Poor Man's Son - 15. Chapter 14

July 18, 2000

Claremont, OH

Gathan

I drove up to the restaurant and parked, then pulled my wallet out and checked to make sure I had plenty of money. Ever since Robbie stepped in and said he’d pay for my full ride at Stanford, I’d been pretty flush with cash, since now I didn’t have to worry about saving money for college and I could use the bucks I’d saved up. Still, I didn’t want to run short, not tonight. I was meeting Kristin and Taylor here at this French restaurant, along with this guy Taylor was dating who’d just finished up his first year at Ohio State. I wasn’t very happy about it, and I had three very good reasons not to be.

First of all, this restaurant was one of the nicest ones in town, probably the nicest one in town, and it was fucking expensive. Even if I had extra money to spend, I sure as hell didn’t want to blow it by being so extravagant. When I’d told Wally and Clara where I was going, their eyes had bugged out. It had made me feel even worse, since it just showed how much farther I was moving out of their world.

Second, I knew this guy Taylor was going out with, and he was a total douche bag. His name was Josh Grover, and he lived up in the hills in some big mansion. His father was a surgeon or something like that, and they were loaded. He always treated me like crap in high school, always being just a big enough asshole that he could get away with it without pissing me off enough that I’d kick his ass all over the place.

And finally, I had been having such a good time with Kristin, just the two of us, that I didn’t want to waste it with an idiot like Josh Grover. Not only that, I had some really great news for her, and I’d planned out this whole special evening and now it was at least partly ruined.

I paused outside the entrance to the restaurant to force myself into a better mood, and then went through the doors. “Welcome to Chez Paul,” a tall, thin man said in an imperious way. “How may I help you?” His attitude was pleasant enough, probably because I was dressed so well. The Armani suit Stef had bought me fit perfectly. Still, being all dressed up just made me more uncomfortable, and threatened to bring back my bad mood.

“I’m meeting some friends here for dinner,” I said nervously.

“I think they are expecting you,” he said. “You are with Mr. Grover’s party?”

“Yes,” I said, although I wanted to yell at the guy that I wasn’t with Mr. Grover’s party; it wasn’t his ‘party’.

“Please follow me,” he said, and led me through the restaurant to a nice table in the corner.

“Gathan,” Kristin said enthusiastically as I walked up. She gave me a big hug and a nice kiss, causing my bad mood to evaporate.

“Hey Taylor,” I said to her brunette bombshell of a friend, and got a nice acknowledgment from her. “Josh,” I said, and held out my hand.

“Hey Gathan,” he said as he shook my hand. He squeezed too hard, as if he was trying to prove something.

“Josh was just telling us about college life,” Taylor said as she looked at him.

“It’s totally sweet,” he said. “You’ll enjoy it,” he said, looking at me. “It is pretty expensive though.” Slam number one, I thought. Typical of Josh Grover.

“I’ve got it covered,” I said dismissively. “Where are you going?”

“I was at Ohio State,” he said proudly.

“Was?” I asked, smelling blood.

“I, uh, I partied too much in my freshman year, so I have to take a semester off and spend some time at Clareco.” He was referring to Claremont Community College, and trying to make it sound like some badge of honor to party yourself out of school.

“That sucks,” I said with faux sympathy, which only bugged him more.

“Where are you going? Maybe I’ll see you at Clareco.”

I smiled at him, and could see Kristin stifling a giggle. “Nope, not this year anyway. I’m going to Stanford.” He was saved from totally losing face by the waiter, who arrived to take our order. Josh ordered for himself and for Taylor, pronouncing all the French words perfectly, and looking pretty suave.

“I can order for myself,” Kristin said emphatically when it was her turn, as if implying that to do otherwise was a major insult. I smiled at her knowingly, and suddenly felt energized. I’d viewed this dinner as me against the three of them, and that hadn’t been fair. Kristin was firmly on my side. I felt guilty for ever thinking she’d enjoy seeing me put down by Josh Grover. I ordered what she did, since we seemed to like the same stuff.

Kristin and Taylor chattered away after that, until the waiter brought the appetizer Josh ordered. “Here Gathan, try some,” he said patronizingly. “It’s escargot.” I took one and forced myself to look at it normally, then popped it in my mouth and ate it like I enjoyed it, ignoring how gross it was. Kristin raised an eyebrow at me. “Do you know what these are?” he asked me.

“Snails,” I said calmly. That seemed to deflate him a bit, since his plan to gross me out didn’t work, at least as far as he could see. I waited a respectable amount of time before I took a drink of my Coke to wash the taste away.

“I had them in Paris last summer and loved them,” he said.

“I think they’re gross,” Kristin said. It was funny to see him deal with that, because Kristin had a way better pedigree than Josh Grover did. He could hardly consider her to be nouveau.

“Have you been to Paris, Gathan?” he asked me. I saw Kristin start to get mad at that. Everyone knew I’d never been to Paris.

“Nope, but I’m going there tomorrow,” I told him. “You want to come along?” I asked Kristin.

“You’re taking Kristin to Paris?” Josh asked. “Right.”

“If she wants to go,” I said, looking at her.

“You want me to go to Paris tomorrow?” she asked. “For how long?”

“Probably a week or so,” I said casually.

“Did you already book your tickets?” Josh asked snidely. “It’s pretty expensive if you buy them this late.” He got a dirty look from Kristin, so he tried to make it sound like he was being helpful. “If you have to spend a lot, see if they’ll upgrade you to business class. It usually doesn’t cost much more.”

“Nope, we’re not flying commercial,” I said. I turned to Kristin. “Brad’s going over to Paris, and he called and asked if we wanted to go over with them. It’s just him, JP, John, Darius, and El.”

“What kind of plane?” Josh demanded before Kristin could answer.

“It’s a Gulfstream V,” I said dismissively, then turned back to her. “You want to go.”

“I would love to,” she said.

“How romantic,” Taylor said.

“Last summer, we stayed off the Champs Elysees,” Josh said. “We were at the King George V hotel. It was sweet.”

“And close to all the great shopping,” Taylor said, coming to his defense. “Where are you staying?”

“At a condo on the Ile de la Cite,” I said, trying not to mispronounce it.

“Where is that?” Josh asked.

“It’s where Paris was first founded,” Kristin said to him with the same tone a teacher would use to answer a student who should have known the answer. “Notre Dame and the Conciergerie are both there.”

“It’s not a hotel?” Taylor asked.

“No, it’s a condo,” I told her. “It belongs to Stefan Schluter.”

“You’re staying at Stefan Schluter’s condo?” Josh asked. Evidently, he didn’t keep up with the news, as he clearly didn’t believe me.

“Yeah. Stef showed me pictures last week,” I told Kristin. “It’s actually a big apartment that was made by combining floors from three adjacent buildings. He showed me some views from the rooftop. It’s like a big patio on top of the city. You can see the Sorbonne below, right across the river, and the Eiffel Tower to the west.”

“That sounds amazing!” she said.

Josh just sat there, turning green with envy, and dinner turned out to be a blast.

July 18, 2000

Paris, France

Will

Stef and I sat up on the rooftop patio eating breakfast. My body clock was a little out of whack, so it seemed that I was up way too early, but the sun was up and shining brightly. “This is such a great place!” I told him, as I looked out at the bustling city around us.

“It is, and it has turned out to be a good investment,” he said. “We bought this when your father and Robbie came over here to begin their master’s degrees.”

“Is that when Pop got arrested?”

“It is. Has he told you about that?” Stefan joked. Robbie bitched about that every time Paris came up in conversation.

“Once or twice,” I joked back. “Dad says Pop decided not to come over this time.”

“We were supposed to make a trip over here last summer, but that was when we found the box with my father’s diary in it, and went to New Guinea instead,” Stef said.

“Thanks for letting me read that,” I told Stef. “That was really incredible. I think you should write something like that, an autobiography.”

“You have not been to the bookstore?” he teased. “There are stories of my life already out there.”

“Yeah, but I was thinking of one you wrote for the rest of us, with all the juicy details of your life,” I said.

He chuckled. “I think it would get made into a porno.” When we were done laughing, he changed topics. “So what would you like to do today?” He asked me that in French.

“Show me Paris as you knew it,” I replied in that language. Dad had insisted that my brothers and I know French and Spanish. I was fluent in both, and I spoke Italian pretty well too. Darius never quite got the knack of either of them, but JJ was pretty good, especially at Spanish.

There were footsteps on the stairs as Jeff came sauntering up with another guy. “Hey Stef. Your driver is here.” The guy behind him was really cute, with dark hair, a big nose, and a protruding Adam’s apple. He looked quintessentially French.

“I am Pierre,” he said in heavily accented English. I almost laughed at that, at this guy with classic French looks and a clichéd French name. “Welcome home to France.”

“It is a pleasure to meet you, Pierre,” Stef said, flirting. “This is my grandson, Will.”

“ça va?” I asked casually.

“You both speak French?” He asked in that language. “That is magnificent.”

“Jeff is the only one of us who does not,” Stef said, giving Jeff a dirty look.

“Yeah, but I kiss that way,” he joked. Pierre looked at him and smiled, raising an eyebrow.

“We are going to Bellevue first,” Stef said.

“It is daytime, so it will be safe,” Pierre said, but looked nervous. Probably not the best place to take rich Americans.

“Then let us go,” Stef said. We went down and got into the big Mercedes limousine, and Stef handed Pierre a piece of paper with the address on it.

“You want to go here?” he asked, surprised.

“It is where I was raised,” Stef replied. Pierre blinked a little bit, but then shrugged and started driving.

“So it’s in a bad neighborhood?” I asked.

Pierre thought about that, as if trying to figure out how to couch his response, until he finally just said “Yes”.

“When I was here with your father,” Stef said in English, “back in the 70s, I actually went into my old apartment. I do not think we should do that this time, though.”

“Alright,” I said, a little disappointed. Jeff leaned up and was talking to Pierre. Probably lining up a date or something, I thought playfully. We occupied ourselves by staring at the city through the tinted windows, not the best way to see Paris, but I wasn’t going to complain.

I was kind of surprised when Pierre parked the car next to a couple of fearsome looking guys. “The apartment you want to see is on the next block. These are two friends of mine to ensure our safety,” Pierre said. We had attracted some notice as we drove up, but people ignored us as the six of us walked down the street. The neighborhood was seedy, and populated by what appeared to be primarily Arabs.

Stef took it all in stride, not appearing to be nervous at all, which made sense since we were escorted by four hunky guys. “That shop right there was the bakery, where we bought our bread,” he said, pointing to a place that was now a Moroccan restaurant. “That used to be the grocery store.” It looked like the French version of a pawnshop now. We walked up to an apartment building. “This is where I was raised,” Stef said, looking at the building sadly.

“Please wait for one moment,” Pierre said. He went into the building with one of his friends, while the rest of us stood on the curb, surveying the activity around us. We had attracted some attention, but not too much. I felt pretty out of place, but I didn’t feel threatened. People were just going about their business, dealing with their daily lives. Stef talked about the street and the businesses, and I was so fascinated by listening to him that I was surprised when Pierre was there again, talking to us. “Come with me.”

“Where are we going?” Stef asked.

“To see your old apartment,” he said. “Follow me.”

This I really wanted to see. I pushed past Stef and took off after Pierre, so Stef had no choice but to follow us. I walked up the stairs, trying hard not to let the smell bother my nose, but it was impossible. It seemed as if every possible smell, good and bad, were combined in this one stairwell. If I had to identify one, just one, it would probably be the smell of curry. We got to the landing and the door to an apartment was partially open. “This is it?” I asked.

“It is,” Stef said nervously. “I have not been here for over 20 years.” We walked into the small apartment to find an Arab woman scowling at us as she held a baby in her arms. Two other children ran around the apartment excitedly.

“They say you want to see my apartment. Are you trying to evict us?” she demanded in French. “We do not all live here.” There must be limits on how many people could occupy an apartment, and that made her nervous.

“Madame,” Stef said gently. “I am not the landlord. My name is Stefan Schluter.”

“Why does your name sound familiar?” she asked curiously.

“I am an American now, but I was born in France, and raised in your apartment. This is my grandson. He wanted to see it.”

“I know who you are now!” she said. “Please forgive my manners. I thought you were here to throw us out.”

“It is not a problem, Madame,” Stef said. “This looks much the same as it did when I lived here, only I had one small bed over there,” he said pointing at a corner, “and now you have three.”

“I would show you the bedroom, but it is a mess,” the woman said.

“I did not go in that room very often,” Stef said, and a tear fell down his cheek. “My mother sold her body to support us, and that room was often occupied.”

“A woman’s life is not always easy,” the woman said sympathetically. “Your mother did a good job. She would be proud of you.”

One of the little boys, who must have been about six, was smiling at me. “Come, see this!” he said. He led me over to where his bed was and showed me his toy. It looked like one of those Pokémon figures that all the kids were into.

“Very cool,” I said in French, and smiled at him. His mother was preoccupied with Stef, so I pulled 100 francs out of my pocket and gave it to him. “Buy yourself another one. Shhh.”

“Thank you,” he said, smiling at me as he put the money in his pocket.

“We have taken up enough of your time,” Stef said to the woman. I saw him take a wad of bills and put them in her hand.

“What is this for?” she demanded.

“It is to make your life a little easier. I did this once before, and it had a positive effect,” he said cryptically. He turned on his heel and left, while I followed along with Pierre and the others. Stef didn’t say anything as we headed back to the Mercedes.

“You have met Lou, no?”

“Yeah,” I said, smiling. Lou was amazingly handsome.

“I came here with your father and met him, living in that apartment with his mother. I gave her some money, and that helped her do better for her son. Perhaps the same will be true of that woman.” I stared at him, amazed, since I hadn’t known that was where he met Lou. Karma was a pretty powerful thing. Jeff gave the guys Pierre hired some money, and then we drove off, this time to the Tuileries.

The four of us walked around the gardens. Jeff and Pierre walked about ten feet behind us, just like our guards did in the US. “Why did you bring me here?” I asked.

“When I was about your age, I spent a lot of time here, looking to pick up tricks.”

I nodded. I knew he’d had to hustle to survive, but being here with him, walking through the same areas, made it all so real. “I picked up my first man right there,” he said, pointing to a remote area. “He was a fat businessman with a small penis.” We both chuckled at that. “The second one was a sailor who was much more well-endowed, and much more inexperienced.” I saw him wince in painful recollection. “I met him in the tunnel.”

“Where is the tunnel?” I asked. He shrugged and led me out of the park. We walked into a pedestrian tunnel that led down to the Seine. Even at this time of day, there were men lurking around. I could feel their eyes on me, and it was both hot and scary at the same time.

“This was a good place to pick up men,” Stef said. “It would appear that it still is. I bet if we were to come back here at night, it would be much more active.”

“Maybe we should?” I asked him, and raised an eyebrow, making him laugh. We went back to the car and then to a café for lunch.

“This café is very important to me,” he said.

“Why?”

“This is where your father and I became blood brothers,” he said. I nodded, knowing how deep their bond was, and feeling glad to have a bond similar, if less intense, with Stef.

“So the sailor hurt you?”

“He did not mean to, he just did not understand how to fuck another man.” I stared at him, asking him to go on. “He took no time to prepare me, and I was almost a virgin.”

I swallowed hard. “How do you do that?”

He smiled at me. “You must go very slowly, and be very safe.” He saw me get irritated at that. “I know that you have heard all the lectures about safe sex, but you must indulge me, no?”

“I understand,” I said with a smile.

“I lost too many friends to that dreaded disease, and there are more out there besides AIDS. You are much too important to me to risk, so that is why it is important for you to understand that safety is paramount.”

“What if you are only with one partner?” I asked.

“If you are with one partner, and you both are monogamous, then you can have sex without a condom. There is a risk though, and that is that by doing that, you are trusting your partner literally with your life. You are trusting that he is faithful to you, and has unprotected sex with no one else.”

“That’s a lot of trust,” I said. I trusted John that much, but it would be hard to trust someone else like that.

“It is,” he said, happy that I got the point. “When you do it, you must make sure you go slow, and spend a lot of time getting him ready. Or making him get you ready, if you are to bottom.”

“How do you do that?” I asked.

“Use your fingers or toys if you have them, but there is no need, fingers work fine. There are different theories on how to do that, on how to have anal sex for the first time, but I will tell you my preferred method.” He was so funny now, because he had gone into instruction mode. He was not unlike Grand when he talked about the Vietnam War or French history. “I think the man who is going to bottom should be on top, and lower himself down onto the man who is going to fuck him. That way, he can control it, and can stop when it hurts.”

“Does it hurt?” I asked.

“Yes, it does,” he said. “The first time you do it may not be much fun. You read the diary, so you know how my father dealt with it?”

“Yeah, that was pretty enlightening,” I said.

“He did not like it at first, but after a few times, he did. A lot.” We laughed at that. “Some men do not like that. Some men want the top to be in charge, and they want to focus on just taking him, and dealing with the pain as it happens. It is a personal preference thing, but in any case, it is not a permanent problem. After you do it a few times, your body learns how to relax, and how to accept an intruder, no matter how large.”

“It’s harder if the dick is bigger?” I asked, knowing and dreading the answer.

“You take after your father, no?” he asked, and then giggled when I nodded. “I think that once your lover becomes more experienced, he will be so happy you are well endowed. At first, he will not be as thrilled.”

“How do you know my dad has a big dick?” I was really curious about that.

“When he was younger, he had gone to a party with Armand and was very drunk. I was trying to lure Armand off, but your father dropped his pants and showed us how lucky he was. Needless to say, Armand spent the night with him.” We both laughed hysterically at that. “So you are thinking of having sex?”

That suddenly made the mood very serious. “Yeah.”

“With John?”

“Yeah. We made a pledge to be each other’s first. That’s why I was so mad at him, because he fucked Zach and broke our pledge.”

“Your anger seems reasonable now, but you are good to forgive him. John is a wonderful young man, and I am so very proud of both of you. You are both different, though.”

“How so?” Now he really had me interested.

“You are very resolved. If you make a promise, you keep it. Other people, like John, are sometimes more flexible, and do not have your self-discipline. I think that in your life, you will be the one who has to forgive errant partners. I think you will take it personally, when it has nothing to do with you.”

“Why wouldn’t it have something to do with me?”

“Men are not always in control of themselves. When it comes to sex, they will often let their bodies overrule their minds. Only when they are satisfied will their brain re-take control. I have often been like that, and it has gotten me into a lot of trouble.”

“What about Grand?”

“I will not talk to other people about what we talk about. In the same vein, it is not my place to talk about what he has done. If you ask him, you will get a better answer anyway.” That made sense.

“I’ll have to do that.” I replied. He giggled, knowing how uncomfortable Grand got when he had to talk about sex.

“It is not for me to tell you what to do, but I will say this. Do not think you have to rush into this. You can have a lot of fun without actually fucking. You have a lot of time to figure things out, and to let your body mature.”

“I’m not sure John can wait that long,” I said wryly.

“It is less important to be first, than it is to be best,” he said. “Do you mind if I make an observation?”

“No,” I said.

“Some people are never in the right time.”

“In the right time?” I asked, confused.

“Yes. When they are younger, they always want to be older. Your father was like that. He always yearned for that next milestone. And then when they get older, they want to be younger.”

“Like Robbie,” I joked, cracking him up.

“That would be an apt observation,” he said. “I hope you will learn to enjoy the time you are in. You are almost 14. It can be a fun age. Live that age, instead of trying to live as an 18-year-old.”

I sat there and pondered what he said, and he left me alone to do it, just like my dad did. I let that rummage around in my brain, and I knew he was right. “I’m not sure if I can do that.”

“I am not sure if you can either,” he teased. “But I think it is worth a try.”

“Do you think I should move up to Palo Alto?” I asked him.

“No, I do not,” he said definitively. “You must know how much I want you around, so that tells you how strongly I feel about it. I want you to know, though, that I am only saying this because you asked me. If you decide to do it, I will enjoy our time together.”

“Why don’t you think I should move?”

“Because I think you will miss the beach, I think you will miss your brother, and most of all, I think you will miss your father.”

“I’ll think about it,” I told him, because he’d sent my mind spinning.

“I know you will.” We finished up our lunch and went out to see more of the City, and to spend more time together.