Man In Motion - 23. The Trial

December 20, 1985

Claremont, OH

It had only been five days since we'd been back in the States, but I was anxious to get back to Paris. JP had been adamant that we not leave so soon, and I’d relented. He'd always been a momma's boy, so this had to be killing him. Besides, I'd been happy here, with Jeanine keeping me company. I never thought I would be able to enjoy a woman as much as I enjoyed her. I'm not sure what it was, but she turned me on big time.

We were sitting in the kitchen eating breakfast, and I was just about to have the argument again with JP about going back to Paris, when Grandmaman walked in. “Brad, I want you to know how proud I am that you are willing to step forward and take care of Bitty's children. And I also want to thank you for letting them stay here a little while longer. They brighten my life.”

“Anything for you, Grandmaman,” I said, and gave her a polite hug.

“You are thinking of going back to France soon?” she asked.

“I'd like to get back as soon as possible,” I said. JP looked at me and we argued with our eyes.

“Would it be too much trouble if I joined you? I am still healthy enough to travel, and I would so love to see Paris one more time.” I smiled at her. Was she doing this for me? I thought I saw a twinkle in her eye. What an awesome lady.

“Are you sure, Mother?” JP asked. He saw her expression and smiled. “I guess this means I'll have to visit my relatives, no?”

She nodded. “Both of you will.” So that was my penance, the price I had to pay to get back to France now. So be it.

JP called Stef to borrow his plane while Grandmaman packed for the trip. She was remarkably fast, like she was pretty much ready to go. I chuckled at what a sneaky old lady she was. The limo picked up the four of us and took us to the airport, and our timing was so good we arrived just as the plane landed. I found I could barely constrain myself; I was so anxious to get back there and check on Robbie.

We got ourselves situated, and as soon as the plane was airborne, JP started pelting me with questions. “Have you heard anything new from Albert?”

“I talked to him yesterday; that was the last time. They were still waiting for reports from their investigators,” I said, unable to hide my annoyance that we’d made no progress. “He told me he’d saved the newspaper articles about us. They aren't very flattering.”

“Who cares?” he said, much too casually. “Is there nothing new on this Jerry Kohl guy?”

“Not yet,” I said. “We should be there when the reports start rolling in.”

“When was the last time you were in Grand-Pré?” Grandmaman asked me, changing the subject.

“I think I was still a kid, probably around 10 or 11,” I said.

“Paul has changed much of it. It is a house to be proud of again,” she said wistfully. Paul was her nephew.

“It is hardly a house Grandmaman,” I said, teasing. “Chateau would be a better description.” Grand-Pré was like a smaller, slightly less fabulous version of Chambord. No one would refer to it simply as a house.

“Semantics,” she said, teasing me back and dismissing my comment at the same time.

Grandmaman decided to take a nap, so JP helped her back to the bedroom. Mouse followed her lead and took over the other room. Once they were settled, JP came back up and sat next to me. He had a determined expression on his face that clued me in that he wanted to talk to me. That was fine because I had some things to cover with him too.

“Did Mouse tell you about us?” I asked, taking over the conversation. I saw his mind shift gears as he glanced back toward the room where Mouse was sleeping. He had expected to set the agenda but I’d thrown him off track.

“About what?” he asked. I smiled internally at what was his typical strategy. He'd make me spill my guts to make sure our stories aligned. It was annoying that he would try to trip up either Mouse or me that way, but it was just how he was.

“I fucked him after Robbie left but before you came back,” I said directly, then mellowed my tone. “I'm sorry, Dad. It was like that time after Billy died. I don't know what happened, but I just needed him, and he needed me. I feel so bad, like I betrayed you.”

“Mouse told me. It's OK, Brad. I understand why you did it, and I understand why Mouse did it. Besides, he and I weren't really together at the time,” he said in a matter of fact way. I was a little surprised this didn’t really seem to bother him. “For the record, now we are together, so you keep your hands off of him.” He was teasing me, so I smiled at him.

“Just my hands?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

He frowned at me. “Quit giving him new ideas.”

I actually laughed at that. “I’d heard all these stories about how exciting and flexible you were in bed, so I figured learning about something new wouldn’t bother you at all,” I teased. He gave me a wry look. “So are you going to try it?”

“I am not going to talk about this with you,” he said. I just stared at him, unwilling to be treated like a 12 year old. “I'm thinking about it.” I felt bad for him because he was being pressured to do something he didn't want to do, and the only person who could probably give him pointers on how to do it was his son. I decided that was bullshit. If I could talk to him about anything, shouldn't the same be true of him?

“You have to go really slow. It takes an amazing amount of patience. Trim your nails first. And you have to hold your hand kind of like this,” I said, holding my hand in the beak shape. He relaxed a bit.

“Like this?” he asked, making the shape.

I forced myself not to laugh because he had trusted me to be candid, to not make fun of him. I took his hand and moved his fingers around just a little bit, just as Robbie had done to me when I’d first done it. After that I gave him the whole intense description. “You know,” I told him, “I should be really embarrassed about this, about teaching my dad how to fist another guy. But it's been cool. It makes me feel closer to you.”

He smiled and gave me a shoulder hug. We sat there for a few minutes, listening to the familiar whine of the engines, just enjoying our bond. “Mouse told me you saw Bitty. Did she tell you who JJ's father is?”

“Yeah. She made me promise to keep it confidential. I can't lie to you and tell you that I don't know, but I can't tell you who it is either.” I could tell that irritated him.

“Rumor has it it's Richard,” he said grimly. He kept his voice down just in case Grandmaman wasn't asleep. Our voices dropped to whisper levels.

“Richard? He's been fucking her?” JP nodded. “How do you know?”

“She is not well enough to just leave to her own devices,” he said. “We have her house watched.” I stared at him, wondering how much they had to pay someone to hang out in that ghetto.

“Who trails her when she leaves?” I asked.

“No one,” he said. “We didn't want to create an evidence trail for the police.” I felt like I'd been hit with a gut punch, and he knew it. “It is not Rich?” I shook my head.

“Dad, if I tell you, you can’t tell anyone else.”

“You know you can trust me,” he said, seriously annoyed.

“I'm only telling you because I know you can keep a secret, and I know you can keep a straight face and not give it away.” He looked at me meaningfully. “Jim is JJ’s father.”

“Jim who?” he asked.

“Your brother,” I said. It was his turn to take the gut punch, his turn to stare at me, dumbfounded. “He meets her at a hotel once a week, fucks her, and gives her some money.”

He shook his head sadly. “Jim and his own son are screwing the same woman, who just happens to be related to them. I am so glad I left that fucking town.” That was the first time I'd heard him slam Claremont.

“Now you know why Bitty made me promise to get Darius and JJ out of there,” I said.

“I did appreciate your letting them stay with my mother for the time being,” JP said.

“I was nervous about telling you about Jim because you'll need to be there more often,” I said, referring to Grandmaman’s illness. “I didn't want you to have to deal with having to face him knowing what he had done.”

“So JJ's a Crampton,” he mused. That seemed to be funny to him in some private way. “Thanks for telling me. It will make it a bit tougher to deal with Jim, but I will keep your confidence.”

“It's cool that Grandmaman is coming to France with us,” I said.

“It is very nice of her,” he said, then looked at me intensely, to make sure I paid attention to him. “Don't underestimate her. She's coming to help out.”

“Grandmaman is coming to help Robbie?” I asked, a little surprised. “I didn't know she had influential connections in France.”

He rolled his eyes at my naivete, then glanced back to make sure she hadn’t emerged from the bedroom. “Our extended family in France has been influential for centuries. It has the kind of power that manages to survive revolutions and economic convulsions,” he explained. “She's sent her family, her relatives, money for years. She's paid to rebuild their chateau, she's paid off the debts that encumbered it, and she's paid to put damn near the whole family through school. That is what family is in France, where all of the members work to improve it as a whole. She has done her part, now it is time for them to pay her back.”

“That's really nice of her,” I said. I was a little shell-shocked by that, because I didn’t know that her family had so much pull in France and I was even more surprised that she’d done so much for her family in France and that her connections with them were that strong. “I thought she was looking forward to visiting France again and was kind of sad she had to deal with our issues on the trip.”

“Bradley, it's December. Why would she go to France, just for fun, in December?”

“Duh,” I said, feeling like an idiot. He laughed. We ended up napping ourselves, so landing at Orly was a bit of a surprise. There was a big black Mercedes limo waiting for us this time, with blacked-out windows, a studly driver, and an even studlier guard. We exited the plane and got directly in the car, then they took us to our apartment.

As we got on the elevator, I saw the concierge pick up the phone, and it was pretty obvious what he was doing. The asshole was clearly calling the press to let them know we were back. I quelled my outrage and thought about what a loyal guy he’d been, then decided that they must have paid him pretty well to tip them off.

We settled into the condo, and by the time I had finished showering and sprucing up my appearance, the others had already left. Just as I had expected, the press was waiting for me as I left our building to go to the prison, with their flashing lights and obnoxious questions. I focused on the positive in that they were so fixated on me they’d probably leave JP, Mouse, and Grandmaman alone.

There was another crowd of reporters at the prison, with more flashes and more taunts. I was starting to understand how awful it must be for famous people who had to deal with them regularly. It was simply exhausting. Fortunately Albert was there to help me escape from their clutches. Just as before, he led me into a side room where we were thankfully alone. “Welcome back to Paris,” he said cheerfully.

“It’s great to be back,” I said sarcastically, then my tone got morose. “I got your messages. It seems like nothing has changed.”

“I fear I must correct you,” he said, grinning at me. “Much has changed indeed. Let me tell you about it.”

“I want to see Robbie first,” I said firmly.

“You are a loyal partner. Robbie is a lucky man. This way,” he said, and led me through the maze to the visiting area. It took about 15 minutes for Robbie to appear. He got a huge grin when he saw me, one that brightened my whole day. Suddenly all of the bullshit with the press was irrelevant as I remembered why it was important for me to be here.

“Hey, baby, you're back,” he said, holding my hands through the bars.

“I am. And I brought reinforcements,” I said. He looked at me quizzically. “Grandmaman is here.”

“You're kidding? She came here to help get me out?” There were tears in his eyes.

“It is what French families do; they band together to support each other,” I said matter-of-factly. “How are you?”

“I'm going nuts in here, but at least I’m not bored,” he said. “Pierre brought me all kinds of shit to read, including all of my architecture books, so I spend most of my time doing that. When I get bored with that, I exercise.”

“No wonder you look studlier than ever,” I said, flirting with him. “Did you make any new friends?”

“A few,” he said, cringing.

“Is there anything I need to do?” I asked.

He grimaced, then looked around nervously, as if he were being spied on. He was, since there were guards listening. “There's a guy in here who thinks it's fun to make my life difficult. I'm dealing with him pretty well, but he's got a gang with him.”

“Who is he?” I asked, determined to make this convict’s life a living hell.

“I'm afraid to tell you his name,” he said nervously. “I’m worried things will get worse.”

“If you don’t tell me, I can’t really do much to help you,” I said logically, “so it’s your call.”

“Your time is up,” one of the guards said rudely.

Robbie and I both stood up. His face contorted as he struggled to decide what to do, then he got a look of resolve. Just as they were about to lead him away, he looked at me and said “Hugo Blanqui.”

I left and found Albert waiting for me, and he led me back to our room. Based on how nervous Robbie was, I needed to let him know about this dude. “There's a guy named Hugo Blanqui giving Robbie a bad time. He's got a gang with him.”

“He told you this?” he asked.

“He did,” I said. “He was really nervous about it, but he finally blurted it out when he was leaving.”

He got up and left the room without saying anything, which totally freaked me out. I sat there waiting for him to get back, wondering what the fuck was going on. My mind shifted to Robbie and this dude that was giving him shit. I noticed that Robbie didn’t have any visible bruises, so hopefully it wasn't too intense. I waited for thirty minutes until Albert finally returned. “I am sorry to leave you with no explanation, but it was important that I have Pierre start working immediately on the issue of Monsieur Blanqui. He will handle it.”

“How will he do that?” I asked. I wasn’t willing to delegate something this important to Pierre without knowing the plan.

Albert smiled. “It is quite simple, actually,” he said. “Pierre will work with the guards to get them to protect Mr. Hayes. In addition to that, he will find other inmates to, how do you say it, beat the shit out of Monsieur Blanqui and his friends.”

“Makes sense,” I said.

“It is quite easy if you have the right contacts and the money to convince them to work for you,” he said, reminding me why it was so important that we hired excellent and expensive attorneys.

“Thanks for handling that,” I said.

“You are welcome,” he said, then got more animated. “Now let me tell you what is new. All of your connections and our persistence have been successful. Tomorrow Mr. Hayes’ appeal will be heard at a higher national court. We are optimistic.”

“That is good news then?” I asked. I was pretty distrustful of the French justice system at this point.

“Most definitely,” he said confidently. “It will take Mr. Hayes’ case out of this clown show and put him in a real court. Your embassy has been raising hell at the Foreign Ministry, and they've been ranting at the Justice Ministry, which has made me quite confident that this time he will get a fair hearing.”

“That’s really good news, but if we don’t have a good enough case, then he’ll just end up stuck in jail, won’t he?” I asked. I damned my pessimism as soon as I said those words, but Albert seemed to take it in stride.

“I think that we have an excellent case,” Albert said, and couldn’t quite hide the fact that I’d inadvertently insulted his and Pierre’s legal skills. “Pierre is going to ask the judge to dismiss the case.”

“I didn’t mean to insult you and Pierre,” I said earnestly. “You have both been spectacular.”

“Thank you for that compliment,” he said, and smiled at me. “Do not worry about hurting my feelings. I recognize this is very difficult for you.” He reached out and held my hand for emphasis, and that one physical gesture seemed to finally slay my pessimism.

“So tell me how our case is good enough that we can get Robbie released,” I said.

“It seems that the pictures, as you suspected, were altered,” he said, giving me credit again for an idea that wasn’t all that original. “Despite that huge problem, and how badly it has discredited their assertions, the prosecution is clinging to their case.”

“And that is a good thing?” I asked. I didn’t see how it was good news if the prosecution was still being tenacious.

“It is, because it shows how desperate they are,” he said. I knew nothing about that aspect of things, so I just took it at face value.

“That's great news,” I said. “Is that enough to get Robbie off the hook?”

“It is not, but it is part of a pattern, one that shows that the police work and evidence-gathering was so badly done that none of their evidence is credible,” he said. I looked at him, non-verbally asking him for details. “We have a report showing that the way they sealed off the scene of the crime, or did not as the case may be, and collected evidence violates all of the established protocols. A little more pressure and we might pull this off.”

“I think I can help with the pressure,” I said, smiling. He looked at me blankly. “My grandmother flew over here to personally lobby for Robbie.” I had to bite my tongue not to laugh at my inadvertent rhyme.

Albert looked at me strangely, probably wondering how some old lady was going to help out. “And who is your grandmother?”

“Her maiden name was Marie de Grand-Pré,” I said, and watched that register.

“That is very good news,” he said excitedly. “Her family is very influential in the French judicial system. Most specifically, her nephew, Paul de Grand-Pré, is a high court official in Champagne.”

“I am glad that will help,” I said.

“Paul de Grand-Pré lives in their old chateau and throws some great parties,” he said. “Have you been there?”

“I have, but not recently,” I said. “My grandmother paid for most of the renovations.”

“This is wonderful news. I must tell Pierre. Tomorrow will be interesting,” he said.

“Interesting?”

“Pierre will call Mr. Kohl to the stand,” he said. I made to ask him about that, but he stopped my question. “I will leave that as a surprise for you.” He got up and led me out, then I managed to fight my way through the paparazzi, and out to the car.

I got back to the apartment to find that JP and Grandmaman were still gone. I had initially assumed they were out running errands, but after meeting with Albert, I changed my assessment and decided that they were most likely spending time leaning on senior French officials. I went into JP’s room and found Mouse resting, so I lay down in bed with him.

“So you want to try it huh?” I asked, referring to fisting.

“Yeah,” he said. “I’ve spent a lot of time having sex and watching other people fuck, and I have never seen someone lose it like Robbie did. That feeling must be incredible.”

“It’s probably the sexual equivalent of nirvana,” I said.

“I don’t know if I’ll actually go through with it, because it seems like it would be fucking painful, but I’d like to try it,” he said.

“Then you should,” I said. “The worst thing that can happen is that you puss out.”

“Fuck you,” he said playfully. “Now all I have to do is convince JP. He seems to be getting there, so we’ll see.”

“There’s a downside to this,” I said. He looked at me, waiting for me to explain. “You have such a sweet little ass. When Robbie was really into it, it stretched him out so fucking him wasn’t as much fun.”

He laughed at that. “Well, I don’t think trying it one time will completely ruin me.”

I gave him a kiss then went to my room to plan my outfit for tomorrow. After I had done that, I pulled out the newspapers and tabloids that Albert had saved for me. The first one read “Homosexual love triangle ends in death,” and if anything the others were worse. No wonder the paparazzi were hounding me.

December 22, 1985

Paris, France

This courtroom was bigger and more ornate, but it was also much more crowded. Albert had saved us spots in front right behind Robbie. I was so impressed with how organized he was and how he seemed to think of every detail. When I introduced him to Grandmaman, he was almost annoyingly deferential to her, but she handled him perfectly. I smiled at that, because Grandmaman was the exemplar of good taste and manners. We chatted with him and with Pierre until it was time to shut up and take our seats. Robbie came out and our eyes met, and while we were supposed to maintain a somber visage, we allowed ourselves a fleeting smile.

The court began and there were the same rituals I’d experienced before, with ad nauseum reading of forms, minutes, and announcements. Robbie kept looking back at us until Pierre whispered to him, and then he kept his eyes focused on the judge.

Pierre presented a masterful case to discount the evidence against Robbie, and the prosecution’s response seemed pretty lame to me. After the judge had heard all of the discussions about the evidence, and had reviewed the reports of the investigators, he nodded to Pierre. Pierre promptly called a very nervous Jerry Kohl to the witness stand. He looked different because he had cleaned up for this appearance. He actually was pretty handsome now that he was wearing a nice suit and his hair wasn’t cut like he was a member of the Beastie Boys.

“Mr. Kohl, please describe your relationship with Mr. Gardner,” Pierre grilled.

Jerry swallowed hard. “We were boyfriends.” He was nervous, and this was probably even harder on him because he didn't speak French; that meant that everything had to be interpreted for him.

“You mean you were lovers?” Pierre asked.

“Yes,” he said.

“Were you exclusive lovers?” The prosecution objected and made Pierre define the term. “Did you only engage in sexual activities with each other, or did you engage in sexual activities with other people?

“We mostly only had sex with each other,” Jerry said, and it was almost comical to see him blush with embarrassment.

Pierre walked around the courtroom before asking his next question, which was a nice theatrical effect. Pierre was a bit gruff when I’d dealt with him directly, but it was obvious that the courtroom was where he shone, and he seemed to have mastered it as well as Alec Guiness had mastered Shakespeare. “Besides you, to the best of your knowledge, with whom else was Mr. Gardner sexually involved in the last thirty days?”

“The only other person was Mr. Hayes,” Jerry answered. I was surprised that he’d answered so confidently, because Neil was such a skank.

“According to your statement, you took pictures of them while they were having sex,” Pierre said.

“I did,” Jerry answered.

“Did that not disturb you? Pierre asked. “I would assume that if you and Mr. Gardner were as intimate as you said, watching your lover have sex with Mr. Hayes must have been disconcerting, no?”

“It bothered me a little bit, but it was worth it,” he said, then seemed to freak out, realizing that he'd blown it by indirectly referring to their plan to blackmail Robbie. Pierre was like a predator who spelled blood, and drilled Jerry about that for a long time, until he had Kohl and the prosecutor in knots. By the time he was done, it would have been hard not to believe that this whole thing was a scheme to extort money from Robbie.

“Do you have any further questions?” the judge asked Pierre, once that aspect of the trial seemed to be complete.

“I have one more topic for you Mr. Kohl,” Pierre said. Jerry was unable to hide how relieved he was that this thing was almost over. “Did you and Mr. Gardner ever engage in the practice of erotic asphyxiation?” Jerry’s eyes bulged, and the prosecution just looked confused.

The judge intervened for clarification. “Please tell me what erotic asphyxiation is?”

“Of course, your honor,” Pierre said. “Erotic asphyxiation is a sexual practice where a person is deprived of oxygen during sex; it is purported to heighten the orgasm.”

Jerry sat there in a panic, with his eyes darting around as if looking for a way to escape. “We'd like to request a recess,” the prosecutor asked.

“I see no reason to delay this hearing,” the judge said a bit caustically. “After Mr. Kohl answers this question and any follow up questions, I will grant a recess.” As if to emphasize his ruling, he posed the next question to Jerry himself. “Mr. Kohl, did you and Mr. Gardner engage in this practice?”

“Yes,” he said reluctantly. There was a buzz in the courtroom, despite the judge’s dirty looks. I glanced at JP who simply raised his eyebrows in surprise. I shook my head, thinking of what a kinky little fucker Neil had been.

“Were you the one who was asphyxiated, or was it Mr. Gardner?” Pierre continued.

Jerry swallowed. “Neil was…Mr. Gardner was.”

“To erotically asphyxiate him, you had to cut off his airflow,” Pierre noted. “How did you accomplish this with Mr. Gardner?”

“Sometimes we used a plastic bag and sometimes we used other things,” Jerry said. His tone was partly defiant and partly smarmy, and it clearly annoyed the judge.

“Did you ever use a belt to cut off Mr. Gardner’s airflow?” Pierre asked. He launched that question the way a warrior would have hurled his spear.

The prosecution went nuts again but again the judge shut them down. I got the feeling he’d gotten annoyed with Jerry. “Mr. Kohl, you will answer the question, and I will remind you that you are under oath.”

Jerry looked trapped, and hesitated for a bit, then he slumped in his chair as if he had surrendered to the obvious. “Yes.”

“And how did you use the belt to asphyxiate Mr. Gardner?” Pierre asked, probably just to make sure there was no confusion about this and to further drive home his point.

“I would wrap it around his neck,” Jerry answered. His tone and posture indicated that he was totally defeated. After that, the judge finally granted the prosecution’s request for a short break.

“This is a good turn of events,” Albert said to me.

“How did you know he had done that?” I asked.

“That is why we hired an investigator, and that is why your legal bills are so expensive,” he teased.

The judge called the court back to order and the prosecutor made his closing arguments. It was like he read a prepared statement that hadn’t taken account of Jerry’s testimony, and that made the whole thing not a little annoying, and probably insulting to the judge. He basically rolled out the same, tired rationale that had been all but discredited.

Pierre, on the other hand, was clearly in his element. He deftly tied the entire case together. He pointed out that the evidence against Robbie was acquired improperly, and that some of it had already been proven to be bogus. He emphasized that, based on his sexual practices, and without firm evidence to the contrary, it was just as likely that Neil died while engaged in a consensual kinky sex act as opposed to being murdered by strangulation. He finished with a dazzling summation, pointing out that there was no reason Robbie should even be a suspect in this case, much less held in prison.

The judge paused, as if considering the cases both sides presented, then began to issue his verdict. “I am amazed that I am even hearing this case,” he said, glaring at the prosecution. “It is not clear to me whether Mr. Gardner was murdered or was the victim of a sexual act gone awry, and it is even less clear whether or not Mr. Hayes murdered Mr. Gardner. What is clear is that there is no reliable evidence that shows that he did. I see no reason why he should be retained in custody. I hereby order that Mr. Hayes be released immediately, and that his passport be returned to him.”

“You honor,” the prosecutor objected. Actually it was more of a whine. “With his passport returned, Mr. Hayes will be free to leave France.”

“That is true,” the judge said. “And if you manage to come up with enough credible evidence to renew the charges against Mr. Hayes, you can request that he be extradited. Case dismissed.”

Robbie jumped up and gave me a big hug, one of the most special embraces I’d ever had. I could feel his relief and joy, but I could also feel his pain. He loosened the hug so he could look at me, and gave me a brief kiss. “I love you,” he said.

“I love you too,” I replied, although our exchange seemed more like an oath than simple words.

He turned his attention to Grandmaman and gave her kisses and a hug in the French fashion. “Thank you so much for coming,” he said. “It means so much to me.”

“You are part of my family,” she said, and patted him on the cheek. “I am glad to help.”

Robbie gave Mouse a quick hug, then he was in front of JP. “I knew that if you were fighting for me, I’d get out of this mess,” he said, and hugged JP almost as tightly as he’d hugged me. JP wasn’t overly physically demonstrative, so to see the degree that he returned Robbie’s gesture was touching.

“As my mother said, you are family,” JP said simply.

The guards broke up our party to take Robbie off to get him processed out of prison. That took an hour, and after taking some time to thank Pierre and Andre, we were finally able to leave, although it felt more like an escape. The police were more helpful now, and let us leave out the back door. We made it into the Mercedes limo and were off before the paparazzi even figured out that we were gone. We were quiet except for small talk until we got to Orly, where Stef’s plane was waiting for us.

We were so anxious to get away from France that we all but dashed up the stairs, even Grandmaman, and were airborne in no time. The pilots, on my direction, took the shortest route out of French airspace, a paranoid precaution, but it made Robbie feel better. Finally, when we were safely over the Atlantic, we could all relax.

“If you want to use the bedroom, you are welcome to,” I said to Grandmaman. I was hoping that she’d say no, and she did.

“No, I think that Robbie needs it more than I do,” she said, exposing to all of us how obvious it was that he’d been traumatized. “I will stay here with JP, as we have some things to discuss.”

“Thanks,” Robbie said, then I led Robbie back to the bedroom in the very back of the plane where we could spend some time together, just the two of us. I lay on my back and pulled him to me, a symbol of my being the stronger person. It made sense, since he'd just gotten out of jail. I lay there and stroked his hair, and ran my hand up and down across his back. “You alright?” I asked. He didn’t say anything for a bit, then finally responded.

“I will be,” he said. He lay there in my arms for a bit, then spoke again. “You were right; some time with David will help me get back on track.” I was so glad he had embraced counseling.

“Did they hurt you?” I asked. He paused before answering, continuing the slow pace of our conversation. I knew something had happened, I just didn't know what.

“Five guys cornered me and took turns fucking me,” he said, and buried his face in my shirt. I could feel it getting damp from his tears. “They seemed to think that as long as they didn't shoot in my ass, it was safe sex. They were fucking morons. So now I'm going to have six months to wait, to see if I'm still negative.”

“I'm sorry,” I said, even as I processed how awful that was. My worst fear was that he would be raped in jail, and it had come true, only it was even worse because he’d been barebacked. I was ready to let myself really freak out, when my intuition told me he’d be alright, so I shared that with him. “You'll be OK. I know that seems illogical, but I can feel it in my bones.” He hugged me with his right arm to thank me.

“It was like high school, Brad. It was like living that fucking nightmare all over again,” he said, almost too loudly. “They fucked me hard and rough, one after the other, so I was pulling a train.”

“It’s okay, baby,” I said lovingly, and kept stroking his back.

“They made me blow twice, like once wasn’t enough,” he said, almost being hysterical. “Then after they were done, they made fun of me.” He was a total mess, grappling with what they’d done to him, but I could feel his hard dick pressing into my leg because he’d found it arousing at the same time.

“It's over, baby,” I said soothingly. “It's all over.”

“You’re the reason everything will be alright,” he said as he looked up at me with his beautiful lavender eyes. “You saved me. If it wasn’t for you, there’s no way I’d be able to get through this, but since you’re with me, I know I can.”

“I’ll always be with you,” I pledged. “So we’ll go see David, he’ll help us deal with this, then we’ll move on to a whole new town, a whole new world, and a whole new life. It will be like starting over. It will be fun and exciting.”

He smiled at me and kissed me. “If we weren't on this plane with your grandmother, I'd show you some fun and excitement.” We laughed, and then he got serious again. “You fuck anyone?”

I knew I’d have to have this conversation with him, but I was hoping I’d be able to put it off until he was doing better. That was obviously not going to happen. “Yeah, I did.”

He looked at me, and then got sad. “It was more than just a fuck, wasn't it?”

“It was more than just a fuck,” I admitted.

“Did you fuck Max?” he asked me. It had come out belligerently at first, but he’d been smart enough to soften his tone by the end.

“I told you I wouldn’t, and I didn’t,” I said firmly. He looked up at me and apologized with his eyes, and I smiled to tell him not to worry about it. “I had sex with Jeanine.”

“You had sex with Jeanine?” he asked, then chuckled.

“I did,” I said. “It was really good.” He looked up at me, trying to figure out if I’d turned straight on him, which made me laugh.

“Jeanine is a girl and you're gay,” he said, teasing me. “Let's review. Gay men sleep with other men.”

“I am most definitely gay,” I said, and reached down to grab his ass, making him giggle. “There's just something about her that really turns me on.”

“More than I do?” he asked nervously.

“Robbie, it was fun, and we both needed it, but it was nothing like sex with you,” I said. “Come on. You know that.”

“I know that,” he said. “Somehow, you being with her doesn't really bother me at all.”

“I’m glad,” I said, and sighed with relief that at least that wasn’t going to be an issue.

“Think she'd be into a threesome?” he asked, raising his eyebrows suggestively, and making me laugh.

I smiled and kissed him, thanking him for taking it so well. “We'll have to find out.”

December 24, 1985

Escorial

Palo Alto, CA

We'd only stayed in Claremont for a couple of hours, so we didn’t have enough time to find out about Jeanine and threesomes. I’d felt guilty about spending so little time with Jeanine and Darius, but we’d been so anxious to get back to Escorial and to get into the Christmas spirit, there was no way we could stand to stay in that hellhole of a city. When we’d managed to fly out of Claremont, I’d been almost as relieved as when we’d flown out of France.

We had been four very tired men who had staggered off the plane, only our drama hadn’t been over. Frank had apparently come completely unglued while Robbie had been in jail, and his anxiety was still palpable. His emotional reunion with Robbie showed just how worried he'd been.

Last night I'd fisted Robbie again, and while it was fun, I was really nervous about doing it because of his fragile emotional state. I didn’t say anything about my fears to him, because I figured he was due to see his shrink right after Christmas, and we'd just deal with it then. That may not have been the smartest approach, but I was determined to do whatever I could to make him happy. Prison had been a lot tougher on him than he'd let on. I knew because I knew him, and because I'd been there last night when he'd had a nightmare about it, the one where he screamed and yelled, and had gotten as hard as a rock.

I put all those ruminations aside and just enjoyed Christmas Eve. It ended up being a nice one where nobody went nuts on presents for people, although Lou and Marcel probably didn’t think so when they opened their gifts. Robbie and I gave them nice watches, while Stef gave them each a credit card. I was going to buy them cars, which would have completely blown their minds, but they couldn’t drive yet, so I figured I'd wait on that.

Jack was hilarious as usual. He went up to Lou and stared at him, then pulled him over to a huge, full-length mirror. “They say you're prettier than me,” he said to Lou in French. Claire had forced poor Jack to learn that language years ago and it was paying off now.

“They are right,” Lou said with a smile. “We could make a fortune doing a porno together.” Jack cracked up at that. He was so awesome, the way he was so laid back about things, and with the way he doted on Claire. As long as they’d been together, he’d always watched out for her.

When the family festivities were over at the end of a very long day, I ended up out on the patio with JP, Greg, Marcel, Stef, Ace, Mouse, and Lou, smoking JP’s nightly joint.

“I am so glad Bradley found you and dragged you to California,” Stefan said to Lou.

“I have been lucky in life,” Lou said philosophically, now that he was stoned.

“Luck?” I teased. “It’s not luck; it’s your looks.”

Lou shook his head. “You are more than just looks,” Stefan said, playful flirting with him. “How have you been lucky?”

“When I was a boy, my mother and I lived in a broken down apartment building in Bellevue. I was young, six years old, so I don't remember much except for the fact that it was nasty. My father had just left us and my mother's last bruises from him had just healed. We had no money, and I knew that she was desperate.” He stopped and wiped his eyes. “I did not know what that meant, but I know now. My mother was one step away from becoming a whore.”

“That is too bad,” Stefan said. Lou’s story was hitting him hard. He'd been in that same situation. “That was how my life was, when I was young. My mother had to sell her body to support us, and I had to do the same thing when I got older to support myself.”

“Then you understand what it is like,” Lou said, looking at Stef as if he were a life preserver.

“I do,” Stef replied in a loving way.

“So how were you lucky?” I prompted, to get us beyond this maudlin moment.

“One day, when we were leaving our flat, a man from America and a kid who was older than me came by to see our place. I did not really pay attention to them, and I don’t remember them, just that they were there,” he said, and seemed to be scanning his memory. “When I was leaving on this trip, my mother pulled me aside and told me what had happened when they visited us. She said that the man had come in like an angel and given her a bunch of money, money she'd used to get a nicer place for us to live in a better neighborhood. She told me that money was enough to help her get an education that ultimately led to a government job. She said that the angel from America had saved us before, and that the angel from America would watch over us again.”

Everyone nodded, evidently agreeing with Lou that he’d been lucky, with two exceptions: Stef and me. I stared at Stef, both of us stunned by what Lou had said, until I saw tears start rolling down Stefan’s cheeks. They’d started slowly, just a trickle, but built up quickly until they grew to a virtual flood. Stef seemed to realize everyone was looking at him and got even more flustered. “Excuse me,” he said abruptly, then got up and left. I was going to follow him but changed my mind. Stef just needed some time to be emotional and grapple with this, while Lou needed an explanation.

“Did I say something wrong?” Lou asked, totally horrified that he’d upset this man who had been so kind to him. “I am so sorry. I did not mean to make him so sad.”

I reached over and took his hand to calm him. “You did not make him sad,” I said.

“He seemed sad to me,” Robbie said. I ignored him and focused on Lou.

“Stefan was your angel,” I explained. “He was the one who gave your mother that money.”

“How is that possible?” Lou asked. The others were probably wondering about that too.

“When I was young, I went to Paris with Stef and asked him to show me where he grew up. I pushed him pretty hard to take me to his old apartment. He wasn’t all that happy about it, and the neighborhood was pretty nasty, as you said, so much that we had to bring guards with us.”

“He lived there?” Lou asked, amazed.

“He did,” I said. “We went to the building and climbed up to the apartment, but we didn’t really want to knock and bother whoever lived there. We were about to leave when a lady opened the door and an obnoxious, bratty six year-old came running out.” Lou smiled. “Your mother showed us your apartment, and Stefan gave her that money.”

“All these years he's felt he had to do something to make up for his past, to face his demons,” Greg told him. “All these years we told him he had done that, and he never believed us. And you walk in and shove the proof right in his face.”

“I can't think of a better Christmas present,” JP said.

Lou got up and paused, which seemed to prompt me to stand up as well. “Stefan was my mother’s angel, but you are mine,” he said, then hugged me. As much as I’d acted annoyed at Stef for being all emotional, now it was my turn. Lou ended the hug then went to find Stefan, while the rest of us smoked another joint and thought about the power of karma.