Be Rad - 35. Chapter 35

October 18, 1980

Today was the day that I really missed Isidore. She was so good at organizing these parties. But Anna had worked with her enough that she picked up most of the slack. Yesterday had been a huge disappointment. The Royals came back and beat the Phillies in a nail biter that went into extra innings. I was hoping that the Phillies would clinch it today, but that wasn't going to happen. Still, I knew that wouldn't really deter anyone. Most of the people were coming over here to get fucked up and, if they were lucky, to get laid.

The game started in the afternoon so this would be a long party. We planned it as always, with someone keeping keys so no one would drive away hammered. It also meant extra food. The party started at noon, so that meant we'd need to have lunch and dinner, plus snacks along the way. Just in case there were any problems, I had a security guard inside too. I was being paranoid, and I felt like an idiot, but I was channeling JP, and he would be prepared.

I hung around in the Great Hall to greet people when they came in. I felt kind of like a medieval king taking oaths of loyalty from everyone. To come into the party, they had to say “hi” to me, to acknowledge me as their host, and implicitly as their friend. It would be the ultimate in bad taste to be nice to me at a party at my house on Saturday, and then be a dick on Monday, and this was Palo Alto after all.

First to get there were the die-hard jocks. Probably half the football team and almost all of the baseball team, not to mention the others, like soccer players. They were all real nice when they got there; but then, they really hadn't been the biggest dicks. I took a break and walked in to check on the game. It was pretty shitty. Kansas City took a four to nothing lead in the first inning. I heard Robbie joking with some of his old teammates.

“So were you like checking me out in the showers?” Braintree asked, kind of joking, kind of not. I noticed the other guys paying sudden attention to the conversation. That was what really freaked them out.

“Not you,” Robbie joked. “Ashburton,” he said, gesturing to a big hulking linebacker with dark brown hair. “He's got the smallest dick I've ever seen.”

“Fuck you,” said Ashburton, pretending to be only mildly distracted from the game.

“You can stare at my body all you want,” said Gary Englin. He was a cute, blond fullback. “Join the club. Everyone appreciates a true work of art.” A couple of empty beer cans flew at his head.

It was in the fourth inning, with a score of five to one (Royals), looking to be pretty boring, when Dick Noles threw a brushback pitch that flew right under George Brett's chin. Everyone started freaking out, and the umpires jumped in to warn both teams. That pretty much distracted the jocks and pulled them back into the game.

It was ironic because the jocks watching TV had talked about the issue, joked about it, and moved on. Everyone else danced around, carefully avoiding any reference to the fact that it was common knowledge now that Robbie and I were gay. So I hung out in the Great Hall, drinking beer and talking to people who studiously avoided asking me the question they most wanted to ask: “Is it true you're a cocksucker?”

The game wound up around 5pm with another Kansas City victory, 5-3. After that, pretty much everyone headed down to the pool. Claire and Jack had been hanging out down there. We had a barbecue scheduled for 7pm, and I felt comfortable enough at that point to leave the door and go down and enjoy myself.

Everything was going really well until around 9pm. The security guard buzzed me to tell me that Billy was at the gate with three of his friends. One of the guys was Dennis McCartney. The other two had been assholes, guys I'd specifically NOT invited. I told the guard that Billy was welcome, but the other guys were not, but to hold on and we'd be up.

“Hey Ace, we got a problem,” I said, pulling him out of a deep kiss with Cass. I motioned Claire to come over to us.

“What?” he asked, irritated. She just looked at me, waiting.

“Billy's here with three asshole friends. I told the guy at the gate that he could let Billy in, but the other guys weren't welcome, but one of us would be up in a second.” He nodded. “You want to go talk to him?”

He sighed. “Not really, but I will.” He threw on some sweat pants and a T-shirt and headed up to talk to them. “I'll go too,” Claire said.

“What's his deal?” Jack said, watching Claire go off with Ace. He just could not keep his eyes off of her. It was pretty cute. I wasn't much better with Robbie. I'd been peeking in on him all day. I smiled to myself as I watched him happily thrash around in the pool with a bunch of other people. The roughest thing about all of this shit was seeing the impact on him. He wasn't as willing to say “fuck the world,” as I was, and he wasn't as much of a dick as I was. If anything fueled my hatred of Billy, it's what he did to Robbie. Not only did he push him into this hell of being outed, he pushed him off the football team, and Robbie loved football.

“He wants to prove that he still has the right to be here, and he wants to cause trouble,” I told Jack. “He does have the right to be here, but not his friends. It's part of the deal. None of us invites people over that the others have a problem with. Which makes me wonder how you ended up here in the first place?” I concluded, teasing him.

“Because you have a weakness for smoking hot guys,” he countered, winking at me. He was too funny.

Ace and Claire came back looking really upset. “What happened?” I asked.

“They were fucking drunk,” said Ace. “Fucking assholes.”

“They were giving the poor security guard such a bad time,” added Claire. “Then Ace and I came up and they started making really, uh, unpleasant remarks about me. Billy didn't say anything.” I put a hand on Jack's shoulder to calm him. “I always thought I could count on him to stick up for me.” She just shook her head sadly.

“I got pissed and moved up to the car. I was gonna kick his fucking ass,” said Ace, furious. “They just laughed and peeled out. Almost hit the guard. We gotta tip that guy big time.”

“And they were drunk?” I asked. Claire said “yes,” with a sad look on her face. I threw on a shirt and headed up to the study.

“Dad, Billy tried to show up to the party,” I told him.

“And did you invite him in?” He asked, pissed off. “This is still his house, Brad.”

“He had three assholes with him. One of them was that Dennis McCartney guy, the one that I told you and Gordie about.” He looked at me, waiting. “I told the security guard that if Billy wanted to come in he was welcome, but not the other guys. Ace and Claire went up to see them and explain it to him.”

“What happened then?”

“They made some really rude remarks to Claire and Ace got pissed so they drove away.” He looked at me, surprised. Not that Ace got pissed, but that Billy's friends would be rude to Claire and think that they could get away with it. “Ace thinks they were drunk.”

“Thanks Brad. I wish you would have told me, but I don't know that there's anything I could have done anyway.” I left, feeling sad about the whole situation. It was so much easier to hate someone who wasn't a member of your family. And I knew the guys he was with. They were scumballs, and bad news.

I went back down and tried to enjoy the party, but Billy showing up put a damper on everything. I was tired, tired of being on display as a newly minted fag, tired of fighting with Billy, tired of fighting the world. Yes, the party was a success, and yes, I'd forced people to basically decide to be my friend or not, but it was still overshadowed by this open wound between Billy and me.

Robbie met me when I got down there and pulled me into one of the dressing rooms. His lips were on mine, his body against mine, I was in his arms, but I was still in a bad mood, and certainly not in the mood to fuck around. He reached over and flipped the door lock. “I want you,” he whispered in my ear.

“We've got a whole party going on, a bunch of people who are here so they can see that our being gay is no big deal. We can't fuck around now,” I told him earnestly. I felt his hand on my hardening dick.

“I want you, right here, right now,” he said in his husky voice. I felt my resistance fading.

“Robbie, come on, things are going so well,” I whined.

His hand was down my pants now. “Right here, right now. I want you.” I caved, as I knew I would, and being as careful as I could to be quiet, I made love to him. It was awesome, really nice, and after we started, I found that the danger, the danger of being caught by everyone, made it even more exciting.

When we were done, we came out together, and aside from a few looks taking us in as a couple, no one really seemed to notice. Everything was working perfectly. And I was in a much better mood.

Around 2am the party faded. Some people went home if they could convince Rafael they were sober. Most of those people had gotten really fucked up in the afternoon, passed out, and woke up pretty sober. The rest, those without someone sober to drive them, passed out in the guest rooms, on chaise lounges by the pool, or a couch in the Great Hall.

Robbie and I headed back to our room. He was horny again so I blew him, but I was just exhausted. I was also stone cold sober, while he was a little tipsy. That may have had something to do with it. It seemed like I'd just fallen asleep when there was a loud knock on my door.

“Who is it?” I demanded rudely.

“It's your father,” I heard JP say. What now? Did some asshole fuck something up? I got up and let him in. One look at his face told me that this was no mere broken stair rail. I guided him in and sat him on the bed.

“What's wrong Dad?” He broke down crying, sobbing. JP was crying and sobbing? I was flabbergasted. I'd never seen him like this. He couldn't talk. I put my arms around him, holding him tight. All of this had finally woken a less drunk Robbie up. He looked at me, his eyes asking me what was wrong, but I just shrugged.

“Dad, tell me, what's wrong?” I asked again.

“Billy is dead.”

I stared at him, the words not really impacting my emotions. It was as if my brain threw a circuit breaker that prevented the true meaning from getting through and only letting the news register.

“What happened? How did you find out?”

“The police just came by and talked to me.” He seemed distracted. “Is Roger here? Where's Roger?” He was so emotional, he was grasping at straws. I threw on my boxers and a t-shirt and walked back with him to his room.

Roger was on the bed on his stomach, nude, with a sheet coming up to just below his ass. I took a second, even then, to admire his awesome form. I had to, it was unavoidable. He woke up and turned to see the two of us. JP rushed to him and collapsed into his arms. Roger looked at me, almost pissed, wondering what I'd done, until he seemed to realize this was far beyond something I could have done.

“The police were just here and told Dad that Billy was killed. Dad, tell me what they said,” I demanded. Roger held him and stroked his back while he tried to talk. His story came out in staggered spurts, marked by periods where he broke down sobbing.

“There was an accident. They were on La Honda Road heading over the mountains. I don't know where they were going, but they were headed toward the coast. It seems that they drifted into the oncoming lane and a truck hit them. Billy was in the back seat but on the side that the truck ended up crashing into. The driver and the guy behind him are alive and in critical condition. Billy and Dennis McCartney are both dead.”

I digested this information, trying to figure out what was going on with them. They could have been heading to the beach house. Taking La Honda Road was windier than going over Highway 17, and it took longer, but it was the most direct way to go. The way someone who didn't really know where our house was would go.

“Did they notify Mom?” I asked. He shook his head. Robbie came peeking in, dressed better than I was.

“Go wake up Ace and Claire, Jack too, and bring them to the study,” I told him. He nodded and went off to get them. “Mouse too,” I yelled, almost forgetting him. Robbie grunted, telling me that he'd heard me. “You have to call Mom,” I told JP. He just cried, put his head in Roger's chest.

“Can't you do that?” Roger asked me.

“No. He has to do it. He knows he does.” Looking to JP, I directed succinctly, “Dad, call Mom.” He turned around and looked at me and came back to us. He nodded and I headed off to his study.

“What's wrong?” Claire asked as soon as I walked into the room. Ace and Jack were still groggy, but not Mouse. He was wide awake. He must be pretty intuitive.

“Billy was in a car accident a couple of hours ago. He’s...dead.” I told them, calmly.

Ace was awake in a flash, and Mouse's eyes bulged.

“No. Dead? What do you mean dead?” Ace asked, pretty much yelling at me.

“He was in a car with those guys and they hit a truck on La Honda Road.” Jack nodded, more to the thought that it would be easy to get in an accident there. Claire hugged him tightly, crying now as the horror dawned on her. This would be the hardest of all on her, her twin being killed, and after she'd had a really unpleasant encounter with him.

“This is all our fault,” Ace said. “We should have invited them to stay here, invited them in.”

I got pissed at him, really pissed. “We don't need you running around here throwing guilt at every one. You went to see them; they didn't even listen to you. They just made a bunch of rude comments to Claire and tore off.” The anger in my words hit him hard. I felt bad and walked up to him and hugged him. He fought me, actually punched my chest which fucking hurt. Ace has a wicked punch. “We've got enough to deal with without trying to make ourselves guilty, OK? There wasn't anything you could have done.” He let me hug him, crying softly. I saw Mouse sitting there, looking stunned, shocked, like the rest of us, only seeing it in him was scarier. Robbie moved in to try and comfort him.

I knew that at times like this, their reaction, tears and sadness, was natural, but I didn't feel them. I felt nothing. I felt numb, keyed up. I felt like I had to take care of everything and everyone. And all of this crying and sobbing just pissed me off. I broke away from Ace and headed in to hear my father on the phone with my mother. He saw me come in and mumbled a few things into the phone. “Brad, would you talk to your mother,” he asked.

I nodded. There were other things that I'd rather do right then, like walk on a bed of hot coals or French-kiss a rattlesnake, but I picked up the phone anyway. “Mother?”

“Bradley,” she said in between sobs. “Is it true? Is my Billy dead?”

“Dad talked to the police, and that's what they told him.”

“Your father said he came by, tried to go to your party,” she asked. She had already shown me where we stood in her eyes; all of the rest of us were a notch below Billy in priorities, so I was cautious about how I presented the encounter. I explained what happened with Ace, Claire, and the guard.

“Why did you not let him in? It is his house too!” she shrieked.

“That's what Ace was trying to do Mother, but they just laughed at him and peeled out. He wasn't here to come to the party; he was here to cause trouble.”

“And how do you know that?” she demanded.

“Because the guys that he brought with him were all guys that were harassing me in school. One of them even got suspended for it.” She said nothing, thinking.

“You could have done more. It is your fault that Billy is dead. He came to you, and you rejected him.”

That pissed me off. “No, Mother, he came to us, we tried to let him in, but he was just here to make a scene, not see us. If anyone is to blame it is you.”

“Me? I'm the only one who loved him.”

“Yes, you loved him to death. You let him get away with being a total asshole, you coddled him, and you encouraged him. And by the way Mother, everyone else here is pretty torn up about this. They're trying to get through this the best they can, without you around. I'll let them know that you remembered to ask how they were doing,” I said. The words were mean and vicious, and I regretted them as soon as they came out of my mouth. There was silence on both sides. Silence for a long time.

I tried to make amends. “I'm sorry, Mother. This isn't your fault and it isn't my fault. Billy made a bad decision, and paid for it with his life. I'm sorry.” I heard the phone click as she hung up. I turned to find that I was all alone in JP's room. They must have gone to the study to be with the others. I felt alone, all alone, and I found that I was quite happy with that.

There was one more call to make tonight. I picked up the phone and dialed Stef. It rang six times and then the machine picked it up. I hung up and called again, this time it rang four times before the machine answered. I hung up and called again, only to hear a very pissed off Greg answer: “WHAT!?”

“Greg, it's Brad, I need to talk to Stef, and yes I know it's four in the morning.” I heard grumbling and bitching as he nudged Stef and Stef grabbed the phone. “Hello,” I heard his groggy voice say.

“Stef, it's Brad. There's been an accident,” I said. I waited until I had his attention.

“An accident? What happened? Is everyone OK?” He was awake now.

“Billy was killed in a car accident,” I said.

“Oh no. Oh no...” I heard the phone drop. I heard Stef crying in the background, and Greg asking him what it was.

Then I heard Greg on the line. “What happened?” I told him. “We'll be there in a few hours.” The phone went dead, and I was alone again.

October 19, 1980

The morning had been sheer chaos, with everyone a fucking mess and in tears, and then our hung over guests waking up to find a house occupied by hosts who had been pleasant one minute, and then grieving idiots the next. Still, somehow that had made things better. They all knew Billy and they needed to grieve too. My mother arrived shortly after I hung up with Stefan and just made things more uncomfortable. She finally retired to what was her old room, and reappeared around 9am, composed and refined.

She spent a lot of time with the kids who were still here, listening to their stories about Billy, and comforting them as warmly as she could. It was as if she was using her gracious demeanor to suppress her own grief. She held herself aloof from the rest of us, especially me, and we returned the favor, shutting her out and turning instead to each other for support.

At 10am Stef, Greg, and Tonto arrived. Stef was a mess, dramatic and maudlin; he could have been giving a performance on Broadway. Greg was severe and sad, and Tonto was only slightly more in control than Stef. She had shelved her grumpy old lady act and had put on the grieving aunt persona. I was so sick of them, of all of them, I couldn't stand it anymore.

I wanted to go for a drive but my car was in the body shop. I borrowed Robbie's Jeep and headed out, up to La Honda Road, up to where the police had told us the accident had happened. It was a blind curve. According to the officer I talked to, the car Billy was in had drifted across the other lane and the truck driver that hit them didn't even have time to react as he came around the corner the other way. He had smashed into their car on its right front fender, pivoting it so he slammed into the right side of the car, ultimately smashing it into the side of the mountain. There was no wreckage there, only broken glass and the odd piece of metal on the side of the road. I picked up a couple of pieces, and swept up some of the glass, then went home.

“Where were you?” Stef exclaimed when I came in, carrying my bag of gruesome souvenirs.

“I went for a drive. I had to get away from this for a little bit.”

He put his arm on my shoulder. “It is hard for everyone. It is hardest for you; you just do not know it yet.”

“What does that mean?”

“You are holding yourself together, refusing to grieve, but someday you must. Or you will implode. And then you will feel bad for the fighting that you two were doing, and that you thought you hated him.”

“I did hate him. He ruined my life, he ruined Robbie's life. My problem, Stef, is that I don't feel bad that he's gone. And that makes me feel like a monster.”

“It will take time for you to sort through your emotions, time to understand that you did not really hate him, and then, when that happens, you must remember that he did not really hate you. Time would have healed that wound, but you just did not get enough of it.” He hugged me warmly.

He may be right, but at this moment in time he was not. I went back to my room and took a really long shower, really forcing myself to relax and breathe in the steam. Then I did my morning routine, even though it wasn't morning anymore, put on some 501s and an Izod, and returned to the world of the crazed.

Really nothing had changed. They had split into two groups. The zombies, who didn't know what to do, and the nutcases who spent their time crying and shrieking. Ace formed his own little group, blaming everyone and himself for what happened. I avoided him carefully. I saw Claire and Jack off in the corner and I went over to see them. Jack was like me, having a hard time being really sad, but still comforting Claire.

“You're doing really well,” I told her with genuine love and affection.

“Thanks Brad. You worked so quickly and got all of these people here. It is so great to have Tonto back.”

“And Mother,” I said with irritation.

“She will need us very soon. We will have to decide whether to be there for her.” I just stared at her, really amazed. I thought I was the only one who had issues with our mother. “You are not the only one she left high and dry. When she left, she told me that I didn't need her because I was spending all of my time with Jack. I can't believe this has happened, all of this.”

“I'd spend all of my time with Jack if he was my boyfriend,” I joked, putting my arm around Jack. I was trying to break the mood, and was only marginally successful.

“I can't believe that with all the shit that's happened to me he's still with me,” she said sadly, begging him to reassure her.

“It's like being an extra in a soap opera, plus I get laid.” She looked up at him. “All the time,” he added, and cracked me up. We got dirty looks from all of the mourners, especially Ace. He headed over to us. “Uh oh,” Jack said.

“What's so funny?” he demanded.

“Claire was just amazed that Jack is still with her after all the dysfunctional crap that’s happened,” I told him. “It seemed a little funny. This somber mood is unhealthy.”

“Fuck Brad, people are mourning,” he said earnestly.

“Then let them mourn. I've got things to do.” I turned and walked away and tracked down my father. He was with Stefan. “There are a lot of people here. Do you want me to clear them out, or leave them alone?”

He looked out at the group and just shook his head. There were about 20 people still here, not counting family. “Let them stay. Let them grieve here with us.”

“Do you need me to do anything Dad?” I had already arranged for Billy's body to be taken to a nearby mortuary, but the rest of the arrangements he and Mother would have to handle.

“No, you've been a great help. If you want to get out of here, feel free.” That was really nice of him.

“Thanks Dad. I'm really having a hard time with this.” I looked at Stef, warning him not to tell him that the hard time was because I wasn't sad. “I'll be up in the studio if you need me.”

I told Robbie where I was going but he decided to stay downstairs with the basket cases. I think that he was more forgiving of Billy than I was, and I think that he enjoyed being around our friends, some of whom wouldn't even speak to him two days ago.

I climbed the stairs and felt myself putting the distance between me and the group. It felt so good, so liberating. All I wanted was peace and solitude. I got to the studio, opened the door and walked in, feeling relieved to be there. Only I wasn't alone. There, over at his table, was Mouse.

“Hey,” I said.

“Hey,” he said, no more enthusiastically than I did. I looked into his pale green eyes, trying to read his pain, trying to understand what he was feeling, but I couldn't. He had that blank look on his face. I walked over to his table and he had a clay knife out, and was looking at it. He was going to cut himself with it. To punish himself.

Something hit me, something more powerful than I could control, something that took me over completely. I was filled with rage, anger, hate, evil. I felt myself boiling, as if my blood was on fire. I slapped the knife out of Mouse's hand and pulled him up, close to my face. I read his eyes now. He wanted someone to fuck him hard, and I wanted to be the one.

I took his shirt, a collar point in each hand, and tore it down the front and ripped it off of him. I pulled the buttons on his 501s so hard the eyes tore. I ripped them off of him and pulled off his boxers and slapped his ass hard. I felt my cock throbbing. I smacked him again, and again. He moaned, he was as hard as a rock.

I lined my dick up with his ass and grabbed some clay as primitive lube. I slammed into him, savoring the feel of his sweet little ass as I drove into him, savoring the cry of joy and pain that he emitted. I grabbed clay and pulled him to me, while I drove into his ass. I took the clay, dirty nasty clay, and rubbed it all over his body, squeezing his nipples hard, really hard, making him yelp. I bit his neck, hard, hard enough to leave a mark, and then pulled out of him and pushed him onto his back. I mounted him again and drove into him, relishing the look on his face, the look of desire and lust, anger and hate, and I matched those looks. I pushed down on him and forced my mouth onto his. He fought me and it just turned me on even more. I drove into him with my dick while I penetrated his mouth with my tongue, forcing my way in, nibbling at his lips. I felt myself getting close to coming, so I grabbed his cock and stroked it twice, setting him over the edge with me.

We slammed violently into each other, trying to beat the demons out, as we groaned and growled into each other’s mouth. I came forever and so did he. When I was done, I looked down into his eyes, worried at first, then happy as I saw the look of love and the look of thanks in his eyes. I kissed him gently, lovingly, and he responded. He grabbed my hand and led me downstairs to his room to clean up. He locked the door and stripped off my clothes and pulled me into the shower. This time, I kissed him and we merged together, so completely it scared me, and I entered him again, only this time I made love to him. It was slow, and gentle, and meaningful.

Back upstairs, I felt cleansed, purged. Mouse had set me on fire, and I wondered if that fire was just a temporary flame-up, or a long term blaze. I put that out of my mind and pulled out the metal shards and the broken glass from Billy's wreck and set up a new canvas. I forced myself to forget about the Billy I'd known the last two months, the Billy that had caused me so much pain, and I remembered the Billy I'd grown up with, the younger brother I'd horsed around with as a kid. A single tear rolled down my cheek, and then I started to create my own memorial to Billy.