me out. Not going to happen, not since Sam replaced Jeff. “No, I'm waiting for you to finish stripping so I can see what size your clothes are and find you something to wear asshole. Then we can consign these,” I said, holding up his old clothes, “to the trash.”

I took his clothes to my room. Lucky for him he was about my size, just thinner. I pulled out some of my smaller pants and put a belt with them, and then I grabbed a few shirts and some underwear. He'd just have to deal with wearing some of mine until I could take him shopping. I smiled to myself. Here we go again. Another guy, another shopping spree.

I emptied his pockets. He had a pocket knife, some weed, $1 in change and a wallet. His wallet was empty except for a driver’s license. Michael Evan Harley from San Jose, California. Looks like he lived on the East Side, probably near the barrios. He was 18, just like he said. Had turned 18 in May.

I took his stuff plus the clothes I'd gotten for him to the shower. He was still in there, enjoying the water. He was beating off when I first came in which made me laugh, and made him die of embarrassment.

“Don't you knock?” he asked rudely.

“Not in my own house. Looks like you told the truth about your age,” I said, “although you might have underestimated your dick.” I stared at his hard cock and he blushed. I laughed, and left him alone.

He came out about 15 minutes later, looking good in my hand-me-downs, even if the pants were too short, and smelling much better. Betty gave him a dirty look, but made him some food anyway. He started eating, and I thought he'd never stop. This kid was literally starving. Sam came in and Mike's eyes bulged at the sight of him. Sam was scary if you didn't know him.

“Sam, this is Mike,” I said, introducing them. Sam shook his hand and smiled, and Mike relaxed a bit. “I found Mike wandering around on our land, pruning back the pot plants. He was just about to tell me his story.”

“What story?” Mike said disingenuously.

“You show up on my property, just turned 18, starving to death, pruning pot plants, and reeking cause you haven't taken a shower in weeks. The story is, what got you to that point?” Sam nodded in support.

“Got kicked out of my house last month. Stepfather doesn't like me. He and my mom got into a fight, he smacked her, I smacked him, and next thing I know I'm out on my ass with nothing. So I came up here to check on my plants. I planted them last year when I was up here. Figured maybe I could harvest some of the buds and sell them. Get some cash for food at least.”

“You graduate from high school?”

“Nope. Honestly, I'm not all that smart. I mean with books and stuff like that. I like working with my hands. I like gardening. I don't do too well with people, but plants seem to like me.”

“Want a job?” I asked. Both Mike and Sam looked at me in shock.

“Doing what?” he asked suspiciously.

“We need someone to help with the yard, the gardens. You need a place to stay, food, and some cash. What do you think?” He nodded and we shook hands. I left him with Sam while I went out to talk to Rafael.

Rafael wasn't very happy about it. He didn't like Mike; he didn't like trespassers. But I told him what I knew and he softened up a bit. He even told me that Anna would get the other apartment above the garage fixed up for him.

Our family had grown again.

July 4, 1968

Sam, Isidore, Stefan and I wandered around the Claremont Commons, mingling with the general populace as we always did. It had been a miserable trip so far. First of all, there was Bradley. He did not want to even see his brother and sister, and it was all Tonto could do to get him to talk to her. She was devastated. I made her promise to come out and see him without the other kids. I told her he'd be better in that environment.

Then there was the fact that it was getting so I didn't know that many people anymore. New people moved in, old people left, and since I wasn't around, I didn't know the new ones. And finally, there was an underlying air of tension, reflected in the general mood. With the beer, I knew there were going to be fights. Worst of all, the racial tension was really bad. People were segregated amongst their own races, not out of habit, but out of militancy. I resolved that we'd make our appearance and then get out of there as fast as possible.

I didn't think the day could get any worse, but it did. We were just about to head back when I spotted Jeff about 50 yards away. Sam and Stefan were ready to go kill him, but I held them back. “Guys, let's just be really cool OK? We don't know what's going on yet. No yelling, no threats, no violence, got it?” They nodded. We headed over to him, where he was talking to some of his old high school friends.

“I see you made it back from Paris safe and sound,” I said. He turned around and got a big grin on his face. Not a 'happy to see you' grin, but an evil grin. His eyes were cloudy. He was using again.

“JP. How nice to see all of you. I was hoping I'd run into you. I need some money.” We all just stared at him, dumbfounded. Stefan and Sam were ready to go at him, but I held them back.

“You already stole a hundred grand from Stefan. What makes you think I'd give you more money?” None of them had ever seen me in my truly calm mode. Jeff had kept me too keyed up for that. It shocked them all.

“I'm thinking that there are some things that would be better kept a secret,” he said simply. I felt the dagger stab through my heart, but I wouldn't let him know that.

“There probably are. You threatening me?” I wanted him to say it.

“Yeah. I am. I want you to pay me twenty grand a year. Monthly. Sent here.” He gave me a slip with an address on it. It was in Claremont's East Side, in one of the grittier neighborhoods.

“Let me ask you something. If I do this, if I send you this money, will that make you happy? If that's what it will take to ease your pain and make you happy again, I'll do it.” He wasn't expecting this. I'd taken him in an entirely unexpected direction.

I could see the old Jeff in there. “Yeah JP. That will make me happy.”

I pulled out my wallet and handed him $500. “That should tide you over for awhile. I'll send you a check when I get home.” He took the money and nodded, and he looked sad.

Stefan and Sam glared at him, but I grabbed them and turned away, dragging them off. When we were out of earshot, they both let me have it.

Stefan went first. “Why did you not let me tell him what an asshole he was? Why would you not let me vent all my anger at him? Why?”

“Yeah and why wouldn't you let me kick his ass?” Sam said as we got into the Oldsmobile.

I looked straight at Stefan. “We have a reputation to uphold in this town. Our families do. You start making a scene at the Festival, showing the world that Jeff was your gay lover, and you'll make their lives difficult long after we go home.” He looked at me sullenly. These were the same kinds of unpleasant conversations we'd had when he first moved here, when I'd tried to explain to him that wealth and power came with responsibilities and boundaries. If he were to think it through to the beginning, he'd realize that his indiscretions some six years ago are what brought Jeff into our lives in the first place.

I turned to Sam. “For the same reason, I can't have you two fighting in the mud. You are part of my family now, and you have to respect them.”

Isidore had remained completely silent until now. “JP is right. He handled that perfectly. Now, I would like to go home. To California.” We caught a flight out the next day.

July 6, 1968

I never thought I'd have to do this again. I thought that when Jeff and I were together, that was it, and there wouldn't be anyone else to deal with. But that wasn't the hand life had dealt me. And now, I had to trust someone else with my deepest secrets. I was nervous about telling Sam. I'd thought I could trust Jeff completely. I thought that he'd take my secrets to the grave. Honor was so important to him before. Could the same thing happen to Sam? I had wracked my brain about that, wondering if he went on a drug binge like Jeff if he'd blackmail me too, but I decided that he wouldn't. I should have seen the signs with Jeff before, the instability in our relationship. There was nothing like that with Sam. He was part of me now.

I looked at him as he sat in bed reading. He was pissed at me. Really pissed. He had been since we'd run into Jeff. He thought I still had feelings for Jeff after all this time, and that those feelings precluded my total commitment to him. He was wrong, and I'd told him that. But he was also a scholar, and he was looking at the facts, and they disproved my assertions. So now I had to bare my soul again, this time to repair the most important relationship I'd ever had.

I sat in bed next to him with the old letter, some 32 years old to be exact, that my grandfather had left me. He looked at me, the glare barely buried below the surface. His shields were up now. He was barring me, keeping me out. “I want you to understand why I did what I did. With Jeff at the Festival, I mean.”

“JP, you still have feelings for him. It's obvious. How do I compete? How do I fight that?” I felt the roller coaster again, and it made me nauseous. I handed him the letter and went to the bathroom and puked out my guts. Jeff still managed to keep me on edge, even now that he was gone. He was still rocking my foundations.

A short while later Sam came in, a total emotional basket case. Jeff was taking him on the ride too. “I'm so sorry baby. I'm so sorry. I should have believed you. That guy makes me crazy. Will you forgive me? I promise I'll never doubt you again.” There were tears rolling down his cheeks. Sam didn't cry very often.

I hugged him. “It's OK Sam. It's OK. Jeff is just a poison, fucking with all of our emotions. The farther away from us he is, the better off we all are.”

“So he was threatening to tell your dad? That you weren't his real son? Your dad's a nice guy, a great guy. This would kill him.” Sam was amazed that Jeff would be so evil.

“That's the risk,” I said. “It's worth 20 grand a year to keep him quiet.”

“And when he wants more?” Sam asked.

“I don't know,” I said. I knew I was cornered. That's why they call it blackmail.

“JP, I have to go back to St. Louis for a few days. You mind if I get it out of the way?”

“You going to leave now?” I asked. He nodded. “You want me to go with you?”

“I want you to go with me, but that's probably not the best idea right now. My parents don't know about us. Hell, they don't know about me. Someday baby, someday I'll take you with me. I love you, I'm not ashamed of you, but I love my parents too. I need to break this to them over time, OK?”

“I understand.” I'd lived my life in the closet too, up until I was about Sam's age. Then when Andre died, I'd freaked out and told my parents we were lovers. Pretty dramatic, and traumatic. And that was in my calm WASPy household. God only knows what it would be like in an Italian family.

July 14, 1968

San Jose Municipal Airport. It wasn't much, but it was easy to get in and out of. If possible, I flew through here instead of San Francisco, and Sam followed my lead. So here I was, waiting for him, hoping that nothing had gone wrong in St. Louis to screw up our relationship. He refused to fly first class when he wasn't with me, so I had to wait and watch for him to get off the plane. When I saw him on the stairs descending to the tarmac, I noticed that he had flowers in his hand. He made his way through the gate and ran toward me, giving me a big hug, picking me up and spinning me. We got some looks for that, but I didn't care.

He handed me the flowers. “Happy Bastille Day,” he said. I smiled and we walked together to the baggage area.

“Thanks. That was really nice of you.” Bastille Day was a big event for my family. That he remembered was really touching.

We got his bags and headed up the 101. I couldn't wait until we could get home and be alone. I had missed him so much, and had been remarkably celibate, except for a romp or two with Stefan and Deke. But those two were a couple now, and I didn't want to impose. It was really cute the way they were together. Stefan seemed to have Deke totally whipped, but he was devoted to Deke in a way he'd never been with anyone.

We got home and said hello to everyone. The kids took more time because they just adored Sam. The other person they'd grown to like was Mike. He let them play in the yard, and roped off a mud and sand section for them. He even built them a little pond out back, and helped them plant seeds so they could see plants grow. They didn't even seem to notice that Jeff was gone.

Finally it was night time and everyone had gone to bed. Finally I was going to get to be alone with Sam. I was excited. But just when I thought we were finally free to be alone together, Betty stopped me and told me that I had a phone call.

“JP?” I heard my mother say.

“Hello mother. Good to hear from you.” I wanted to keep this conversation short, without being rude.

“I have some bad news. They found Jeff dead in his house yesterday. He died of a heroin overdose.”