Chronicles Of An Academic Predator - 22. Chapter 22

Chapter Twenty Two

October 12, 1962

Western Ohio

The drive from Chicago to Claremont was getting tiresome. I sighed out loud in frustration when I realized I'd have to do it at least three more times before the end of the year. I’d been so tempted to cancel my plans and just stay home, but a promise was a promise, and one of my pledges to Jeff was that I’d come to the 1962 Claremont High Homecoming game. This game was a really big deal for Claremont, since it was the first game in our new, top-drawer stadium. While that was great for the town, I found it hard to get excited about being here when my mind was focused on a week from now, when I'd be on a plane bound for Brussels to spend a long weekend with my boyfriend.

I reached down and turned the heater up a notch. The weather had definitely changed. I was kind of worried that it would snow and I'd get stuck in Ohio, but I put my faith in the weathermen. That was probably pretty foolish, but if things got really bad I could probably fly back instead. There was no snow now, but it sure as hell was cold. Driving could have been fun, in a peaceful and solitary way, but the wind noise from the convertible top was so loud it ruined that effect. I cranked up the heater even more and vowed to get one of those new Corvettes with a hardtop.

The days were shorter so it was dark when I got into town, a pretty stark contrast from the last trip where I’d gotten here at around the same time and there’d still been some daylight out. Everyone was expecting me this time, and since I got there at dinner time, my parents had turned the meal into a big family deal and they’d invited the Schluters, including Stefan. I was still really uncomfortable in his presence, but not nearly as uncomfortable as he was. I couldn’t figure out if Tonto was oblivious to our tension or just ignoring it. She talked mostly about her trip to see Billy. Evidently, he was trying to work things out with Janice, and surprisingly her visit seemed to help that along. I was pretty skeptical about that, but that was her interpretation of things. I'd have to wait to hear from Billy to hear the real story. Neither Stefan nor I said much.

I endured dinner until I felt I’d put in my obligatory family time, and then in order to escape from everyone, I decided to go to Dino’s for a drink or two. I would have much rather have hung around with Jeff, but he and Sammy were at practice and were required to hunker down and rest tonight in preparation for tomorrow's game, so that meant I was on my own. “I’m going to go downtown and meet some friends,” I said, as I stood up and got ready to leave.

I was pretty shocked when Stefan stood up as well. “I am not feeling very well. JP, would you mind dropping me off at home?” He turned to face Tonto. “If that is alright with you?” I didn't have much of a choice, but I figured I'd be safe since Tonto would never allow us to be alone.

“JP, would you mind?” Tonto asked. “I hate to get up and leave right after eating.” Tonto said. I stared at her momentarily, shocked on the one hand, but also glad since that meant she must have decided I wasn't a predator after all.

“Not at all,” I lied. As if dinner hadn’t been bad enough, now I'd be stuck in a confined car with Stefan. I resolved that I would set a speed record on the trip from our house to the Monstrosity. As we strolled out to my car, I noticed he was wearing the winter coat we'd bought in Chicago, so I used that to generate small talk and thus avoid the bigger issues. “That coat keeping you warm?”

“It is,” he said, as we got into the car. Then as soon as we drove away he ignored my hint and dove straight into the bigger issues. “JP, I am so sorry that I did not stand up for you that day in the foyer. I was so scared, and my survival instincts kicked in. I calculated that someone like you, with your unimpeachable reputation, could handle a small scandal, but someone like me could not. I was worried that I would be shipped back to France.” I paused to note how good his English had gotten, good enough for him to use a big word like 'unimpeachable,' but that he still seemed to have a problem with contractions.

Despite his big words and excellent English skills, I was not going to buy into his line of crap. “That's a bunch of bullshit. What you did was rat me out to save your puny little ass. I offered you a way out. I was willing to take you with me to Chicago.”

“I would have loved that,” he said plaintively.

I shook my head at him. “I tried to save you, and to save us, but you just turned on me. I obviously mean nothing to you.” My words came out much more bitterly than I had planned, and that made me wonder if I was really over him. Regardless, that was just one more reason for me to stay away from him.

“You mean everything to me. I am miserable without you. Why do you think Tonto is so nice to you now? It is because I told her everything, and took responsibility for everything.” He was pleading with me, all but begging me to forgive him, but it had no impact, so he tried harder. “I even showed her the pinky ring I got you to prove it.” He pulled it out of his pocket and placed it on the ashtray of the car.

“You did?” I asked, but it was more of a challenge.

“I did,” he said firmly. “We are here together because she trusts you, not me.”

I got so frustrated and confused by the situation that I sighed loudly. “Look Stefan, when you blew me off, it's like a switch turned off inside me, and all of my romantic feelings for you were gone”

“I was that easy to toss aside?” he demanded bitterly, which made me smile a bit. Stefan was much sexier when he was angry or annoyed than when he was begging, but I still wasn’t going to change my mind.

“It wasn’t easy. I cried, I sobbed, but when I was finished with that, I was finished with our relationship. Now all I can offer you is friendship, and even that's going to take a while to restore.” I knew that I was hurting him, and I really did feel bad about that, but I had to be honest with him, and I had to make him understand where I was coming from.

He just sat there quietly, facing away from me, as we finished our trip to the Monstrosity. When I parked, he turned to face me, and his face was wet from all the tears he’d been crying. I remembered how I’d felt when he’d done it to me, when he’d rejected me, and I really didn’t want him to feel that much pain. I impulsively stopped him and pulled him into a big hug. At first he pushed me away, but then he just collapsed into my arms and cried. And as he cried, my feelings for him transformed again. Before, when we'd had the big confrontation with Tonto, I’d lost my romantic feelings. Now, as I held him and felt his pain, I lost my anger. I let it go.

He broke off our hug and turned to open the door and leave. I grabbed his arm gently, stopping him yet again. “Stefan, I meant what I said. I want to be your friend.” I picked up the pinky ring he’d given me and put it back on my finger. He smiled a little then leaned in and kissed me, the kind of kiss that reminded me just how incredibly sexy he was.

After that intense scene, I was glad to get to Dino’s and have a drink. I ordered a vodka tonic and drank it as I thought about my recent trips back to Claremont, trying to decide if they were good for me or not. On the one hand, I seemed to keep having these unpleasant crises whenever I came home, yet at the same time, I slowly but surely seemed to be resolving the unfinished emotional business I'd left behind. I ordered another drink and downed it quickly, and found that the alcohol had worked wonders for my mood.

And just like this city, which never let me get too happy or miserable, my good mood was punctured when Frank Hayes suddenly hovered over me. “Hey Crampton, back in town again? You here to molest my little brother?”

“Why not? You got him all warmed up for me.” I retorted. He looked at me, his irritation apparent, and once again we were in the same pattern we were always in. Did nothing ever change in this shitty city? “Sit down and have a drink Frank,” I said, almost an order, but he did what I said and took a seat.

“Speaking of my little brother, thanks for what you did for him,” Frank said, showing me a caring side of his personality I’d never seen. “My parents and my brothers were treating him like total shit. He's a good kid, best of all of us, and has some real potential. That's why they're trying to keep him down.”

“I have to agree with you. He's a great guy, and he was a huge help to me when I moved to Chicago.” Frank looked puzzled when I said that, which told me that he had no clue that Jeff had helped me move to Chicago.

“When's the last time you talked to Jeff,” I asked him, since it was obvious they didn’t communicate much.

“The night he got kicked out. Came by my house first to see if he could stay with me.”

“What’d you say?” I asked.

He gave me a dirty look. “I said no, like a fucking idiot. By the time I realized how stupid that was, he was gone.” I'd never seen Frank Hayes look sad about something, but he did now.

“You should tell him that. Might make him feel better to know that he's not completely isolated from his family.” Frank just nodded.

“So he helped you move eh?” Frank asked.

“Yeah. Drove me to Chicago, helped me get organized, helped me paint my house, and got to meet the football coach at Northwestern.”

“You introduced him to the football coach?” he asked, incredulous.

“Yep. And they agreed to put Claremont High on their scouting circuit. Isn't that cool?” I was excited about that, and proud enough of it to actually point it out to Frank. If the scouts came here on a regular basis, it may give the guys in town opportunities they wouldn't have had otherwise.

“That's pretty slick JP,” he said. We finished our drinks, then Frank started to stand up. “I gotta go. Thanks for the drinks. See you around.”

“You know what I think,” I said to him steadily. He stopped mid stand and looked at me giving me his full attention.

“What?” he challenged, in almost a smarmy way.

“I think that a person wouldn't have to dig too far beneath that asshole exterior of yours to find a pretty good person inside. I'd like to meet that person someday.” Frank finally figured out that was a compliment, then just nodded again and left.

After that, I'd had enough of Dinos. I headed home, feeling both physically and emotionally exhausted. If I’d been at home, I could have just stumbled into my condo and crashed, but here I had to walk quietly through the house so no one would know I was home and get up and talk to me. But I must have been at least a little drunk, because I got into the spirit of things, and began to dart from doorway to doorway, giggling as I did, acting like I was a secret agent man sneaking into enemy headquarters or something. When I got to my room, I shut and locked the door, and now the giggling became a laugh.

“What's so funny?” asked Jeff, scaring the shit out of me. As soon as I was done hyperventilating, I walked over and fell into his arms. “You're drunk baby,” he cooed in my ear.

“Just a little bit,” I slurred. Our lips met and our clothes were off in no time at all. Then he was on top of me, his huge, muscular, naked body thrusting into mine. His cock rubbed against my groin and I felt his pubic hair rub against the sensitive head of my dick. In what seemed like no time at all, we'd both ejaculated all over ourselves. He lay down next to me and I snuggled up to him, even as our cum mixed together and dried between us. It didn't seem to matter to either one of us.

“Thanks for coming home. It wouldn't have been the same if you weren't here,” he said, and kissed my head.

I could have told him that I was just living up to my promises, but I wisely took a different approach. “I missed you so much,” I said, as I looked up at him and kissed him again.

“I missed you too,” he said.

“Guess who I ran into at Dino's tonight?” I asked, changing the subject.

“Who?”

“Your brother, Frank,” I said casually. I could feel his muscles bunch up underneath that soft coating as just the mention of his brother made him tense.

“What did the fucker have to say?” he asked bitterly.

“He thanked me for helping you out,” I said, and looked up to meet his eyes and see how surprised he was. “He told me what a great guy you were, and what a stupid asshole he was for turning you away after you got kicked out. He said you were the only one of them with any real potential.” I felt him relax again as he let the tension go.

“Humph,” was all he said, acting like what I said didn’t matter even though I knew it did. He'd shut his family out, but I knew it was bothering him, so I was hoping that if he could repair the link with Frank, it would be enough to ease some of his pain. We lay there quietly for a few more minutes, and then I reached down and started gently stroking his balls. I just let my fingers briefly brush across the hairs in a light move. In no time at all I was rewarded with a rock hard cock. I smiled up at him and kissed him.

“You know what I want?” I asked him with my slutty voice

“I know what you want baby,” he said as he rolled over on top of me. He nuzzled up against my ear. “You want my big dick inside of you don't you?”

“Yeah, I want you to fuck me. Please fuck me.”

He moved my legs up and I helped by grabbing my ankles. He gently probed me with his finger. “You like that don't you baby? You wish that was my cock don't you?” He pulled his finger out and entered me, sending waves of bliss flowing from my ass to my groin and then throughout my body.

He leaned forward while he fucked me, bending me almost double, so he could talk to me while he thrust in and out of my ass. “Baby, I love being inside you. You feel so good, you feel like part of me. I wanna flood your ass with my cum.” After that I just heard the noise of the words, not the words themselves, as I lay there getting my ass pounded by this hot, amazing guy. We lasted for a long time, the longest I'd ever gone with him, and it was wonderful. It was as if I could feel every pore in my skin, every hair on my body, and when I finally came, finally exploded, it was as if every pore and every hair simultaneously cheered.

October 13, 1962

Claremont, OH

The stadium was as bright as if it were daytime, with the lights shining on the field and also on the huge crowd, a mass of people much larger than I’d expected. I'd never seen such good attendance at a homecoming game, but what was even more important was who was there. Unlike things had been before the two high schools had merged, there were black people and white people here. The diversity was impressive, and it made me so proud of Tonto and her efforts. I felt a little strange because I didn't have a ticket, but Jeff had given me specific instructions not to get one, and he’d told me to show up at the locker room instead. He said the coach wanted to talk to me, so I did what he told me to do.

I walked up to the locker room door and found a couple of students guarding the door. They were typical jock sniffers, the same type of students who were hall monitors when they were younger. They were typically officious until I identified myself, and then one of them deigned to leave his sacred guard post and usher me in.

The first thing to hit me was the smell, that same smell I remembered from when I was in high school. It was a mixture of dirty socks, moldy towels, and body odor. As I walked forward I saw the various team members getting ready, and when I spied a few of them wearing just their jock straps, I forced my eyes to focus away from that view and on the administrative offices in front of me. It would be totally queer, and would no doubt slaughter my reputation in town, if I got a hard on in the locker room. My guide led me to the coach’s office. Coach Perkins had been here forever, so long that he was the coach when I was in high school. I’d never registered on his radar before, but when he saw me tonight, his eyes lit up.

“JP Crampton! It's great to see you! You are our hero of the hour!” I looked at him, so puzzled that I didn’t know how to respond, but he didn’t let that bother him. He began to ramble on, talking to me about their program, about what a great team they had, and about their new stadium. I listened politely, pretending to be intensely interested. He was a good old boy, not too dissimilar from Bill Hendrickson.

“This should be an exciting year, and an exciting game,” I said, hoping that would be appropriately enthusiastic. He didn’t acknowledge my words, but instead glanced at the clock on the wall.

“Let’s go,” he said. He got up and walked out of his office, while I dutifully followed him. “Call the guys over here,” he said to one of his assistant coaches.

“You got it, coach,” the guy said, and started to shout at the top of his lungs for the guys to assemble. I thought the whole thing was just a bit overdone. It was as if to validate his awesome power over the locker room, they rushed to appear before their great leader as quickly as possible. I found myself standing behind the coach, staring at the group of players and coaches arrayed before us.

“Boys, this here is Professor JP Crampton, from Northwestern University,” he said, gesturing at me. I felt ridiculous, this short, diminutive guy being singled out for all this attention, but I smiled gamely. “Professor Crampton travelled all the way from Chicago to watch us play tonight. I'm gonna ask him to sit on the bench with us on the sidelines.” My eyes got really wide at that honor. I saw Jeff in the group and he winked at me. “Do you know why I’m asking him to do that?” he asked, then waited for a response, but none came, which didn’t seem to bother him at all. He simply asked the question again, only louder. “I said, do you know why?”

The whole team got the prompt this time, and yelled “Why?!” in unison.

He moved up into a circle they made for him, leaving me behind, but still the focus of attention. It was actually a little daunting, since now I was standing there all alone. “Do you know who's out there in the audience tonight? And I’m not talking about your friends and family, and I’m not talking about the alumni and most of the whole damn city. Besides all those people, do you know who's out there?”

He waited and got a resounding response: “Who?!”

“I’ll tell you who,” he said, being even more dramatic, as if that were possible. “There are five scouts representing 12 major universities, and they are here to watch you play, to see if you're good enough to earn a scholarship to play at their school. What do you think of that?” The cheering was deafening.

“So let me tie this together for you,” he said, as if he were an expert on critical thinking. “Those scouts are here because when Professor Crampton took up his position at Northwestern University, he didn't forget about Claremont, he didn't forget about his hometown. He asked them to send scouts to our games, and they did! So that’s why Professor Crampton is sitting on the bench with us tonight!” More loud cheering, loud enough that it hurt my ears, only this time, it didn’t stop.

Several of the players rushed at me, and it was truly a miracle that I didn’t flinch when they did. They grabbed me, then picked me up, and finally carried me out of the locker room and onto the field. I felt completely ridiculous as they carried me over to the sideline in a big rush, but those feelings changed to acute embarrassment when I realized the stadium was packed full of people waiting for the game to start, and even more embarrassed when I remembered that I knew many of them. After the players put me down, I tried to slink off to the bench to avoid the center of attention, but I was stopped as all of the guys, every one of them, came by to thank me, and to pat me on the back. It was one of the best feelings I'd ever had.

Jeff was the last guy to approach me, and he did by putting his arm around me and giving me a very masculine sideways hug. “You boosted the morale of this team like nobody else could have. Watch us kick some ass tonight!”

I’d never really found football to be all that exciting, but that changed when I was sitting on the sidelines. I felt like I was part of the team, and I did what I could to be helpful, which mostly involved handing out ice packs and water bottles. Just being there was a great experience, but it got even better when they beat the visiting team 48 to 12. Both Jeff and Sammy got touchdowns, which was just the icing on the cake as far as I was concerned.

After the celebratory hoopla, Jeff and Sammy went back to the locker room to shower and change, so I migrated over to chat with my parents. I ended up socializing with a bunch of their friends, all of whom wanted to know why I’d been carried out onto the field. Once they found out, they were full of praise, which should have been nice, but instead it became annoying and tedious. I tried to focus on them and act appropriately while looking out for Jeff. At first I was looking for him with anticipation, then my motive switched to concern. It had been a while since the players had started coming out, and the crowd was thinning to the point that the stadium was getting pretty empty, yet there was still no sign of him. I decided to retrace my steps back to the locker room to make sure he was OK.

It was completely empty by the locker room, but I heard some noises, and followed them until I ended up behind the bleachers. I found Jeff being held back by two of his older brothers, while his father was standing in front of him, yelling in his face. I watched as Fred Hayes yelled at his son, rolling my eyes and largely discounting his rant until he punched Jeff hard in the stomach. I instinctively rushed forward and put myself between the two of them. I must have looked ridiculous, small as I am. “What the fuck are you doing?” I demanded.

Fred stared at me, shocked that I was suddenly in the way of him beating the crap out of his son. He was so drunk I could smell the alcohol on his breath. But while he was slow to react, his wife was not. “This ain't none of your business. It's our family business,” she said, getting in my face. She was a withered woman, aged beyond her years, with a crooked nose that spoke volumes about how many times Fred had broken it. It was stunning that she stuck up for Fred like she did.

“No one is hitting anyone,” I said firmly, not yielding an inch to either one of these idiots.

“I said this ain’t none of your business, so you just run along and butt out. Jeff's coming home with us,” she proclaimed.

“You threw him out. He lives with us now. So let him go.” Fred Hayes laughed in my face.

“You little faggot. I always knew you was queer. You just have him locked up in those hills where all you rich people live. All you rich people lookin' down on the rest of us.” He burped. “Well I ain't lettin' one of my sons be kept up there so some rich faggot can cornhole him whenever he wants.” He burped again, and this time some spit actually hit my face, really pissing me off.

“Fuck you Fred. You don't know what you're talking about. That kid has talent and brains, more than the rest of you combined. He has potential. Someday, he'll be living up in the hills, successful and proud. That's why you want to bring him down. You're jealous of your own kid. That’s how fucking pathetic you are.” I spat the words at him.

“Don't you talk to my husband like that, you uppity twit. That kid ain't no good. He needs a firm hand to guide him,” Jeff's mother said, getting in my face. She was a tough old broad, so tough that I wondered if I had to fight her if she'd kick my ass.

Her husband didn't appreciate her help at all. “Shut up woman, I'll handle this,” he said as he roughly pushed her out of the way, then he turned his attention back to me. “I think I'm gonna beat your little faggot ass to a pulp first, then I'm going to teach that son of mine a lesson. What do you think of that pretty boy?” He moved on me menacingly, but I stood my ground. I'd get my ass kicked, but it would be worth it, because that would be the end of Fred Hayes.

“Go ahead Fred, hit me. Go ahead. Do it,” I said. He stared at me, shocked that I was taunting him. “You lay so much as a finger on me, one fucking finger, and you’re done. You’ll be doing jail time, and you’ll end up without a job. You know it, I know it, and the rest of these idiots know it,” I said loudly. I hoped Jeff knew I didn’t include him in that idiot category.

“Right,” he said, but he was nervous now.

“That would probably be the best favor I could do for your shrew of a wife. If you went to jail, it would give her a break from you kicking her ass,” I spat. “Unless you trained these other goons to take your place.” I could sense his reserves snapping; I’d pushed him to the limit. I stared at him defiantly, bracing myself for the punch that was about to come, when suddenly from behind me I saw movement. Then I saw a fist fly past my face and land squarely on Fred Hayes' jaw. I turned to see Frank Hayes fly past me and land on top of his father, pummeling the crap out of him. His mother jumped on Frank’s back and began hitting him, defending the husband who abused her so badly.

The two other brothers let go of Jeff and the four of us stood there, frozen in time as we watched Frank work his father over. Finally the two goons pulled their heads out of their asses and went over to pull Frank off their father, but by the time they finally separated them, Fred was a mess. He was bleeding pretty badly and seemed to be having a hard time even standing up, while Frank just stood there, pulling to try and free himself from his brothers so he could get in a few more licks. I ignored them when Jeff collapsed to the ground on one knee, because he’d gotten roughed up pretty bad, but not as bad as Fred.

Frank’s brothers let him go, but he’d calmed down enough that he just glared at his family, then they went off in one direction while Frank and I helped Jeff walk out to my car. We stood by the Corvette, with Jeff spitting blood out of his mouth and Frank nursing his overworked fists. I made myself useful by starting the car to warm it up. The sound of the motor spurred Jeff into action. He pulled himself upright and walked over to Frank, who looked at him nervously. Then Jeff reached forward and pulled Frank into a big hug. Frank hugged him back warmly, and for the first time in my life, I saw Frank Hayes cry.

I let them have their moment, making use of that time to put Jeff's bag in the trunk. When I returned they had separated. Frank looked at Jeff, then put both of his hands on Jeff’s shoulders. “I'm really proud of you. Really proud. I'm so sorry I didn't let you move in with me when you needed my help. If I could go back and do it differently, I would. But you found a good place to stay, and I'm happy for you. If you ever want, though, you are always welcome. Always.”

“Thanks,” Jeff said, then they hugged again.

As they broke apart and Jeff headed to the passenger door, I held my hand out to Frank and he took it. “I knew I'd get to meet that great guy someday. I hope you shed that outer shell for good Frank. If you do, you've got some major potential too.”

He smiled at me. “Thanks JP. I think I've got it figured out now. Now I just gotta find a new job. I'm sure my dad will get my ass fired on Monday.”

“I seriously doubt that will happen Frank,” I said confidently, knowing now what my contribution to this fight would be. Frank just looked at me skeptically.

That night my mother let Jeff sleep in the guest room, which made it easier for me to join him. I snuggled up to him as usual but he cringed. “I'm pretty sore JP,” he said.

“You sore everywhere?” I leered as I moved my mouth down to his expanding cock. I took him in my mouth and began working his pole. We'd been messing around together long enough that I knew what he liked, but tonight I planned to surprise him. I stopped sucking him and moved down to his balls, licking them, sucking on them, and watching for his reaction. He liked it, but that wasn't his spot. Then I moved lower, to his perineum. I nuzzled my nose into his body, inhaling his scent. I'd never found his body odor to be pleasant, but his balls and perineum were like perfume to me. I licked my way down to his hole and watched it twitch in anticipation.

When I got to his ass, I rimmed the edge slowly at first, almost delicately, and then I got firmer and firmer until I forced my tongue inside his hole. He was moaning like crazy. I had lubed my ass just in case, so I reached back and used that lube to slather my index finger. As I moved up to his cock again, I pressed that finger against his hole. He tensed up.

“Do you trust me?” I asked him, and I felt his hole relax and loosen, allowing my finger to enter. I gently probed in while I took his cock back in my mouth. That distracted him enough, and in just a few seconds I had my finger fully inserted in his ass. As I moved up and down on his pole I carefully moved my finger around, seeking his magical place. I found a soft, button-like spot and gently stroked it. His body stiffened like steel and he let out a loud moan. “Oh God, that feels good. Oh yeah, baby. Oh yeah.” I really had him going now. It didn't take long after that. Between my finger and my mouth I brought him off to one monster orgasm.

“Good?” I asked.

He looked at me and smiled. “No.” I raised my eyebrows, questioning him. “It wasn't good at all. It was great. The best.”

October 14, 1962

I paused before I turned onto Skyline and looked in the rear view mirror at the back of my parents’ house. The painful goodbyes had been said yet again, but I had one more stop to make before I could head back to Chicago. Instead of turning left, like I normally would, I turned right and went a quarter of a mile up the road to the Hendrickson's house. It was a large Tudor style mansion, one that was so large and ostentatious you could easily spot it if you were downtown looking at these hills, it would stand out more than any other house.

I got out of my car and walked toward the door, even as I thought about how strange this was. I’d been here before, but I hadn’t been here since I’d opened my grandfather’s letter in June. I hadn’t been here since I’d found out that, genetically speaking, I belonged here. I wasn't sure what kind of reaction I'd get, arriving unannounced, but Bill Hendrickson knew who I was, and he'd probably be nice enough. I rang the bell, a pretentious gonging thing, and Bill Hendrickson himself answered it, after some delay. I resisted the urge to say “Hi Dad,” and went instead with a simple “good afternoon.”

“Why JP Crampton. It’s good to see you. Come on in.” He opened the door wide, as if to be more hospitable, then led me into his study. The whole time he was doing this, he’d continued to ramble on. “I gotta thank you for what you did for our football program. That was just first class.”

“Thanks,” I said.

“So what brings you here?”

“I want to talk to you about Jeff Hayes,” I said.

“He’s Fred Hayes’ kid, our star wide receiver,” Bill said. “Kid had one hell of a game.”

“He did,” I agreed, then I explained Jeff’s situation, starting with how, after the July 4^th festival, he'd been thrown out and had come to stay with us. I saw him nod knowingly. He'd been there when Barry had freaked out on him, and he’d handled Barry and Stefan, doing what he had to do, but he knew the whole thing was likely to yield unpleasant consequences.

“It’s a damn shame,” Bill said sympathetically.

“It is, but Jeff was doing really well until last night,” I said, then replayed for him the vignette I’d been involved in.

“So after Frank jumped in, the fight was over?” he asked.

“Frank kicked Fred’s ass,” I said, trying not to sound smarmy. I continued in a more serious tone. “Bill, I don't mean to tell you how to run your mill. It's not my place. But Frank was really worried that Fred would work to get him fired. If that's in the best interest of the mill, then so be it, but I wanted to let you know the circumstances so you could better evaluate the situation.”

Bill Hendrickson shed his good old boy routine and looked at me intently. “Frank Hayes doesn't have anything to worry about.”

“Thank you,” I said, since he’d basically done what I’d asked him to do.

I thought that would end his staring, but it didn’t. He kept looking at me, and even though he was making me extremely uncomfortable, I stared directly back into his eyes. I was proud of myself for keeping my cool when he said something that shocked me to the core. “You know don't you?”

“Know what?” I prevaricated, even though my mouth had dropped open when he’d asked me, so there was no way for me to hide my shock. He just smiled.

“You know,” he repeated. I thought about arguing, but it seemed pointless.

“I know,” I confirmed.

“Did your mother tell you?” he asked curiously.

“No, my grandfather did.” I said. “He left me a letter explaining things.”

“Figures that crusty old bastard would find a way to stir things up from the grave,” he grumbled. I tended to agree with him.

“So you think it would have been better for me not to know the truth?” I asked.

“I'm not sure,” he said, then sat back to think about it. “I don’t know if it would have been better or not.”

“I’m glad I know,” I said, to let him know I was done with these bullshit secrets.

“I guess I'm kind of jealous.” When he said that, his general demeanor softened considerably.

“Why would you be jealous?” I asked. That made no sense to me. From my perspective, he’d been the lucky one who’d gotten to bone my mom and get away with it.

“Because you've been a good son, and you're a good person, and I don't know if this means anything to you, but I am proud of you. I would have liked to have been a bigger part of your life.” I'd never seen Bill Hendrickson with his guard down like this, and I’d never seen him so sincere. He was kind of like Frank, a nice guy beneath the veneer.

“Thanks,” I said, smiling back. “That actually means a lot.” Bill Hendrickson was a successful guy, so to have him tell me that he was proud of me, it was a pretty big compliment. Then I remembered my father, and my mood changed pretty fast. “When I found out about this, I promised, I swore to myself that this secret would remain a secret. I could never hurt my father like that.” He didn’t let that bother him at all, and actually seemed to appreciate that I was willing to fiercely defend my father.

“I understand that, and don't worry; I'm not saying a thing,” he said, but it came out as a pledge, a vow. It was very convincing. He softened his tone yet again as he continued. “I’m sure this has been tough to deal with. For what it's worth, I'm sorry. But if, after you think about all this and sort it out in your mind and you end up not hating me like you probably should, I'd like to have the opportunity to get to know you better.”

I just nodded, since I really didn’t know what to say to that. “I’m glad I stopped by,” I told him, as I shook his hand.

“I’m glad you did too,” he said, and ushered me out of his house. As I drove back to Chicago, I pondered his words, and shook my head as I thought about how completely unexpected that whole conversation was. I think I was most surprised that he said he wanted to get to know me better, and that he wanted to try and have some sort of relationship with me. I turned up the heat in the Corvette and drove back to Chicago, glad to escape from this place that just fucked with my emotions.

October 15, 1962

Chicago, IL

I had clothes laid out all over my bed and my dresser as I organized my wardrobe for my trip to Brussels, trying to figure out what to wear so I looked my best for André. I knew he wouldn’t care unless we went out, and even then, he wasn’t as picky as I was, but it was important to me. Even though I wasn’t scheduled to leave until Thursday night, I was so excited about going that I had to do something, anything, to move the process forward. Jason sensed my keyed up emotions, and fed off of my excitement.

I was interrupted by the door buzzer, which completely surprised me. I wasn't expecting anyone, and the concierge usually stopped anyone who wasn’t on our ‘approved’ list and announced them. I was still trying to decide who it could possibly be when I answered the door and found a uniformed Western Union agent standing there.

“I have a telegram for Dr. JP Crampton,” he said, sounding very official. I couldn't stop myself from swallowing in fear.

“I'm Dr. Crampton,” I told him, barely suppressing the nervousness in my voice. Telegrams were never good news.

“Please sign here,” he said, and handed me a receipt. I signed it, he gave me the telegram, and left.

I stared at the telegram with Jason hovering around me, both of us wondering what it was. I finally fought back my fear and opened the telegram.

TO: JP CRAMPTON

FROM: LT ANDRE CLERREAULT, USA

SENT: OCTOBER 15, 1962

DO NOT COME TO BRUSSELS STOP ALL LEAVE CANCELLED STOP AM FINE AND WELL STOP

I read it a few more times, then handed the telegram to Jason, who was just as confused as I was. I walked over to the couch and turned on the television. The news was on but there was nothing to suggest a crisis. If there was no crisis, why the fuck would leave be canceled? I felt the rage flow through my body. If André did something stupid to get his leave canceled, and ended up fucking up our plans, I'd kill him myself. I stopped myself before I went down that path. I didn't know why this happened, but I did know that André wouldn't just blow off our weekend together for nothing. He was as excited to see me as I was to see him, or at least I hoped he was.