Poor Man's Son - 23. Chapter 22

July 25, 2000

Paris, France

Will

I woke up early, well, early for me anyway: It was almost 10:30. Actually, to say I woke up early wasn’t accurate either, since I hadn’t slept much at all. John’s big announcement last night had hit me a lot harder than I’d let him see. After he’d fallen asleep, I’d rolled over on my side with my back to him and softly cried until I was damn near dehydrated. I figured that regardless of what was going to happen today, this would be my last day in Paris, so I went up on the roof to enjoy it. Despite all the crap this city had thrown at me, I still loved it. Grand’s presentation last night had really resonated with me, and had helped bond me to the city. While he was reminding the audience of what a special tie they had with the Louvre, he was reminding me of how important this country was as part of my heritage.

I got up and walked over to the side and looked over the railing at the spires of Notre Dame. Dad had said that Stef had plans for us, plans beyond Paris, but I was hard-pressed to think of a prettier place to go.

“Morning,” I heard a voice say, and turned to find Gathan.

“Morning,” I said. “You’re alone?”

“Yeah, why?”

“You and Kristin are pretty much linked at the hip,” I teased.

“Pretty much,” he said with a leer.

“She’s a lucky girl,” I said. “Happy Birthday.”

He walked up to me and wrapped his arms around me. He was such a strong dude, both physically and just as a person, that being held by him made me feel so safe. “You OK?”

“I’m getting there,” I said. “You?”

“Yeah, me too,” he said. He leaned in and kissed me, in what was probably supposed to be a friendly peck on the lips, but quickly evolved into something much more. Before I knew it, his tongue was in my mouth, meeting mine, wrestling playfully. He finally broke it off. “You’re a very special guy. It’s hard to blame that dude for wanting to tie you up and have his way with you.”

“Any time you want to tie me up and have your way with me, just call,” I flirted. I thought about what my dad had said, about it having to be someone you really trusted. I was flirting, but I could see myself trusting Gathan that much.

“I’m serious,” he said. “You’ve really helped me. Just a month ago, I was one super-fucked-up dude. Now I’m only sort of fucked up.” I laughed with him.

“You were awesome then, and you’re awesome now.” We stood there together, and the closeness was starting to become erotic. I felt myself getting hard, and I felt his dick responding. We both had people we were with, and I didn’t know about his commitment to Kristin, but I figured that my fucking around with Gathan wouldn’t sit well with her, and I knew that it wouldn’t sit well with John. Or maybe it would. We broke apart and sat down in chairs across from each other.

“So what’s bothering you?” he asked me.

“John doesn’t want to be boyfriends anymore. He just wants to be friends that fuck around.”

“Dude, it’s probably best that way,” he said earnestly. “You are so hot; you’ll have guys all over you. How are you going to beat them off?”

“With my hand,” I said, playing into his double entendre. He made me feel so vibrant, so sexy. “I guess I thought I’d found my dream guy.”

“Maybe you have, but dude, you’re not even 14 yet. Fuck, even if you had, there’s a lot of time between now and when it’s time to settle down and find lesbians to have babies for you.” That made me laugh.

“Maybe you’re right,” I told him. I wasn’t sure about that, but everyone kept telling me the same thing. “Still, it’s not real easy to deal with.”

“Probably not, especially right after this shit you went through,” he said, referring to my abduction. He had that pissed off look in his eye, and this time the anger was directed John’s way. I immediately stepped in to defend John.

“I think he was trying to make it easier for me. He knows that part of the reason I’m upset is that I thought I was cheating on him.”

“Yeah, well his timing sucks anyway,” Gathan said. I wasn’t sure if there was ever a good time to dump someone.

“So what do you want to do today? It is your birthday.”

He nodded. “We’re leaving.”

“Yeah, but we’re not going home,” I said.

“We’re not?”

“Oops,” I said, pretending that I’d blown some secret.

“Where are we going?”

“I don’t know. They don’t tell me top-secret information like that.”

“Guess we’ll find out soon enough,” he said fatalistically. He started to get uncomfortable, and started looking around as he sat there. “Where’s Kristin? She was supposed to meet me up here.”

“Can’t stand to be without her for half an hour?” I teased.

He looked at me, really seriously, so seriously that it kind of freaked me out. “Now that you mention it, no, I can’t.” He got up and headed back down the stairs, as if he were a man on a mission.

 

July 25, 2000

Paris, France

Gathan

I walked down the stairs with two things on my mind, both of them happy thoughts. The first one was that Will was going to be just fine. The kid was really amazing; I don’t think I’d ever met anyone so resilient. He gets abducted, has some guy tie him up and fuck around with him, and only two days later, he seems almost normal. Then his boyfriend dumps him, and he isn’t some fucking whacked-out lunatic, he takes it in stride. There was no denying the sadness he was trying to hide, but deep down, I felt like he’d be alright. I thought about how I’d been when I was a kid and I’d had to deal with shit like that. I’d hid it too, but not that well. Maybe he was just a better actor than me? Maybe, but I didn’t think so. Besides, I didn’t want to think about what happened to me; it would ruin my whole mood.

The second thing that made me so happy was what Will had said about Kristin. Not the linked at the hip part, although that made me smile too. I’d never been so sexually fulfilled, and what’s more, I’d never dreamed I could be this sexually satisfied. But he’d made a comment about not being able to stand being apart from her, and that had hit me hard. He was right. When she wasn’t around, it was like I wasn’t complete, like part of me was missing. I felt lost, and lonely. That was when I knew for sure. That was when I knew that I loved her.

I wandered into our room and she wasn’t there. Her stuff was kind of all over the place, like she’d been in a big hurry to get ready, and that wasn’t like her. She was pretty organized. Whatever. I walked through the salon and into the kitchen and found Stef there, looking nervous.

“Good morning,” I said cheerfully.

“Happy birthday,” he said happily.

“Have you seen Kristin?” I asked.

“I have not actually seen her, but I heard her,” he said cautiously. “Did you two have an argument?”

“An argument? No, we are doing just fine. Why?”

“She was crying, quite upset. I got up to see what was wrong, but only in time to see her slam the front door behind her,” he said.

“Just now? This happened just now?” I couldn’t believe it. We’d just had great sex, spent some quality time cuddling, and then I’d gotten up and gone up on the roof. Up on the roof where I’d gone up to hug Will and ended up making out with him. Fuck. She must have come upstairs and seen us kissing. Fuck!

“What is wrong?” Stef asked, worried.

I didn’t have time to explain it to him in detail. “She must have seen me on the patio. Do you know where she went?”

“I am assuming one of the guards went with her,” he said, and dialed a number. He began speaking quickly in French, while I sat there in the kitchen, gripped in panic. I stood up and started pacing around like a caged lion. He finally hung up.

“Well?”

“She ran past them and jumped into a cab,” he said. “I am amazed that she was able to get a cab that quickly.” He was trying to joke, to make it better, but it didn’t work. All I knew was that I had to find her. I tore out of the room, ignoring his calls to me, and ran down the stairs. When I got to the lobby, there was a guard waiting for me: the same guy, Gilles, that had been with Darius and me. Stefan had clearly called and warned them I would be trying to bolt out the door, because he was there, ready to run right along with me.

“So where are we going?” he asked as I dashed out of the condo to the street and looked around, as if there would be any sign of Kristin.

“I have to find Kristin,” I said.

“I will help you,” he said. I ignored him until he grabbed my shoulder. My instinct was to turn around and lay him out. “You will need my help, and you will need a car, if you are to find her,” he added, to calm me.

“Alright, let’s go.” He led me to the back, where we got into a small car, not one of our normal fleet. “This is my car.”

“It’s nice,” I said. “Where did she go?”

He started the car and began driving, more to placate me than anything, since we had no direction. “She was upset with you, I take it?”

“Very,” I told him.

“If I were a young woman, and I were upset, and I were in a foreign land, there would be only one place I would go.”

“Where?” I asked curiously.

“The airport,” he answered.

“Good call,” I said. “Let’s go!” That made total sense, and would be just what Kristin would do. She had credit cards and cash, so booking a flight out would be no problem at all for her.

“Did she take her phone with her?” he asked.

That was another good idea. “Let’s find out.” I dialed her number and it rang, and then went to the generic voicemail. I dialed again, and again, but still no answer. “She won’t talk to me, or she doesn’t have her phone,” I said despondently.

“She may not talk to you, but if she has her phone, she may talk to someone else,” he said.

“Good point.” Damn this guy was good. I started to dial Stefan. “You sure know how women think.”

“That is why I am such a good lover,” he said, with an evil grin.

Stefan didn’t answer his phone either. I was about to call someone else when my phone rang. It was Stef, calling me back. “I am sorry I could not answer your call. I was talking to Kristin,” he said politely.

“Where is she?” I demanded.

“I promised not to tell you where she is,” he said. “Where are you going?” he asked, before I could freak out.

“The airport.”

“I think that is an excellent idea,” he said, validating our plan. “Which one?”

“Which airport?” I asked Gilles.

“There are three, but DeGaulle is most likely, so that is where we are going,” he said.

“DeGaulle,” I told Stef.

“Excellent,” he said. “You are probably wondering if there are any flights back to the United States?”

“That is exactly what I was wondering,” I told him.

“The fastest way home is Air France flight 4590,” he informed me. “That is the Concorde. It departs at 2:25.”

“Do you think that’s the flight she’ll be on?” I asked him.

“She has the wherewithal to buy a ticket,” he observed. “It is approximately $4000 for the trip to New York.”

“She must hate me,” I said despondently.

“She did not talk about that. She merely told me that she had to get home, and that she would let me know that she arrived safely,” he said. “And she thanked me for bringing her here.” Typical Kristin; she was polite to our host even when she was freaking out.

“This is the shittiest day of my life, and it’s my birthday.”

“The day is not over yet,” Stef said, eternal optimist that he was. “You must call me and tell me what happens.”

“Alright,” I said, hanging up. “She’s taking the Concorde flight,” I said to Gilles.

“But of course,” he said, and accelerated. He was driving like a maniac, although that wasn’t really much different than the other French drivers. If I wasn’t so keyed up, I’d probably have puked all over his seats.

It seemed to take forever to get to the airport, and when we got there, it was chaotic. “Here is the deal,” he said. “I will drop you off, but you must promise to keep your phone with you, and to answer my calls. I will park the car and meet you.”

“Alright,” I agreed. “I think I can handle it from here.”

“I have not been helpful so far?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah, you’ve been amazing,” I conceded, and flashed him a smile, which he returned. “I’ll meet you inside.”

He dropped me off at the door and I ran into the terminal, and discovered that the whole fucking airport seemed to be designed only for Air France. I took me a bit to figure out where the check in area was for the Concorde, since it was separate.

“I’m trying to find my girlfriend,” I told the agent. “I think she’s on Flight 4590.” At first she looked at me oddly, and I thought it might be because she didn’t speak English.

“I cannot help you,” she said in English. Well that answered that question. Of course all the agents handling the Concorde would speak English. Most of the passengers spoke English.

“Please!” I begged. “She ran out on me, and I need to talk to her.”

Her expression softened. “I am sorry. I cannot tell you if she is on a flight or not.”

“Can I go to the gate?” I asked her.

“Not without a ticket,” she said.

“OK, then I’ll buy a ticket.”

“Unfortunately, there is no room on flight 4590.” She must have seen my expression. “There was one cancellation, but another passenger booked the ticket not too long ago.” That must have been Kristin.

“Are the flights always so full?” I asked, thinking she was just trying to block me from getting to Kristin. Not that I had $4000 available on my credit card to buy a ticket anyway.

“This one has been chartered by a cruise line, but there was a seat available,” she said matter-of-factly, then seemed to realize she’d given me more information than she should have.

“Look ma’am,” I said politely. “Can you please help me? My girlfriend won’t talk to me, and all I want to do is track her down and tell her that I love her. If she still wants to leave, I won’t cause any problems, but I have to tell her.”

“I’m not sure what I can do,” she said.

“And she’s leaving on my birthday,” I said. I pulled out my passport. “See, I’m not lying.”

“Do you have a credit card?” she asked. I did, but there wasn’t much credit on it. I handed it to her. She began punching keys, like they do at airports, while I waited, my fate in her hands.

“Here,” she said, handing it back to me. “This is a ticket to Strasbourg.”

“Why would I go to Strasbourg?” I asked.

“Because it is a lovely city, and because the flight was only 300 francs,” she said, smiling. “That will get you through security.”

“Thanks,” I said, smiling at her.

“That will not get you to the Concorde, though. Concorde passengers have their own special departure lounge.”

“How do I get there?” I asked. It seemed like every time I had a success, there was another roadblock.

“You would need a special pass,” she said. “I will have to be careful not to put one of those in your ticket jacket.” She grinned at me, and I grinned back. I took the ticket, then impulsively leaned forward and kissed her on each cheek. “Thank you!”

“I have taken some risks giving you that,” she said softly but carefully. “Please do not make a scene. You could cost me my job.”

“I won’t,” I promised. I tore off after that, and while I was waiting in line for security, I called Gilles and briefed him.

“Please let me know if you decide to go to Strasbourg,” he joked, then hung up. I passed through security and then ran to the special Concorde departure lounge.

There was an officious looking agent there, and he looked at my pass dubiously. “Where is your ticket?” he demanded in French.

I decided that charm wouldn’t work with this man, so I responded in English, “I do not have a ticket. I am not here to fly out; I am here to review the accommodations.”

He switched to English as well. “You are here to review the accommodations?” he asked with an arrogant sneer. This guy reminded me of the maitre d’ in that restaurant in the movie Ferris Bueller’s Day Off. I loved that movie, even if it was an old flick.

“That is correct,” I said firmly, almost mimicking Matthew Broderick’s character.

“And whom are you reviewing it for?”

“For Stefan Schluter. You do know who he is, don’t you?” I asked, parroting his attitude.

“I am aware of him. But I do not have you scheduled to visit the lounge, so I cannot let you in.”

I pulled out my cell phone and called Stefan. “Hello,” he answered amiably.

“Stef, it’s Gathan. I’m here at the airport to do an inspection visit of the Concorde departure lounge as you requested, but there’s some snippy asshole that won’t let me in. Can you tell me who I can call to get this asshole fired?” He just glared at me, while Stefan giggled.

“Let me talk to him,” he said. I handed the phone to the guy.

“How do I know this is really Stefan Schluter?” the man asked the phone. He didn’t say anything after that; he just listened as Stefan must have read him the riot act. He started speaking in French to Stefan, but the only words I could understand were ‘Monsieur Schluter’ and ‘regrette’, which I’d learned meant ‘sorry’ in French. He hung up the phone and handed it back to me. “I am terribly sorry Mr. Hayes. I hope you can see how tight our security is, and how carefully we protect our most elite passengers.”

“That’s quite alright,” I said, letting him off the hook. He gestured for me to enter this sacred lounge of air travel. I wandered in and expected to see a bunch of celebrities and movie stars, but all the people there seemed to be German, yammering away in that language. I remembered the agent told me it was chartered for a cruise; it must be chartered by a German company. I scanned the lounge, frantically looking for Kristin, but she wasn’t there. Was all this for nothing? Maybe she wasn’t the passenger that had booked that last minute ticket?

I sat down in one of the lounge chairs, noting how comfortable it was, and let sadness overwhelm me. Where was she? I knew that if I couldn’t find her now, I’d lose her forever, and the thought of that was unbearable. I kept wiping the tears out of my eyes while I looked around the room, hoping against hope that she’d appear.

“Ladies and Gentlemen,” an announcement said. “Flight 4590 to New York will be slightly delayed today. They are completing some final maintenance items on the plane. We should begin boarding within 45 minutes.” I stood up and started to leave when I spotted her, coming out of the bathroom.

“Kristin!” I said, and rushed over to her.

“He told me he wouldn’t tell you where I was,” she said, pissed at Stefan.

“He didn’t,” I said. “I guessed. Any lady as beautiful and classy as you, who wanted to get back to the US quickly, would take the Concorde.”

“Your lines aren’t working with me anymore,” she said. “I don’t want to talk to you.”

“Kristin, don’t run out on me like this,” I begged.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were gay?” she demanded, tears running down her face. “How long were you going to lead me on?”

“I’m not gay,” I asserted, but a bit too loudly, as some of the other passengers were looking at us.

She lowered her voice, setting an example for me. “Were you going to carry this through to the end, maybe have us get married and have kids, and then when I’m 40, suddenly drop it on me that you like other men? Is that the big plan?”

“I’m not gay,” I reasserted.

“You were making out with Will. He’s a guy, you’re a guy. God, Gathan, he’s only 13.”

“He’s almost 14,” I said lamely. “It started out as an innocent kiss and got more serious. I was just trying to be a friend, to be there for him, after all the shit that’s happened to him.”

“That wasn’t a comforting kiss, that was a foreplay kiss. You’ve been with him before,” she accused. I said nothing. “Haven’t you?” she demanded.

“Yes,” I admitted. She turned away from me. “We didn’t fuck; we just fooled around a little bit.”

“You had sex with another guy,” she said. “How is it that you’re not gay?”

“I like him, he’s a good person,” I told her. “It doesn’t really matter to me what body parts a person has. What matters is whether I like them or not.”

She blinked at me as she digested that. “How many guys have you slept with?”

“It depends on what you mean by ‘slept with’”, I said, being technical. That really irritated her. “I’ve only fucked four guys, but I’ve messed around with five.”

“Who were they?”

“I can’t tell you that,” I said. “It’s not my place to out them.”

“I’m worried that I’m just some beard you use to convince people you’re straight. I’m worried that if I let myself fall for you, you’ll hurt me worse than you’re hurting me right now.”

“Have I been a bad lover?” I asked, and grinned slightly.

She shook her head and gave me a feigned dirty look. “No, you’ve been the best lover I’ve ever had.” I felt my ego soar, but this wasn’t the moment to indulge in that.

“Have I not been enthusiastic enough? I mean, we can do it more often if you want?”

“I don’t think that’s physically possible,” she said, joking.

“Look Kristin, I probably should have told you about it, but I didn’t know how to bring it up.”

“Yeah, you should have told me. It’s kind of an important little detail, don’t you think?” She was pissed again, but I was getting the rhythm of her moody anger swing.

“I know, and I’m sorry. But does that really matter? I mean, I haven’t asked you about the guys you were with, other than Josh, but that was just to make sure you didn’t have horrible taste in men.”

“It does matter,” she said. “It matters a lot. It matters because I trusted you, I trusted you with my heart. I let myself fall in love with you, I risked it, and now I’m paying the price.”

“Paying what price?” I asked. “Why do you have to leave me?”

“Because I can’t risk it,” she said. “I can’t risk getting into this any deeper. What happens when you get frustrated because I don’t have a dick? What happens then?”

“I told you, that doesn’t matter. I don’t care if you have a dick or not. I love you for the person you are.”

“You love me? Right,” she said dismissively.

“I do love you,” I said earnestly. I dropped down to my knee and held her hand. “I know it sounds lame, but I didn’t realize it until this morning, when you weren’t there.”

“So I had to leave for you to figure out that you loved me?”

“No, it wasn’t when you left; it was when I was talking to Will. He was teasing me, because after we, uh, after the kiss, we were just sitting there, and I was all antsy. He joked that I couldn’t stand to not be around you for even a little bit, and I realized he was right. It was painful when you weren’t there. I love you Kristin. I really do.”

“I’m not sure that’s enough,” she said.

“Please,” I begged. “Please don’t do this. I’m really sorry I kissed him. I was seriously just trying to be there to help him through this. We’re good friends, and nothing more. He’s dealing with this abduction thing, and John just dumped him.”

“John dumped him?” she asked.

“More or less,” I said. “At least that’s how Will sees it.”

“No wonder he was upset,” she said.

The announcer broke in on our conversation. “Ladies and Gentlemen, I apologize for the delay. Air France Flight 4590, Concorde service to New York, is now ready for boarding.”

“Please stay here with me,” I begged.

“I don’t know,” she said, and turned toward the gate.