Be Rad - 39. Chapter 39

January 20, 1981

“I, Ronald Wilson Reagan, do solemnly swear...” I heard the television as I sorted through my mail. Inaugurations were pretty boring. Some people seemed pretty into it though. I guess if you were there, it might be fun. Stef and Greg had donated enough money, apparently, that they'd been invited to a few of the balls and got a good seat to watch the spectacle. I knew what Stef would say when he got back. He'd tell us all it was fucking cold. I watched as Reagan's breath left a cloud in the frigid air.

An event way more important than that was taking place a world away. Minutes after Reagan was sworn in, the American hostages in Iran were finally released. They'd been held for 444 days, so long that the crisis had become as ingrained as the Cold War. Now that they were being released, it seemed so, well, easy. Not that it was. Negotiations, a botched rescue attempt, all of those things seemed to be past frustrations as the plane carrying them lifted off and headed to Algiers.

I sighed, a happy sigh, a relieved sigh. Maybe this boded well for Reagan. Having these Americans, who had been held, tortured and abused for over 400 days, released right after he took the office made him seem powerful. Someone to be feared.

I snatched one of the letters from the pile of mail and opened it quickly. It was from The California Art Institute, CalArts, in Valencia. I had been pretty sure that they'd accept me, but here was confirmation. CalArts was only 50 miles away from Malibu, so I'd be close to Stef and Greg. But that wasn't the big issue. The big issue was Robbie. We had rebalanced our relationship and I was content with it now. I was good with him. But in September, we'd be off to college. The question was, would it be the same one?

“You get any news?” I asked him.

“Nothing yet. You?”

“CalArts will take me,” I said glumly. Robbie wasn't an artist; he was more of an engineer. Valencia would hold nothing for him.

“You can do better,” he said, forcing a smile.

“Better?”

He walked up to me and wrapped his arms around me. “Better. Somewhere together.” Our lips met and the connections between us, psychological, emotional, physical, seemed to fire up and link together like some electronic device in Star Wars.

“That means Stanford, Yale, or UCLA,” I said. “I know we'll both get into UCLA, but the other two, that could be tougher.”

“It helps that your dad is a senior faculty member,” he observed with a smile.

“It helps to a degree.” We both had great GPAs. My SATs were actually a little higher than his, but he had extracurricular activities, or activity, with football. And he was a good kicker, had even been scouted. “Stanford's a tougher go for us than other people because we live here. They like a diverse student body. You'd do better getting in there if you were in Ohio.”

“I wouldn't go back to Ohio right now for all the money in...for all of Stefan's money,” he joked, and kissed me again.

“You know, I think I'd rather watch this in our room. Naked.” He snaughed and we moved apart, rearranging our erections in our pants for the walk to his room.

We locked the door and stripped down quickly. If anything, his body was more beautiful than ever. He was growing into a man, as I was, but for him that meant broader shoulders, bigger muscles, and a light dusting of blond hair on his chest. He looked so masculine.

“What?” he asked, noticing my stare.

“Make love to me,” I said, more of a command than a request. And then he was on top of me, all of his weight, all of his strength, lubing his organ and my hole, and then he was in me. I pulled my legs up and wrapped them around him, urging him on as he moved in and out of me, kissing my lips, my neck, nuzzling my ear. It seemed like an eternity, a euphoric period that went on and on. We'd become so in tune to each other, we'd learned how to make it last and really enjoy it. But we were young, and there are limits. I felt his thrusts get more insistent, and then he sat up and really pounded me, slamming into my ass as he got close. I wrapped my hand around my dick and stroked myself carefully, timing my own orgasm to match his.

He collapsed onto me and squished my cum between our bodies. We lay there, panting, spent and content. Then the afterglow ended and what seemed so sexy before now seemed kind of gross and sticky, so we got up and headed to the shower. On the floor by the bathroom was a pair of briefs. Robbie didn't wear briefs and neither did I. Gary did. I ignored them, and saw him kick them away out of the corner of my eye. No matter how good I tried to be, I'd never be good enough to really satisfy him.

We were headed for dinner when I sensed something was missing. I reached for my back pocket and found my wallet was gone. Just two years ago, there would have been an afro comb in the other pocket, I thought with a smile. Times, and hairstyles, had changed. “I think I dropped my wallet. I'll be right there,” I said to Robbie and headed back to his room.

I looked all over the room and found it under his desk. Must have flown out when I'd tossed off my pants, I thought with a smile. Then I glanced on his desk and a letter caught my eye. I didn't like to snoop, but I couldn't help it. It was from Princeton. Robbie had been accepted to Princeton. I felt the bottom fall out of my world, but I pulled myself out of the free fall. I should be happy for him. Princeton was a great school, and this was quite an honor. A real compliment. The only thing that bothered me was that he'd never told me he was applying there. Worse, he didn't ask me to apply there either.

My first instinct was to run, to find a place to just be by myself and process this and what it meant. But running made me feel like such a coward. I walked into my own room and tried to breathe heavily, in and out. It wasn't working. I grabbed my car keys. A drive would clear my head, and I could grab some food while I was out. Just as I turned, I saw Claire standing in the doorway. She'd been crying. I looked down at her hand, and she wasn't wearing her ring. Shit.

I walked up to her and hugged her and she collapsed, crying, into my arms. “What happened?”

“That slut, Shelly Groves. She's been hitting on Jack, flirting, throwing herself at him. I walked into the prop room for theater and caught him kissing her.”

“What did he say?” I asked. Suddenly my problems seemed trivial compared to hers. Her pain was way more immediate than mine, or at least I thought it was. I forgot all about Robbie and Princeton and focused on her.

“He didn't say anything. I just turned and left.”

“Did he see you?”

“Yeah. He tried to catch me, but I'm pretty fast when I want to be,” she said, actually joking. “Bradley, what am I going to do? I love him so much. He's everything to me. And now he's with her.”

“You should at least give him a chance to explain,” I said.

“You're just sticking up for him because he's super handsome,” she said.

That pissed me off. I'd never ever been conflicted about my loyalties with my family. “That's not fair. When have I ever not been in your corner?”

“I'm sorry Brad. I'm just upset.”

“You are. And I'm right. You have to at least talk to him. Has he tried to call you?”

“He calls about every five minutes,” she said, smiling.

“Maybe you should answer.” I put my arm around her and walked to the dining room. We got to the Great Hall and there was Jack, waiting for her. His eyes were red, really red.

“Baby, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to kiss her. I really didn't. She came on to me and suddenly she was sucking my face. You have to believe me.” God, he was cute even when he was crying and begging. For effect, he fell to his knees.

I looked at Claire and saw her melt. “Will you look at that Brad? I seem to have forgotten my ring.” He got up and smiled, his heartbreaking, beaming smile, and kissed her.

“I'll tell Mom and Dad you weren't hungry,” I said, laughing. They laughed with me and ran back to her room for some make-up sex. They were so cute. They wanted to be together. It must be nice to be in a relationship like that.

Everyone was waiting for me. I was five minutes late. “Where's Claire?” Tonto demanded.

“She and Jack are, uh, reconciling,” I said.

“Humph. That boy is too pretty. That's the problem with dating pretty people. You always have to worry that they'll be lured away by other pretty people. Marry someone ugly, that's my motto.” Tonto was hilarious, and a liar. Barry was really handsome when they were married.

“I agree Tonto. That's my strategy,” I said, and got a playful smack from Robbie.

“So did you see the inauguration? And those poor hostages were finally let go. How wonderful. A pretty exciting day, no?” My mother was so serene, and her voice so smooth.

“And Brad got into CalArts,” Robbie said, smiling proudly. Or maybe he was just happy because that's somewhere that I'd go without him, and he'd be rid of me.

I controlled my temper and smiled back. “And Robbie got into Princeton.”

Robbie stared at me, aghast. “I didn't know that you even applied to Princeton,” JP said.

“Neither did I,” I said casually. And then I focused on eating and didn't even deign to glance at him.

He followed me to my room after dinner. “I was going to tell you,” he said sheepishly.

“When? When you were packing up to go there?” I looked at him, irritated. “You know what, just do what is best for you, I'll do what's best for me, and if we're meant to be together, then four years from now we'll hook up.”

“That's not what this is about,” he whined. I hated it when he whined.

“It's OK,” I lied. “It's OK. This is why I needed distance from you, so when shit like this happens, it doesn't rip me up.” I headed to the studio and he didn't follow me. He was learning to give me space when I was mad. I wish he'd learn how not to make me mad in the first place.

January 25, 1981

I grabbed the sheets with my hands as Gary Englin pounded away at me. He was really fun in a really dominant kind of way. I loved his force, his power, but only once in a while. Now was one of those times. He worked me hard, and I totally submitted to him, enjoying the sense of powerlessness, and, most of all, knowing how much this would piss Robbie off. He emitted a loud growl and exploded in me, and I pretended to cum with him. As usual, he was really sweet afterward. “Thanks Brad. You are just awesome.”

“No, you were the awesome one,” I said, completing the mutual ego stroke.

He blushed. “I better get going. The game's going to be on.” The game. Superbowl XV. “Go Raiders!” he said.

“The Raiders suck,” I told him. I hated the Oakland Raiders. You couldn't live in the Bay Area and be both a 49ers fan AND a Raiders fan. “Wanna make a wager?” I asked.

“What did you have in mind?” he asked.

“Oakland wins and you fuck me. Philly wins, and I get to fuck you.” I saw him hesitate. “Or are you a big pussy?”

He laughed. “Alright. Right after the game, right after the Raiders sweep those Philly fags off the field, I'm going to come back here and fuck the shit out of you.” He apparently didn't see the irony of calling the Eagles fags, while we were betting about who gets to fuck whom up the ass. We shook on it.

“Don't worry Gary, I'll be gentle,” I teased as we walked to the television room and our Superbowl party.

The party was a blast and I got fucked up. Completely fucked up. I drank like a fish, and then did a few lines of coke. Plus I got stoned. I was kind of excited at the thought that Gary might lose, but in the end, the fucking Oakland Raiders pulled it off. Gary was just as drunk as I was, so I stopped him on the way out.

“No way, señor” I slurred. “You are too fucked up to leave.”

“Look who's talking, señor,” he shot back with a smile.

“Sí. So I'm going to find you a room to crash in.” He followed me down the hall and I got an idea. I was inspired.

“Where are we going?” he asked as we passed my room. I led him to the studio and just as I thought, Mouse was there.

“Hey Mouse,” Gary said nervously. Then he loosened up. He was too drunk to be nervous. He just looked at me, confused.

“Hey Mouse,” I echoed. I turned back to Gary. “I want to paint you.”

“You want to paint me?” he asked.

“Yeah.” Mouse got up to leave. “I need your help Mouse. Stay.” He sat down obediently.

Gary sat on a stool and tried to look sexy. “Nope. Strip,” I said.

“Strip?”

“Strip. You're going to need to take off your clothes anyway if you're going to fuck me.” He looked at me, horrified, and Mouse stared at me in disbelief. “It's cool Gary. Mouse won't tell anyone, will you Mouse?”

“No,” he said simply. And then he actually walked up to Gary, pretty boldly. “I promise Gary. It's cool.” I saw Gary look at Mouse and smile, and then he took off his clothes.

Mouse gasped as he disrobed. Gary really was an amazing male specimen. “You are like a God,” said Mouse with obvious hero worship.

Gary chuckled. “Go ahead, feel my muscle,” Gary said, flexing a bicep. Mouse did, letting his fingers flit slowly and tentatively over Gary's rock hard muscle. “And this one,” said Gary, flexing his pecs. Mouse's hand followed. “And this one,” said Gary, flexing his abs. Mouse's fingers traced down his abs to where Gary's cock throbbed. “What about that one?” said Gary, gesturing at his dick. Mouse stroked him gently and lovingly, while Gary moaned. Then Mouse looked up, looked into his eyes. They moved together in slow motion until their lips met.

“You're really pretty, Mouse. Take off your clothes for me,” Gary said with a gentleness I'd never seen. With me (and presumably with Robbie) it had all been about dominance. With Mouse, he was caring and considerate. Mouse stripped shyly and moved closer to Gary, allowing him to explore Mouse's body with his hands. “Damn, Mouse, you are even more beautiful with your clothes off.” And then he kissed Mouse.

I shrunk into the background. Gary picked Mouse up like a rag doll and put him in his lap, his hard cock lodged between Mouse's ass cheeks. “Is this OK?” he asked politely. Where did this come from? I'd never seen this side of Gary.

“It's great, but it could be better,” Mouse said, grabbing some Vaseline off the table and lubing Gary's dick. Then he lowered himself onto Gary with a moan and a shiver. It was hot as hell, watching them, better than any porn I'd ever seen.

Gary didn't pound him in the way he pounded me, he moved slowly in and out, holding Mouse in place while Mouse just wrapped his legs around Gary's back. I hiccupped, causing them to look at me and break their mood.

“I gotta go. We're even Gary,” I said as I left the studio and locked the door behind me. I found Robbie in bed looking grumpy.

“You were with Gary again?” he asked. He was too drunk to hide how pissed off he was.

“Kind of. I was with him in the studio. I left him with Mouse.” Robbie looked at me, and then smiled big. I don't think he'd figured out that if Mouse was around to satisfy Gary, he wouldn't need Robbie. And even if Robbie did figure it out he would feel honor bound not to fuck up their relationship. If this set up worked, I’d have cut him off from Gary. He'd have to make do with me.

“Good,” he said, and made love to me. It was nice, it was great, but I would be a fool if I didn't notice how far apart we'd grown in just a short period of time.

February 24, 1981

“Damn,” I said, staring at the television. “She is so cute I'd almost be willing to turn straight for her.”

“Yeah, like she'd pick you over the fucking Prince of Wales,” Ace said teasing me. We were watching the engagement announcement and interview of the Prince of Wales and his new fiancée, Lady Diana Spencer. “Shy Di,” they dubbed her, because of the cute way Di looked out from underneath her swooping bangs.

“Her ring looks just like yours Claire,” I said. “I didn't know Jack was a prince.” They just grinned at each other. “Does this mean you're engaged too?” I persisted, determined to get a reaction from them.

“Not yet,” Jack said, raising all of our eyebrows. “I'm too afraid of her brothers.”

“They're harmless,” Claire said. “And they know better.” We smiled, Ace and I. We both liked Jack. It would be really irritating to see her with someone else.

Robbie came in and joined us. I looked at him suspiciously. He'd been with someone. “What were you doing?” I asked.

“Just hanging out,” he said.

“With whom?” I asked innocently. Everyone stared at him.

“What's with the third degree? Fuck this,” he said, and turned around and left. Now everyone looked at me. I just shrugged. We had become more and more distant over the past month. I pretended that it didn't bother me.

We watched the soon-to-be Princess of Wales and were totally charmed by her. She had grace and breeding, and reminded me a lot of my mother. Dinner dragged us away. We sat there chatting away about the engagement, when Robbie came in and sat next to me, still frowning, and still saying nothing. Last in was Mouse, looking uncharacteristically pissed.

“I got an acceptance letter today,” said Ace. It must be good news, based on his expression. He wasn't one to keep a secret, so I was impressed that he hadn't told us when we were watching television.

“From where?” asked JP.

“Princeton,” he said, smiling. I grimaced. He and Robbie could go to school there together. Without me.

“That is really wonderful,” said Mother. “Congratulations Ace. I am so very proud of you.”

“I am proud of you too. Princeton is where I got my doctorate, and where your father got his masters degree,” JP added. Then he smiled big and raised his glass. “A toast to Ace. Congratulations.” We all toasted. Everyone loved Ace.

“You and Ace can go to Princeton together,” I told Robbie.

“That is right. You were admitted there as well,” JP said. “A belated toast to Robbie,” he said, raising his glass. Then Mouse stood up and took his glass and threw the wine right at Robbie, set his glass down, and walked out of the room. None of us said anything.

I looked at Robbie coldly. “Well I guess we know now who you were with before dinner.” He glared at me until he realized that my look was the kindest at the table. We had all grown to love Mouse and, maybe because of his size, or maybe because he was so adorable, we were all very protective of him as well.

“I need to go clean up,” he said as he left the room.

“What about you Brad? Do you need to clean up as well?” JP asked, encouraging me to go talk to him. I had no desire to talk to him right now. What he did, fucking around with Gary, pissed me off beyond belief. I seethed below my façade, but I was practicing, and I was getting better and better at not losing my temper.

“No. I'm fine,” I said, acting as cheerful as I could.

“Well why is that young man throwing wine on that other young man?” demanded Tonto.

“If I were to guess, I'd say that Robbie slept with the guy that Mouse has been seeing,” I told her.

“Well that's a crappy thing to do,” she observed.

“We don't know the story so let's not pre-judge them,” JP said soothingly.

I enjoyed dinner immensely. Afterward I went to see Mouse. “I really like him Brad. I really like Gary. How can Robbie fuck him? I would never do that to him.”

“Well Mouse, as a matter of fact, you and I had sex a few times and Robbie overlooked that. I agree it was a different circumstance, but it happened.”

“So you're saying this is my fault?” he demanded.

“No,” I said sadly. “It is my fault. It is my fault because I cannot satisfy him and he has to turn elsewhere to get off.” I bit back my tears. This was the way things were. This was the mess Robbie and I had created. There was a soft knock at the door.

The door opened tentatively and Robbie came in. “If you're looking for Gary he's not here,” spat Mouse. “You may want to check your own room.”

“I'm sorry Mouse,” he said. I knew him. He was sincere. I felt my reserves fading, felt my temper rising and knew that I had to get out of there fast.

I stood up and walked to the door and stopped next to him, looking him right in the eyes. “It kills me that, after all this time, I'm still not enough for you. I still can't satisfy you.” And then I turned and walked away.

I lay in my room, pondering the whole situation. He hadn't broken the “rules” that we'd laid down. I really had no right to chastise him. Neither one of us was bound to be faithful, but I'd curtailed sharply my encounters with Dan. I guess I figured that we were working our way back to monogamy, slowly but surely. Still, that was all just fantasy on my part. It wasn't his fault that he didn't live up to my dream world. I wasn't mad at him. I was just hurt. Intensely hurt, by this, by his application to Princeton, and by the distance that had grown between us. But I still loved him.

I drifted off to sleep, more fatigued than tired, relishing the oblivion that sleep brought. I felt the bed move next to me and woke up to see who it was. I found Robbie, with red eyes, red from crying. “I can't do this anymore,” he said.

I woke up, wiped the sleep out of my eyes. “Did you patch things up with Mouse?” I asked, ignoring his statement.

“I think so,” he said. “He's still mad at me. I'm still mad at me.”

“Then why did you do it?” I demanded.

“Because of you and Dan. Because I can't stand hanging around and beating off while you fuck him. It drives me crazy that you're in bed with him. The only way I can get back at you, to make myself feel better, is to sleep with someone else.” He paused, as he often did, and I just waited. “I slept with him to make you jealous.”

“It didn't work,” I told him calmly. That was a lie. It did work. It did bother me. “At least not all that well,” I added in recognition of those truths.

“I can't do this,” he said, lying down on his side facing me. “I can't be in this relationship with you.” I stared at him, horrified. I guess it made sense, that if you pushed someone far enough, they'd eventually crack. Still, the game I'd been playing with him, and I suddenly recognized that I had been playing a game, did not have, as its end goal, us breaking up.

“What do you want then?” I asked him.

“I want to know what you want,” he said back, bitterly.

Normally I would have thrown it back in his face and made him answer, but he needed me to go first. “I don't really know. I think that up until now my whole mission has been to make you miserable unless you were with me. I didn't really think about it that way until just now. I guess I still haven't gotten over you fucking Gary in the first place.”

“Do you think you'll ever be able to forgive me for that? If you can't, then that makes this conversation easy. We have to break up.”

“Is that what you want?” I asked.

“I want to know if you can forgive me or not.”

“Not if you still sleep with him.” I was being candid, and that was the truth. As long as Gary was in the picture, I'd still think that he wasn't happy with me. “As long as you sleep with him, it makes me feel like I don't satisfy you.”

“So if I stop sleeping with him, you can forgive me?”

“I think so,” I said.

“No way. No more of this pansy ass bullshit. Yes or no,” he demanded forcefully.

“Yes, I can forgive you and move on.”

“Then let me tell you what I want. I want to be together like we were. I want to be exclusive. Period. You and me, together, and no one else.” I stared at him, trying to decide whether I could trust him with my heart again. “If we're not going to do that, then I think we have to be just friends. This half-assed thing doesn't work for me.”

“What makes you think it will work now, when it didn't work last time? What makes you think we'll be able to remain faithful now?” I didn't see the difference.

“Because now I know what I lost, and I don't ever want to lose you again.” I looked into his eyes, and shut off the logic switch in my brain. I could feel the sincerity, the love, and his willingness to really try. His lips moved in and met mine, a more meaningful kiss I can't imagine. “I love you Brad. I want to be with you, and only you.”

“I love you too. I'm willing to trust you again. But if you fuck up, your life won't be worth a shit,” I said. I don't really think that I was joking. And then we made love, love like only two people who really meant it could make, and it was wonderful.

March 30, 1981

We sat in the front room at Stef's house, staring out at the ocean. I was in a really crappy mood because the waves were fabulous, but I wasn't going out in them today. No, today we had to go shopping. Claire and Jack lounged on one of the couches, while Robbie and I took the other one. I leaned into him, into his soft padding, and he wrapped his arms around me. The last month had been like a dream. What an idiot I'd been for not just forgiving him in December. What a fool. We were made to be monogamous.

The hardest thing had been dealing with Dan. He'd been, well, he'd been pissed. And hurt. I had really burned a bridge there. Now, when he saw me at school, he just pretended that I didn't exist. He didn't come to any of our parties, not even the blow out we'd had for Ace's birthday. The thought of that bash and how much fun I'd had partying with everyone brought a smile back to my face and shoved the pictures of a pissed-off Dan into the background. And Ace had been on cloud nine. His grades were up, so JP didn't put any restrictions on Stef and he finally got his “exotic” sports car. And boy was it exotic. It was a brand new Delorean DMC 12, one of the first ones produced. With its gull wing doors, and its stainless steel body, it was one amazing vehicle. For the first time I didn't have the most desirable car at Gunn. Still, I loved my Ferrari. I wouldn't trade with Ace even if he begged me to. But he was happy, and that's all that counted.

So now, for Spring Break, Claire and Jack and Robbie and I had come down here to spend the week. Today we were supposed to go shopping to get clothes for the Academy Awards. Greg had gotten all six of us tickets, and we were thrilled. Ace had opted to go to Mexico with some friends instead, so it was just the four of us.

“Come on sweeties, time to go,” Stef said. “We have appointments and we have to allow extra time for everyone to drool all over Jack.” Jack grinned. We were just about to leave when a beeper came on the television, interrupting Claire's soap opera. I stopped. “Come on,” Stef said, positively annoyed that we weren't moving.

“Hang on Stef,” I said, “There's something going on.” It could be anything. With the way Reagan had been dealing with the Soviet Union, it might even be news that missiles were flying at us.

Stef sighed, irritated. “What is it?”

I watched the news, stunned. “President Reagan has been shot!”

Now Stef wasn't irritated. Now the appointments didn't matter. He was over with us, in front of the television. We sat there, watching and waiting.

“It was like this when President Kennedy was shot,” Stef said. “I hope he survives this. He did not look too wounded when he was whisked away in the limo.” A couple of hours later it became apparent that Reagan wasn't in immediate danger of dying, so we went ahead and headed to Beverly Hills. Everywhere we went people were talking about it, and wherever there was a television, it was turned on and tuned to the news.

Stef was right. Everyone drooled over Jack, especially the gay guys. “That guy keeps grabbing my crotch every time he measures my inseam,” he whispered to me during the fitting.

“Don't get hard,” I told him. “He might measure that too.” He laughed. Despite the assassination scare we all had a good time. Best of all were Claire's arguments with Stef. He usually had a lot of fun with her, but when the clerks in the stores sided with her, he started to get a little pissed off. It was too funny.

We got clothes that were nice enough that we wouldn't embarrass Stef and Greg, and then headed home. It was too late for surfing, so we just hung out on the couches and watched the news. Reagan, with his fantastic sense of humor, was on the operating table when he looked at the doctors and said, “Please tell me you're all Republicans.” Too funny. He'd be alright.

March 31, 1981

The Academy Awards were really exciting, at first. They lasted for over three hours, and after the initial hubbub of seeing all the stars, the actual awards seemed to drag on. Still, it was fun. Ordinary People won for best picture and Robert Redford won best director for directing it. Best Actor went to Robert De Niro for Raging Bull. I leaned over and told Stef that he reminded me of Sam. JP said he was doing well in St. Louis and really seemed to like Wash U. Sissy Spacek won Best Actress for Coal Miner's Daughter.

After the Academy Awards we made an appearance at the Governor's Ball, and then went on to a few other Hollywood parties. They got racier as we went. I did a bunch of coke at the second one, which kept me going and keyed up for the third party. I saw “Mickey Trotter” at the third party and said “hi” but turned down his offer to go upstairs and fuck. He was such a hot guy, but I was totally into the monogamy thing. We didn't get home until 4am, tired and worn out.

“I saw you talking to that hot guy that was in Dallas,” Robbie said.

“Well, the last time I checked, talking was OK,” I teased him as I ran my hands across his chest.

“Yes it is. You behaved yourself,” he said, smiling. “Isn't he the guy you fucked before?”

“Yep. And I was so good he wanted a repeat performance,” I said grinning, my ego getting a big boost from that. “But I told him no. You're a much better lay.”

“All of this good behavior,” he said, his hand moving to touch my dick, “deserves a reward.” And then he was on his side and I was inside of him, moving slowly and seductively.

“You know what I want to do,” I said, pushing him onto his stomach. “I want to fuck you really hard.”

“Oh yeah,” he said, panting.

“Yeah,” I said, and thrust my dick into him hard. God, it felt so good to have this hot guy, this total stud, and to be able to totally dominate him. I just started pounding him. He quivered and whimpered beneath me, and his ass twitched around my dick.

“You like that?” I asked as I slammed into him.

“Yeah. More,” he said, barely able to talk. I pulled all the way out of him and slammed back in, doing that over and over again. Finally the intensity was too much and I blasted my load inside of him. I was so keyed up I didn't know if he came or not. He just lay there, his body limp and motionless after I was done, and I started to panic. I rolled him over and saw his dick and the bed caked with his cum, and a huge smile on his face.

“That was amazing,” he said. “I like the way we make love, but every once in a while it's fun when you just fuck my brains out.”

“Fuckin' A.” I said.

April 13, 1981

The phone rang early in the morning, waking me up from a dead sleep. I was pissed. It was Monday morning and I had at least another half hour to sleep before I had to get up for school. I pushed Robbie off of me, trying to piss him off too, but he's a heavy sleeper so he just grunted and rolled over. Fucker.

“Hello,” I answered with a crabby, grouchy, tired voice.

I heard Stef's voice, devoid of its normal cheerfulness. “Brad, I am sorry to upset your slumber, but Armand is in the hospital. Since you two shared some, uh, special times, I thought you'd want to know.”

“What happened Stef? Was he in an accident?” I was wide awake now.

“No. He has had a bad cold for a while, but it has turned into pneumonia. They are concerned because he does not seem to be responding to antibiotics.”

“Not responding? What does that mean?”

“It means that they may not be able to cure him,” Stef said, his somber tone breaking my heart.

“I want to see him,” I said. My first instinct was to be there.

“I will send the plane to get you. It is 7am now. It should be in Palo Alto by ten.”

“Thanks Stef. I'll tell Mother.” Armand was her nephew, after all.

I poked and pinched Robbie until he woke up. “Armand is sick, in the hospital. I'm going to LA in at noon.”

“How long will you be gone?”

“I don't know. Maybe until Tuesday night. I'm going to take a shower and get ready.” I jumped out of bed and hopped into the shower, now fully awake. A few minutes later the shower door opened and Robbie came in, a big smile on his face.

“I thought you should have a good send-off.” We made love in the shower, but it was fast, an expression of love and a quick physical release. I wasn't in the mood for anything more.

I found my mother in the kitchen with Tonto. “I'm going to LA,” I told her. “Armand is in the hospital. He's pretty sick. Would you like to come with me? Stef's sending his plane. It will be here by 10am.”

“Give me an hour to get ready,” she said, and went off to pack a few things and phone her office.

We got to the airport right after the plane did. It seemed like no time at all before we were in LA, and even less time until we made it to the hospital. We found Stefan sitting next to him. He moved aside to make room for me and Mother.

He looked nothing like the Armand I'd known and fucked. He was emaciated, almost skin and bones, and so weak he could barely talk. “Brad, Isidore,” he said, acknowledging us.

“You look like shit Armand,” I said. I heard my mother and Stef gasp, but Armand laughed a bit until it made him cough.

“I do. You are in town just to see me?” I nodded. “Then I must be in pretty bad shape.”

“Yes, but you are young and determined,” Mother said. He looked at me earnestly, like he wanted to talk to just me.

“Can I have a minute alone with him?” I asked them. They both shrugged and left the room. “What is it?”

“There are more men like me, other gay men that are sick. Only gay men. There is talk about a plague among us.” He was wheezing.

“Just among gay men?” I asked, horrified.

“So it seems. You must be careful. I do not know what it is, or how it is spread. I just know that I am going to die.”

“No Armand,” I said, grabbing his hand. “You cannot die. You will not die.”

“Unless you are God, I think I will. Let us not dwell on this. I want you to know how much I enjoyed our brief time together. Stefan told me about your problems with your boyfriend.” He paused to cough. “It was not you. You are a wonderful lover. I know. I trained you.” He actually giggled, a vision of the old Armand. “Remember that, have confidence. If you do not, you betray my memory.”

I felt a tear run down my cheek and I leaned in to kiss him but he stopped me. “No, you must not. There is no telling if this is contagious.” I nodded, and left his bedside, replaced by Stefan and my mother.

April 14, 1981

We spent the night at Stef's house and got up early to get to the hospital and then to get home. I went in to see Armand but he was sleeping so I just held his hand while he wheezed. My mother did the same, and then, with nothing left to do, we headed back to the airport and back to Palo Alto. I knew in my heart that I would never see Armand alive again.

I picked up the paper on the plane and it had a big headline: “Hail Columbia” with a picture of the new space shuttle landing. I tried to read it, to marvel at this new piece of space technology and this proof of American resurgence, but I couldn't. Armand's words haunted me. A gay plague? Surely not.