Matt Stryker - 4. Chapter 4

We collected Dillon and went back to Los Angeles. When we got back, both of us knew we had to get a bigger place. And the news about Mark was out. How? Were we followed? Probably. We had to be careful. The tabloids ran all sorts of wild stories. Speculation and assumptions. “Matt Stryker’s Jailbird Brother.” And as always, speculation about Matt’s connection with my family. Our family. Why was Matt always at family functions if he and his ex-wife were divorced, right? Was he and Aunt Mary getting back together? Why was I there all the time and why was I almost always with Matt. Forget that I was always there to cook and advise about nutrition as was what I was getting paid to do. I was living with Matt, they said, why? Was there something about Matt’s tie with my family? Questions we answered time and time again. Or rather didn’t answer except to say he was family. Neither of us acknowledged the questions or answered with a yes or no. To her credit, so did Aunt Mary who only answered that Matt fell in love with the family and was family. Then there was “Stryker Reunites With Estranged Terminally Ill Mother.” That was sort of true. But I wonder where they got their medical degree to make such a diagnosis. Iris had a fighting chance, or so we were told. It was stage 3, she could lick this. What we didn’t tell them, they often made up! There were tabloids like the Inquirer hit on the truth, but it was as with the other claims. That Matt and I were secretly involved which most people ignore! Look at Matt’s track record. Married and engaged and who would say no to Matt? He was a hunk! That fact I agreed with.

And then there was Dillon. He was a whirling dervish of chaos. It took him a while to get used to me. And why not? I was his father’s brother’s boyfriend. Is there a term for step-boyfriend? Especially when we don’t want a three year old blabbing his mouth about his uncle’s boyfriend! He was a handful! Mom and Dad never hit me. Ever. Dad said logically, how could he? If you had to hit to make them do what you wanted, how would they learn anything like the fact that war was wrong? Or a crime? If you could strong arm a person to do what you want, was that right? Did you have that right? No. Might did not make right! But there were times I was tempted to force issues. Then I caved. I called Mom.

After she stopped laughing at me. “You’re doing fine.” Mom told me. Then she got serious. “You aren’t feeding him processed sugar are you?”

“And make him worse!?” I balked at the very idea. “No way!”

“Okay.” Mom said. “Some fruits can do the same thing, like pineapple.”

“I know! I know! I paid attention to what you taught me.” I said exasperatedly. “I’m not new to the nutrition thing.”

She paused. “But, Sweetie. Think about what that little boy has gone through in his only three years of life.” She said softly. “His mom leaves, his father goes to jail, leaves, now he’s thousands of miles away with two people he doesn’t really know. In a place that isn’t his home yet. He might be trying to protect himself. In case you leave. He doesn’t know you and he was forced to move to somewhere new? That’s hard on anyone. Let alone a three-year-old.”

She was right. Why on earth hadn’t I seen that? I knew she was saying the truth, but…he was acting out. “So, what should I do? How do I convince Dillon we’re not leaving?”

“You don’t leave. Tell him that every day. Reassure him. Love him. He’s part of Matt, you know?”

Mom was right. I had to pour more love on the boy and tell him Matt and I were not leaving. And he was a little version of Matt! And stubborn as Matt. Then again, he may be like Mark. Matt may be like his brother. I don’t know it sometimes gets confusing. But seeing Dillion as a part of Matt made it easier. It was almost like having a child of his, but I missed the diapers and 2 am feedings. What a pity. (I was being sarcastic.)

My classes had to wait. Now I was home full time. I still cooked Matt’s meals and planned the menu. Dillon was a smart little boy and picked up on everything. But he tested me every single moment. After a particularly trying day, I was exhausted when Matt came home after I’d finally gotten Dillon to sleep.

Matt looked at me feeling guilty. “I am so sorry.” I suppose I looked pretty rough.

“Why!?” I looked at him. “Matt, this little boy has been through Hell! He doesn’t know who to trust. I’ve got to get through to him. I’ve got to get him to trust me!”

“But this is so unfair.” Matt reasoned. “He’s my nephew. You’re taking care of him.”

Feelings right then were raw. “And I’m nothing?” I challenged. “Sure, right now, I could strangle Mark. And your mother. Dillon backed from me thinking I was going to hit him, Matt! Afraid of me! I don’t want him afraid of me. Or you.” I threw my hands up. “Right now, I feel like your wife!”

Matt’s eyes grew and then came together in an angry snarl. More annoyed than angry. “My wife!?”

“Yes, your wife. I am cooking and cleaning for you.” I said angrily. “I’m caring for a little version of you all day. He has his father’s face, therefore yours. I am your wife! Now I can’t be his mother or grandmother. Until he trusts me, I can’t even be his friend! But all these jobs is what a person does as a wife!”

Matt wasn’t treading too far with this. “What do you want to have done? Do I hire a maid?”

“I don’t know!” I knew I was shouting for no reason. “I’m just at the end of my rope!” I covered my face with my hands, took a deep breath and looked at Matt. “I love you, Matt. And the thing is, I love that little boy in there. I’m just so…frustrated.”

Matt pulled me into an embrace and held me.

Then we heard it. This blood-curdling scream. I ran into the room Dillon was in, followed by Matt. Dillon was screaming sitting up. Of course, I held him from whatever terror he was seeing or feeling. That little boy clung to me crying. Then I heard it. “Meme.” What he called his grandmother. That broke my heart. I rocked him a bit.

“It’s okay, Dillon,” I said. “I won’t let anything happen to you. I promise. You’re Uncle Matt is here. I’m here.”

“Meme.” He said in the most pitiful way.

“You miss her.” I nodded. “I know. But she didn’t leave you. She’s sick.” I explained again as I had done before. “She just got sick.”

He sniffed and now, at long last, he seemed to get it. “She’s sick?”

“She still loves you very much,” Matt assured brushing some loose hair from Dillon’s face. “But she can’t care for you until she gets better. That’s why you’re staying with Eric and me.” He ran his hand through Dillon’s hair. “Now, while you get to know us. Know we’ll do anything you need doing. We won’t leave you, Dillon. Maybe you can give us a chance?”

I held the boy as he cried and it finally lessened, then stretched out next to him until he fell asleep again. I did, too. It was Matt who woke me a few hours later. “Come on, Baby. You need some rest. In our bed. Come on.”

It only took a few minutes and I was gone! I woke to the smell of bacon. Matt’s side was cold and empty. I managed to wander in the kitchen where Matt was cooking. He couldn’t boil water, he said. “What are you doing?” I asked chuckling. That startled him and he spun around.

“Hey, Baby.” Matt greeted with a big smile. “I admit I can’t cook near the way you can, but I can whip up bacon and eggs. Make toast.” He shrugged. “I was making you breakfast, this time.” He grinned giving me a kiss. “Good morning.”

He could be a sweet, sweet guy. “Thanks. But I’m supposed to cook for you.”

“Want me to dock your pay?” Matt grinned. Then got serious. “Today we’re all taking the day off. No cooking or cleaning, just you, me and Dillon visiting a certain mouse that has a theme park near here.” He grinned. “What do you say?”

“It sounds great,” I said enjoying the hug.

Dillon was so happy seeing Mickey Mouse and Donald. I mean, who doesn’t love Mickey? Matt donned the cap and wore the dark glasses and we just blended into the crowd of people at Disneyland. It was a good vacation day for all three of us.

That night, Matt and I discussed our situation. “This arrangement will be for about a year. Mark gets out in a year. He’ll want Dillon back.”

“Going back to a man Dillon doesn’t know and hasn’t seen except the occasional visits during visiting hours,” I argued. I shook my head. “Dillon’s been moved too much. Yes, Dillon is Mark’s son and they should be together, but he’ll be traumatized again!”

Matt frowned. “What do you think should be done?”

“Can’t Mark move here?” I asked. Then I rushed on. “I mean California, not with us. Though he probably should at first. But he should move to Los Angeles.” I shrugged. “Iris can move here, too. Or we can see that she has the airfare if she doesn’t want to move.”

“Move here.” Matt thought out loud. “I don’t think Mom would move. But it might be something Mark would do. I need to talk with his parole board, or whatever it’s called. He needs a job. Maybe I could help him find one.”

I continued my train of thought. “He could move in with us. Get to know Dillon again. Then take Dillon home, where we will be often so he doesn’t feel abandoned again.”

Matt gave a shrugging nod. “That sounds good. Mom will never go for it for herself.”

 

That issue about his mother resolved itself. About four in the morning when the phone rang. Answering it, Matt was groggy with sleep but sat up quickly upon hearing the voice. “Hello?”

I heard the woman’s voice say it was a call from Tygart corrections and from Mark Stryker, would he accept the charges.

“Of course.” Matt sat up. Then was told the call was recorded.

“Mark?” Matt asked. I rolled overhearing him call his brother’s name. “She what?” Then he sighed heavily. “Jesus.” Then he stood up. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.” He hung up and turned to me. “Mom killed herself.” He said it so tired and worn.

My heart fell. It felt like it literally had. I didn’t even know the woman. But this was his mother! No matter what she’d done. She was his mother! “I am so sorry.”

He nodded. “I know.” He went to our closet and got a suitcase. “I need to pack.”

“You need to pack? We need to pack. I’m going. So is Dillon.”

“He’s just becoming manageable!” Matt growled angrily. “Why would she do this!?” Then he was screaming. “How dare she do that!? She wasn’t there for Mark or me. Now, she’s abandoned Dillon! Of all the selfish, heartless things to do!” He flung the whole suitcase against the wall as hard as he could. “Damn it!”

I’ve known him years now and I could see the pain on his face as plain as day. But he needed to vent. I watched him try to physically push the feelings away, the anger and pain. Then I watched him collapse on the floor as all strength left his legs and just cry. “Mama!” Here was no longer a man, but a little boy who just lost his mother. It hurt me so badly and I hurt for him seeing his pain. I got on the floor with him and just gathered him up in my arms as we both cried. And he let out a softer, mournful “Mama.” Was the most heart-wrenching sob. Now our problems was even worse. How do you tell a three-year-old? He had to be told. But for now, I just cried with Matt.

As I said, in spite of what she’d done, she was still Matt’s mother. And he did love her, as evidenced on the floor of our bedroom. After Matt got himself together a little better, we went into Dillon’s bedroom to get him up. We got him up and I fed him breakfast. Once he was awake and coherent, Matt began.

“Remember when we said Grandma, or your Meme, was sick?” Matt asked carefully.

Dillon nodded.

“Well, Meme got very, very sick.” Matt started off, his voice breaking a little. “The thing is. She died.”

The problem is in dealing with a three-year-old, you never know what the child understands. Has he lost a pet? Does he realize that his grandmother is gone and will not be back? We never said she was asleep or some other excuse. We told the truth. My concern was his mental state. We couldn’t do this alone. I called my mother and told her.

“Oh, my god.” Mom gasped when she heard. “Poor Matt. And Dillon! I’ll be there.”

“That isn’t nec…” I began to say.

“Of course it’s necessary,” Mom argued knowing what I was going to say. “His mother died! Matt needs his family! We are his family. I’ll be there.” And that was that.

So, one more time we flew to Charleston, West Virginia. Even Mark got out of Tygart to attend his mother’s funeral and was at the funeral home with us when we arrived. Matt had arranged a lovely funeral and we did it in record time. We got to meet some people from her church. They were scary in a “these are people can’t be real?” sort of way. Simple people, we knew we’d never see again. Thank god. Then again, we didn’t tell them she’d committed suicide. They believed it was from cancer. Fine. My mother and Grandmother came to the funeral home the night before the service. Mom came up without saying a word and hugged Matt.

“I am so sorry, Matt,” Mom said.

“She was obviously in pain, Matt.” Grandmother said urging Matt to understand.

I pointed to Mark. “Mark Stryker, this is my mother Betty Hiott. And this is my Grandmother, Margaret Sams.” I gently pulled Dillon forward who still wasn’t understanding, but tried to work things out quietly. “This is Dillon.”

Mother looked at the boy with a huge smile. “Hello, Dillon. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” She greeted shaking his hand.

It was after the service we went by the house where Mark and Matt spent their youth. We got a few things Matt wanted to take back with us. And we found a letter addressed to Matt.

“To my beautiful sons. You’re reading this and I have died. This was not a decision I made lightly and it is very selfish, I know. But understand, I can’t go on like this any longer. I can’t put into words the sort of pain I feel on a daily basis. The medications I take make me hollow. I am in a constant fog that I can’t get used to. If I don’t take them, I see, hear and smell things I don’t know aren’t real. They seem real. They terrify me. I did as I needed to because of Dillon. Now that I have gotten through to Matt, I know Dillon will be taken care of. Mark, what you did was not the smartest thing you could have done. But you are a good man and I know you will be fine. Matt, you are a talented man. You’ll become a great man. I am proud of both of you. I pray that both of you find love and happiness. Be good to each other and take care of Dillon. Forgive me. Iris Stryker.”

I closed the letter Matt and I read, sighing. “Grandmother was right. She was in pain.”

Matt nodded and let out a sniff and wiped his face from tears that had come while reading the letter. “More than she let on.” He sat back with a sad smile. “Well, her pain is gone. I would have liked to have had her in our lives again.”

“She is,” I said. “There’s a lot of Iris in you and Mark. We need to let Mark see this.”

 

We got back to Los Angeles and began our lives again. Matt did other guest appearances. There was another movie offer. Then Matt came in very quietly. I heard the door and heard Matt ask quietly in a near whisper. "Eric, where's Dillon?"

I was in the kitchen getting things ready to go with the meal. I turned around and nearly dropped the pot I was preparing to use. Before me was a huge man. The biggest man I'd ever seen. There was thick long black hair that fell beyond his shoulders. He was literally seven and a half feet tall, maybe eight! He wore a uniform of black, with these shoulder things that were edged in silver. There were shoulder things like shoulder eplits that went beyond his shoulders making his shoulders even wider! Beyond his shoulder pads?! A vest/jacket of lighter black and grey belted at the waist with a black belt. He even looked bigger mass wise...thicker. He was a Klingon! He was frightening with the long hair, head ridges, his uniform he wore black leather gloves with those little spiky things that would hurt a person more if hit with them. He even had those crooked teeth like spikes. But it was him! Those makeup people were geniuses. With a black-gloved hand he pointed to Dillion's room. "I don't want to scare him." He did in a stage whisper. Behind Matt were Jonathan Frakes and Michael Dorn still dressed as Worf and Riker in the yellow and red uniforms.

I grinned at him smiling at them. "Do I go to red alert, Commander?"

Jonathan shook his head laughing. "No."

Michael nodded and said very Worf-like. "The situation has been dealt with at this time." He reported smiling. He went back to his regular voice and said. He slapped Matt on the back. "It seems that D'ghot here couldn't figure out how he was getting home."

Jonathan nodded with a light chuckle. 'It seems he didn't fit in the front seat."

"I fit with the seat all the way back, but work the peddles!? Would you want me to try?" Matt asked. "I'd kill someone, most likely me!" He waved toward me. "Gentlemen, this is..." he paused as he thought, "He's my nutritionist, personal assistant, keeps track of when and where I need to be, handles incoming mail keeps me sane." He smiled at me, "and good friend. He is the nephew of my ex-wife." He shrugged. "He's family even after I divorced his Aunt Mary. He still remains." Then he brightened. "Then I find out he cooks and becoming a chef. He's wonderful in the kitchen and his family is into plants and herbs...and what they're good for. His mother, father, grandmother, great- grandmother all did this and the cures work! They have a business that can cure almost anything and he's done it ten years!" Matt was an actor, but now I saw him being more than an actor. Things like this...telling people why I was here spread that way and making it obvious. "He can make something to wake me up and stay awake and to calm down at night. He helped with my short bout with addiction. I couldn't not hire him!!" He grinned at me. 'This is Eric Richards."

I laughed with him. "Just think of me as his Guy Friday." I shook their hands. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

"And Monday, Tuesday... every day! He does everything." Matt stated.

"Wow," Mike said impressed. "I need one of those."

"We all could use one." Jonathan agreed. "Where can I get one of those?"

Matt chuckled. "I don't know but this one cost me a marriage and a divorce so I'd say they are pretty expensive."

"Most of the time," I began. "I think he uses that family connection as an explanation to why I'm in his house at night. Or he's trying for the family discount." I looked at the kitchen. "I like what I do here. An almost gourmet kitchen, great equipment to use," I waved to my select knives and utensils, "good quality things to use. What better first job could you get on the day of graduation? It's a dream." I said. "I ain't movin'." I threw down the dishtowel. "I'll get Dillion." I walked into Dillion's room where a video was playing, thank God, he didn't hear Matt come in. I grinned sitting on his bed. He really had changed when we got him out of West Virginia. I don't know how Iris was at home with him, now he was just a happy, calm little boy. "Dillion."

"Yeah?" He said. Ok, "yeah" wasn't popper to use but Mom said to pick your battles, this wasn't one right now Besides, I said yeah too. "You know that show I watch? Star Trek and the many aliens on it? You've seen them with me."

"Uh huh." He said not looking but played with his action figures.

"You know Worf?" I asked........

"Uh huh." I chuckled to myself thinking maybe I should teach him some proper words.

"He'a Klingon. Do you know what that is and like the show?" I asked.

"Uh huh." He still played making the engine sounds of the plane about to divebomb whatever.

That uh huh. Was he saying yes he knew Worf, knew what a Klingon was or liked the show? I choose all of the above. "What if I told you there was a Klingon here in this apartment...right now?"

Action figures were instantly forgotten as he spun around to me. "Nu-uh," he declared. Yes, he needed teaching. Then again there were words that every child uses. Where they learned them is a mystery. Every parent, even Matt and I would state, they didn't learn from us. Three of those words were nuh uh, uh huh, and uh uh. It seems every kid knows them and use them. And who is to say they aren't proper. Who did we think we were?

I grinned at him. "Uh huh." I chuckled reaching out for Dillion's hand which he took. "He was worried you might get scared. He is pretty scary, he scared me. He wants to meet you and he won't hurt you. He's very friendly." I looked down. "Do you want to meet him?"

He nodded eagerly and held my hand tighter. He was going on four and loved the many shows on TV, but we needed to be careful. They were bigger up close.

Coming down the hall the three were seen and all turned toward us. Dillion slowed his pace a little, but he knew Riker and Worf. In their Starfleet uniforms with the badge communicators on. He smiled at them excited a bit. The other one he didn't know in a black uniform with these arms across that massive chest looking more intimidating and...BIG! The scowl in Matt's face was not on full power but there.

Jonathan turned to Dillion knelling on his knee. "Hello, Dillon." He said. "I'm Command William T Riker of the Starship Enterprise." He waved to Michael. "You know Lieutenant Worf?"

Dillion nodded.

"This is Captian D'ghot of the Klingon Empire. He commands the IKS Battlecruiser Klothos." Jonathan told Dillion. "Your Uncle Matt has been working with us these last two weeks."

The scary one was forgotten. "On that spaceship!!??" Dillion almost squeaked. A man's voice will rise when excited or told something incredible but hard to believe. Why not a child? Their voices were high already. But it did.

Mike continued this by saying, "That is correct. Your Uncle is returning soon," Mike said deeply as Worf. "He spoke highly of you often and we had to meet you. Especially Captian D'ghot." He waved to Matt who turned to Dillion with arms crossed over his massive chest facing him more.

"He has a surprise for you." Jonathan smiled.

"And a message," Mike said.

"That message is..." Matt said in a voice I had not heard...deeper and gruffer...almost as intimidating as his appearance in that uniform. He knelt down on one knee.

Dillion was now looking at the face of Captian D'ghot oddly. It was good makeup and if you looked, it was Matt.

"Don't be scared, this doesn't hurt me," Matt said more normally. He bent his head forward so Dillion couldn't see him remove the teeth and dental props. He reached back pulling on the wig and lifting it off and taking some of the ridges off. "That message is..." he looked up at Dillion more like Matt. "I love you very much."

There was the classic long intake of breath of recognition as his mouth opened and his eyes widened so wide I wondered if it hurt. "Uncle Matt!!!" He shouted running to hug Matt and knocked Matt over. as he lost his balance putting us all in motion to help Matt.

"I'm fine." Matt chuckled struggling to get up. "How do women walk in heels!? And they do it on purpose!" He bellowed kissing Dillion on the head. We were all gathering around to help, but he waved that off again and stretched his legs out to remove his boots there. "I'm fine." He hit himself in the chest hard. "I've been padded so much to add bulk I never felt a thing." He hit his rump as he rolled over. "Even back here."

"Those boots can't be worse than those platform shoes in the seventies," Mike said smiling at the humor of it.

Matt thrust his hands toward the boots. "Platform shoes on steroids. These are stilts!"

"Listen, Genie's expecting me..." Jonathan began chuckling with them.

"No, no...go." Matt waved to him and Mike. "Thanks for giving me the ride and doing this for me. You didn't have to."

"What we do for our kids." Jonathon laughed.

"It was no problem," Mike said. "Eric, nice to meet you." He shook my hand as he dug at the back of his skull to remove his wig and then started talking to Matt.

I walked them to the door. Jonathan looked at me. "Matt says you're from Charleston, South Carolina."

I nodded. "I am."

"Genie and I met there a few years ago to do a mini-series," Jonathan said pleasantly.

I nodded again. "I know, North and South. Book One and Book Two. I loved it, but not your character. That means you did a good job. I wasn't supposed to."

Jonathan chuckled. "You got it. Most people can't understand that I'm not Commander Riker."

I nodded thumbing back toward Matt who was attempting half-heartedly to untie his left boot and talk to Mike at the same time. He was trying to hold Dillion still "The same with him and Merrit, his UCM character."

He cocked his head smiling. "And you're a Chef?" He marveled and shrugged. "I mean, you have to be from all those great smelling meals you bring Matt."

I gave a small smile and nodded. "I will be soon."

"Matt says you're in your early twenties!?" Jonathan balked amazed,

I chuckled at his disbelieving face which was comical. "That's right."

"And you can do all that...stuff. He said your family has done it for generations...I mean remedies and treatments for everything and they work!" He shook his head. "And you know them."

I laughed at him. "Yes to all of that. I was raised doing it. Mom is a botanist and my late father was a biochemist. Mom was raised on a farm and knows plants and took botany to further that." I smiled at him as he shook his head. "I think my first raddle was a spade." I watched his eye widen. "Mom taught me plants and what they were good for before I could walk or talk. I have almost twenty years with the Herbology," I leaned toward him. "Mom took me to the gardens with her in a stroller." His eyes widened more. "Fifteen years of Herbal Medicine or Herbalism or known as Phytotherapy," now his jaw dropped a little. "Over ten years as a cook. Now, I want to be a chef and open a healthy food restaurant..not health food...people always confuse that part."

"Daamn." Jon said quietly still not believing. "Matt was right to hire you so quickly."

I felt it. That moment when two people meet and you think there was a potential friendship possible..and I could have. Just because he was a star and director...he could be friends with an employee of Matt's. Inviting him and Mike or even Jonathan's wife over for dinner...I could do there as I lived there. It was my home too. Matt would be there and it would be us entertaining them. We would do it together, but we needed to make it seem platonic. It wouldn't matter if Matt and I were a cou[le or not. I had friends from school. Matt had friends with the other people at the studios. We hadn't been here that long and with schedules to consider. I chuckled again. "I have no certificates or degrees to show you, but I have a lot of experience. I was taught by three great teachers. Between Mom, my grandmother and dad, I was taught the business like some children learn their ABCs at an early age. I'm confident in what I do."

"Damn." He said again then thought. "Know anything to get rid of back pain?" He put his hand on his lower back. "Every evening I get this ache..."

I laughed. "Sure I do," I reached and turned him around. I touched his lower back. "From the symptoms, you tell me and without an examination...it sounds like the typical male back stress," I moved my hand to the middle of his back. "Do you feel it more on one side than the other?" He shook his head. "Any diseases or infections like...Ankylosing Spondylitis or rather, Arthritis?"

His eyes widened. "I hope not!" He grinned. "I'm not ready for that yet."

"Well, the Psoas Muscles and Sciatic Nerve pain are the usual causes. We sell a cream with the needed fish oil with their Omega 3s, Turmeric, MSM, Magnesium, and various oils like Peppermint and Wintergreen are great anti-inflammatories when concentrated. You can make one yourself using Frankincense and Cypress Oils. They will relieve the pain." Then I grinned. "Or," I held a finger up for him to wait. I ran and got the extra we had for Matt. I returned and gave squat glass mason jar looking container to Jonathan. "You ask a friend that has some." I pointed to the "To Your Health" logo on the front. "The phone number and email address are there to order more."

He looked at the jar and looked again in disbelief. "Once again...damn." He smiled. "He's never letting you go!" He shook his head. "And you cook so well from what I smelled from Matt's lunches. I'd love to try some." He pointed at our apartment. "Whatever you're cooking in there smells amazing." He looked at Mike. "Home, Mike."

Mike growled. "You were talking with Eric."

"Well, I'm done now. I need to get home." Jonathan said back.

Mike frowned and spoke like his Klingon character. "You are not an honorable man."

Jonathan didn't miss a beat. "Save it the office, Mike." He looked at me smiling pointing his hand to me as he walked away. "Whatever he's paying you, demand a raise!" He and Mike headed off. "Warp 7, Lieutenant."

"Patac'Q." Mike swore in Klingon calling him a jerk.

I closed the door Matt voiced it what I was feeling. "Damn, I hate this." He growled as he finally got the left boot off. Boot? He was being badgered with questions by Dillion. The boot had some stiff black metal strips coming out to go up the sides of his leg.

I knelt down by him. "I'll help you," I said. "What do you hate?" I helped him with the other boot.

He waved at the door letting his arm flop at the futility sitting back so I could work on the remaining boot. "Jon." He said as he worked with me the boot. "And Mike." He shook his head. "They wouldn't care that we're a couple!" He said pulling his leg as the boot let go.

"I know," I admitted softly. "I was just thinking about to invite them for dinner but I can't as part of a couple." I sighed. "We need friends. Doris Day was one of the friends for Rock Hudson keeping his secret." I pulled the boot away but touched the stiff metal sticking out of the boot that would go up the sides of both legs. "What is this!?"

Matt chuckled. "Something that keeps me from twisting and breaking my ankles." He laughed giving me an arm to pull him up with. "They should have had some to keep me from breaking my fool neck!" He smiled as I hauled him up. "It took four of the costumers to get me in and out of this suit every day. Now," he grinned kissing me. "Hi, Honey! I'm home."

I wanted to hug him, but I wasn't getting him. "Let's get you out of this.

"Beware," Matt warned, "I smell pretty rank in here."

"Were you really in space, Uncle Matt?" Then began Dillion's first lesson as to what his Uncle Matt did for a living.

' 

In a conversation with Matt, he said again. "You do so much for us. You are not letting go of your dreams.” Matt said firmly.

“Who said I was?” I asked with a grin. “I like taking care of you and Dillon.”

“I am,” Matt said. “You cook for me, you care for a three-year-old, you’re looking for a new place for us and putting your life on hold. You will finish your schooling and you will do something for yourself.”

Life was busy. I was doing all those things and more. Dillon finally settled down and was a delightful little boy. But soon he was going to be four, so I looked for a school he could go to. He needed others his age to play with. Venice Beach was great, lots of eye candy for an adult, but he needed kids his own age. And I wasn’t just sitting when home. I did things other than what Matt hadn't said or even knew about. I wrote. Dreams and fantasies. I put on paper. Or rather, on the computer.

Thanksgiving we went back to North Carolina and life was getting more and more interesting. When Matt, Dillon and I arrived. Naturally, I was hugged by all. But when my mother hugged me, something was off. She felt….wrong. She looked very happy, but I held her back.

“Mom? What’s going on?” I asked, seeing her loose shirt.

Mom grinned more and took Floyd’s hand. “Well, I was waiting until everyone was here…but…Floyd and I are having a baby.” She pulled her shirt back so we could all see the slight swell in her abdomen.

“Mom!” I grinned seeing the evidence. “You’re pregnant! Mom!” I hugged her. Everyone got excited about it. Then I grabbed Floyd. “You knocked up my mother!”

He grinned nodding. “Yes, I did.”

“Good job!” I hugged the man. Big tough marine? Sure, but a marshmallow inside.

Dillon made friends with Tammy and Dana. Tammy was three years older than Dillon and Dana was just a little younger, but they seemed to get along well.

Matt had to get back and so did I. Dillon began a preschool. Then I found a house to rent until we could purchase one. It was not a mansion. Just a four-bedroom house. A pretty southwestern Spanish architecture with a nice yard for Dillon. And get this, it was in Beverly Hills! Beverly Hills! I know!

Mom gave birth to a girl. They named her Jennifer. At the turn of the next year. Mark was finally paroled.

Matt, Dillon and I met him at the airport and took him back to our home. When we arrived, Mark let out a slow whistle.

“This is pretty sweet,” Mark said looking around. “I woke up this morning in the cell block at Tygart. Tonight I’m sleeping here in Beverly Hills!” He smiled at his brother. “I can’t thank you enough, Matt. You or Eric. You’ve taken care of Dillon, allowing him and I to get reacquainted. Got me a job…” He was humbled. You heard it in his voice.

Matt grinned as he gave his brother a quick hug. “You’re my brother.” He shrugged. “I couldn’t turn my back on you. On Monday you begin working at the studio.”

“Tomorrow we go to the parole board. Then have a nice weekend at home.” I suggested.

Mark pulled his brother into another quick hug, then he hugged me. “I don’t deserve this. Thank you for all you’ve done.”

 

The weekend was great. Dillon and Mark had two bedrooms that shared a bath. That way, Mark was there instantly if needed, but had his own space.

And Matt was in demand like he’d never been before. And not just for movies or TV. No! Rolex and Calvin Klein wanted him. Pictured with a Rolex on his tuxedoed arm and his face could just be seen, but the watch was focused. The Calvin Klein ad with two beautiful women on his arm in a similar tuxedo by Klein, but the most remembered, and more famous one was the jeans add. He had on nothing but the jeans and a smoldering look. He was hot! Sexy as HELL! Those billboards were everywhere! They wanted to do a sequel to Scarred. Every woman wanted him and every guy wanted to be him. To be honest there were a few guys that wanted him, too. There was a pride I felt looking at the large ad near my school. I had him. I loved him. And he loved me. But I couldn’t tell anyone! Damn it!

But our lives moved on. I walked into the kitchen. Mark and Dillon were having breakfast.

“Grandma and Granddad expect you two to come for the Fourth of July,” I said as I got my coffee.

Mark frowned. “But it’s your family. Not ours.”

Matt came in hearing what his brother said. “Not anymore.” He wiped the sweat off he’d gotten when he ran. “Betty and Margaret said you were family now. You should come.”

“I told you that before,” I said to Mark. “You are family. End of discussion.”

Matt grabbed me at the midsection. “That’s right.” He asked kissing me.

Mark groaned with a smile when we kissed. “Children in the room.”

Matt looked at his brother. “Dillon’s seen me kiss Eric before.”

Mark shook his head. “I mean me.”

Matt laughed and threw his towel at his brother. “I need to shower. Care to join me?” He asked me.

I gave him a scrunched face. “I have to take Dillon to school.”

“I can take him,” Mark said. “You two….” He waved toward us. “Make all the…” he glanced at Dillon “…bubbles you want.”

I looked at Matt. “Can I take my coffee?”

Matt grinned. “Sure.” Then he looked back at Mark. “Bubbles?”

Mark looked at his brother with a leering smile. “You want me to say what it really is? Maybe I should have some luck making bubbles. We do look similar. Those half-naked ads of yours are everywhere. Maybe I’ll get lucky.”

Matt smirked. “Those half-naked ads paid for your Captain Crunch.” He pointed out.

“Good cereal.” Mark nodded.

“There will be no Captain Crunch in this house,” I stated firmly but grinned.

“What are you guys talking about?” Dillon asked having gotten lost in the conversation. “I like making bubbles.”

Matt shrugged. “He’s a Stryker. He’ll be a bubble making champion one day.”

“But he needs to be taught to do it safely.” I cautioned.

Dillon was now frowning. “It only stings if it gets in your eye.” His right eye narrowed. “What kind of bubbles are we talking about?”

“The kind I’ll tell you about in a few years,” Mark said. “Get your stuff. We need to go.” Then he looked up. “We’d love to go to the family 4^th of July.”

 

Things were smoothing out. Of course, Aunt Mary was a bit unnerved as we gathered to celebrate the 4^th of July. She arrived the day before, we had flown in a few hours earlier. She stopped at the entrance of the den.

“Wait.” She held her arms out at what she saw. “There’s another Stryker here now?”

Mark stood when Aunt Mary entered. He stuck his hand out to her. “The name’s Mark. Mark Stryker. I’m Matt’s older brother.”

“And blonde,” Mary noted. “Are you straight?”

Mark smiled. “So far.”

I was bouncing my sister, Jennifer, on my knee. She was giggling. “You only have yourself to blame.” I smiled at her. “You brought one in. The others just…followed.”

Aunt Mary sighed. “We’re cursed.” It was all done in jest, so soon Mark was just one of us. But I noticed Mary putting on her best flirting with Mark.

“She’s not dumb enough to do it again, is she?” I asked Mom as we watched the two go for a walk.

Mom looked toward her sister. “She is.”

 

Now, the first thing I got noticed for. We were having a party. We were having a few guests, most were notable members of the acting community like Jonathan Frakes and his wife Genie. Micheal Dorn and his date. There were too many coming for me to cook the food alone and be at the party. So, we hired a catering crew. Not to cater, I bought the food, but I was supervising the preparation. I was finishing my year at the Le Cordon Bleu and I was going to be a chef. I insisted we use my provisions. And no matter what, I had it all down. I knew what needed to be done first and what should be done when and what was next. All my ingredients were just as I always put them. Fresh, no hormones and organically raised produce and meats and no process. I didn’t realize I was being watched. And the dinner went off perfectly. I was following everyone working, telling them what to check and when. Receiving “Yes, Chef.” From the line. Everything was hot, cooked correctly and was told it was delicious. It was at the end of the party I was approached.

“You did beautifully tonight, Mr. Richards.” The woman, elegant, short blonde hair. She stuck her hand out. “Maxine O’Neil. I’m with Lee Majors.” She pointed. Everyone knew Lee Majors. “Tell me. Can you do that all the time?”

I looked at her confused. “Do what?”

“Stay tuned with a production line. Keep the dishes fresh and scheduled so that it comes to the table ready to eat.”

I grinned. “It’s not hard. You just keep in mind what’s cooking and keep in mind what needs to be done, when so it all comes out at the right time.”

“It’s much harder than you say.” Maxine corrected with a light laugh.

I nodded, in agreement. “I suppose. But these recipes I know backward and forwards. I can do it in my head.”

“But you’re a chef?”

“I will be in May. I’m finishing the Le Cordon Bleu in Los Angeles then.”

“And then? What is your dream?” She asked.

I had thought of that a while. “Open a restaurant. A healthy food restaurant.”

Her eyes widened. “Health food? In L.A? They are a dime a dozen.”

I chuckled at the reaction I always seemed to get. “Not Health food. Healthy food. What you ate tonight was healthy food. Carefully raised poultry, fresh organically raised spices. I wouldn’t give Health Food a try. I’m concerned with what and how the chickens were raised. No hormones, no preservatives or additives. The same with the produce, no chemical agents used to preserve or pest controlled. I make all the condiments. That’s why Matt hired me. I keep him healthy and in shape.”

She gave a smile and a slight nod. “I wondered what you were doing here.”

“No one knows nutrition as I do.” I bragged a bit. “It’s was my family’s business. We raised and sold herbs, spices, and cures. All organically raised.”

She gave another appraising nod. “I have a restaurant. It’s failing.” She began bluntly. “I need someone that knows what he’s doing in charge. If I gave you control. Let you change the menu, do what you want. Could you do what you did here, there?” She motioned to what she has seen here. “What I saw was organized and well thought out. You kept on top of every cook and lineman. Could you do that? Would you do that?”

I was stunned by the offer. “I haven’t finished school.”

She laughed. “You will.” Then she placed her hand on my arm. “Just come and take a look. See what they’re doing and tell me what the place needs. See if you can pick out where the problems are. Advice would be great if you didn’t want the job.”

“My first priority is Matt. He’s the one that hired me. I’ll talk to him.” But I was really tempted.

Matt grinned when I told him as we were getting ready for bed. “That’s great! That’s what you’ve always dreamed of!”

I stretched out on the bed beside him. “But I don’t want to be away that much.” I know I sounded pathetic.

“Isn’t that what you wanted?” Matt asked. “Maxine is giving you carte blanc over her restaurant. Basically, it would be your restaurant.” He rolled closer to me. “She got the restaurant in her divorce. It’s in a great location, but not very popular. I think her husband started it as a dodge.”

“How do I cook for you, Dillon and Mark, keep the house and run a business? It will take all my time. I won’t see you.”

Matt’s face softened. “I’ll always be around.” He smiled slowly. “You know I’m never letting you go. But this is something you’ve worked for. I won’t let you just let it just pass. You’re an amazing person, Eric. You can do things, make it look so simple, that I would never attempt to even try.” Then he got a very serious look. “You saved my life.”

I looked at him in doubt. “You were doing fine.”

“I wasn’t and you saw that. A teenager saw it and forced me to look at things I was doing and told me it was you or the drugs.” Matt argued softly. “You…and your family stood by me, supported me. Mainly, you. You keep me sane. You took a little boy in and kept at him until he recovered from Mom’s stupidity. Then my brother.” He leaned in kissing me softly. “Now, you have the opportunity to branch out and do what you’ve always wanted to. Well, whatever you decide. I’ll be in your corner. Okay?” He assured. “I love you.”

The lovable son of a bitch. He did love me. And I adored him. “I’ll think about it.” I chuckled. “Here I’ve got that hot Calvin Klein model in bed with me.”

Matt’s eyebrows waggled. “And here I’m not wearing anything now.” He lifted the covers to prove it. “Naked as the day I was born.”

I chuckled and slipped my shorts off. “Now, we’re even.”

I loved Matt and I loved that we no longer had to try to be comfortable with each other. We just fit.

 

I did go to Petite Roma, the restaurant. It was a good location, right off the beach, below the Santa Monica Pier where Ocean became Neilson. And almost no guests were there. I looked at the clock. It was nearly dinner time. I saw two tables occupied. I walked toward the back. It wasn’t a bad place, furnishings wise. The carpet needed cleaning, some of the lighting fixtures needed repair. The hostess came over. A cute girl, maybe eighteen.

“Seating for one?” She asked bringing up a menu.

“No,” I said. “I may be working here. Have you spoken to Maxine today?”

“Who?” The girl asked.

“Maxine O’Neil. The owner?” I asked. How could she not know that?

She looked puzzled. “Maybe she told Jerry. Come on.” She waved me to follow. Entering the kitchen, I nearly walked out. Jerry was in his late thirties and busy doing nothing. He was the chef according to what I saw on his uniform. A girl was doing her nails and chewing gum. Another girl was reading a book. I knew one other server was out dealing with the few guests here. “Jerry, this is….” She turned to me. “What is your name?”

“Eric Richards.”

She nodded. “Eric Richards, he might be working with us. Did Maxine O’Neil tell you?”

He grunted. “Yeah, she called. I didn’t expect you so soon.” He looked at me noncommittal. “She said you wanted to be a chef?”

I nodded. This was going to be tricky. I didn’t want to tell him I was the new chef.

“We’re not busy now. Wait a few hours.”

That busy time never came. I watched the servers bring tickets, Jerry cooked it and sent it out. The man’s passion was gone. None of the servers seemed to care. The only one there that looked like she was doing a job was the hostess. Tiffany. Senior in high school, but she was always looking for something to do. Arranging the menus, wrapping clean silverware. I looked in the refrigerator and noticed violation after violation. I went in the freezer and found many cellophane wrapped containers of chickens that had been cooked, marinara and sauces. But also I noticed grime. Grime that had been left on the floors and walls. This would take some time. There were other violations all over! Everything would have to change. But Jerry was about to send a dish out I knew was overcooked.

“Would you eat that?” I asked him privately.

“No,” Jerry answered.

“Then why the hell are you sending it to a paying guest!?” I shouted. “You know? When Maxine said she had a restaurant that was failing. Now I know why. You have no passion! It’s gone. Why?”

“There’s no point!” Jerry shouted. “Things I suggested, ideas were thrown out. Peter didn’t want the changes.”

“Peter isn’t the owner now. Maxine is. Have you told your suggestions to Maxine?”

“She’s nothing but a Hollywood wife. She doesn’t give a damn about this place.” Jerry argued.

“So, she asked me to come for nothing? I’d say that proves that she does give a damn.” I asked. “She has a business she wants to become a success if for no reason other than losing money.”

“Who are you?” Jerry asked. “Who are you really?”

I took a deep breath. “I work for Matt Stryker. I am his nutritionist and personal assistant. I did dinner the other night and she saw what I can do.”

“You work for Matt Stryker?” His eyes grew. “You did a dinner party? For how many?”

“About forty,” I answered. “But I had it organized and every dish was hot and fresh.”

“What did you serve?” Jerry was now interested. He did love food.

“I served Cornish Game Hens. Blackberry glaze.”

Jerry nodded. “That takes timing.”

I nodded. “It does. But I had it under control. I knew what to start when so all would come out at the right time.”

“They aren’t the hardest birds to cook. But hard to cook well.” Jerry nodded. “And you’re a chef.”

“I finish at the Le Cordon Bleu in May,” I admitted. “But I’ve been a cook for over ten years.”

“What’s your specialty?”

“I cook healthy foods. I don’t mean Health Foods, I mean cooking foods healthy. Organically raised herbs, spices, and no chemicals. I do the same with the main dish, as in chickens, beef… I have recipes for all of it. My parents owned and run a store that makes and raises all.” I looked at Jerry. “I don’t understand. An Italian restaurant in L.A. is okay, but Little Rome is not. It seems like you've given up.”

“I was fighting the tides!” Jerry complained. “Peter is from New York. He fell in love with Little Italy and their wonderful food. But really, it seemed he did it for other reasons.”

I nodded. “Well, it stops now. First, who the hell is that woman doing her nails?”

“Cindy. She is Peter’s niece.”

“Tomorrow she spits that awful gum out and no nail polish when serving food!” I stated. “And the chick with the book….really? I’m taking the job, and the first thing is, this place is going to close a few days. And we’re going over this place. Throwing out all that shit in the fridge and freezer. This place will be cleaned from top to bottom. This place will be what it's supposed to be. I know who to call.”

 

When I got home, Matt waited up.

“Well?” He asked as I sat on the bed to take my shoes off.

I sighed. “It’s a dive. I don’t know what Peter O’Neil was doing. But we’re closing down and I’m getting her cleaned. I’m calling Mary.”

His eyes widened. “Why?”

“Because she’s the best in design. She can come up with the best look for the restaurant. She’s won awards for her designs. I trust her eye.” I grinned at him. “Don’t want to share a house with your ex-wife?”

“I do it every July 4^th and Thanksgiving, Christmas some times.” Matt shrugged. “We have a guest room.”’

I nodded. “We do. I’ve got a lot to do.”

Matt grinned. “And you’re loving every minute. I can tell.”

I nodded leaning back inches from his face. “This will take an investment. I mean, us.”

Matt nodded with a shrug. “Sure it will.” Then his lips pressed to mine. “It’s our money. So invest.”

“I love you.”

He grinned. “Yeah, I know. I love you.”

My arms wrapped around him. “I know.”

 

The next day I went into the restaurant with Maxine. She loved that I took it as sincerely as I did. The restaurant was closed, but the staff didn’t know that until I arrived.

“Okay, people. This is Eric Richards. He’s your new boss.” Maxine announced to the amazement of all there.

“He’s my age!” The girl with the book objected.

“And?” Maxine asked. “He does wonders in the kitchen. But if anyone has an objection…” Maxine motioned to the front. “There’s the door.” Then she looked at everyone severely. “He is my voice here. So if he said to do it, do it.”

I stepped forward. “First. We are cleaning this place from top to bottom. We’re going to purge all that crap in the fridge and freezer. We’re scrubbing the walls, floors and getting this place ready for inspection. What I saw where violations. Meat above salads….wrong. We’re going over everything. And from now on, no nail polish when serving food. No chewing gum, no books. The only one of you I saw being productive was Tiffany. Jerry lost his passion, but I think that will change. He has ideas. I want to hear them. This is no longer Petite Roma. I have a top designer coming here and she and I will be going over this place to make it attractive and inviting. I want this to be a place people will want to come.”

I will admit it was a weird feeling meeting Aunt Mary at the airport. But she’d been flown out first class and she hadn’t paid for it.

Getting her in the car. “I will admit. I didn’t expect this.” Mary confessed to me.

I glanced at her. “Why? You’re the best designer in the South. Probably on the East Coast. I’ve seen your work.”

“I didn’t think I was your favorite person,” Mary confessed again.

I looked at her surprised. “You’ve pissed me off many times, but I knew you. Hell, I get pissed off at a lot of people. That doesn’t mean I don’t like them. I love you. But if you ever sleep with my boyfriend again. I’m done.”

She laughed at that. “I don’t believe you have anything to worry about. Matt’s totally in love with you.” Then she got a sly look. “Now, Mark…”

“Is a grown man, unattached and can make his own decisions. He’s been hurt before, so be easy with him.”

Mary nodded. “Got it. But he’s got this….bad boy attraction, but he really isn’t…ya know?”

“Of course, should you decide to marry this Stryker. You become an instant mother.” I reminded.

Mary bit her lip. “Oh, that’s right. I’m not mother material.”

“What are you talking about? I think you’d make an excellent mother. One day.”

Mary grinned at that. “Nicely put.” Then she shook her head. “I’m not ready to be tied down.”

I shrugged. “So don’t be.”

When we pulled into the driveway, she shook her head looking at the house. “I missed out on this one.”

I grinned. “Yeah, you did.” Then I leaned in. “I have a Loggia. I never knew what that was!”

Mary laughed. “Fancy name for a hallway looking off to a lower floor.” She took my arm. “Now show me around.”

Matt came in as I was showing her the room Matt and I shared. “Mary.” He greeted. Things were better than they had been but still stiff. Complete with the air kiss from both. “I hope you had a nice trip.”

Mary smiled. “A first-class trip to Beverly Hills. Yes, you could say it was nice.”

I groaned and rolled my eyes. “Aw, come on, you guys! What happened is in the past. Can we at least be friends? Not to mention family.”

Both of them agreed to try.

 

Mary walked into the restaurant and her eyes narrowed. “When’s the funeral?”

I nodded. “It’s so….”

“Heavy. Dark.” Mary finished. “This is California! Santa Monica! The beach!” She pointed toward a window that would be facing the beach. The heavy red draperies covered the window and no beach could be seen. “This place needs light!” Within two days she had the whole place redone…on paper. Now came the reconstruction. I had agreed to pay for it if I were given a portion of the profits. With my investment, I was getting part ownership. Of course, Matt didn’t object. He was behind the whole thing. Jerry and I went and changed the whole menu. There were fewer selections but all were as I had wanted. These were traditional choices, but healthy. Jerry looked up and his eyes grew when he saw someone come in.

“Is that your boss?” Jerry asked hoping.

Matt had promised not to come until opening night. I looked up. “No, that’s his brother, Mark. He’s visiting my Aunt.”

Jerry looked confused. “Your Aunt?”

I pointed at Mary who was arguing with someone on the phone. “Mary Sams is my mother’s little sister.” I grinned. “Guess he’ll be able to make bubbles now.”

“Huh?” Jerry asked.

“Inside joke.” I shook my head.

“But Matt Stryker will be here opening night, right?” Jerry asked.

I nodded. “He and a few others. But we need to get the word out. I would like us to offer samples on the beach. Let people know who we are and where we are.”

“So, who all is coming?”

Normally I didn’t tell people I was with Matt unless the situation called for it. Jerry seemed more excited about celebrity visits than anything else. “Don’t tell me you've never seen a celebrity. In L.A!?”

“In the distance, yes, but up close. Talk to them?”

“Cook for them?” I said. “That’s what you’ll be doing. These big names will be eating what you make.”

Now Jerry looked panicked. “Then I have to do my best.”

I grinned. “Start with paying attention.”

“Pay attention. Right.”

I liked Jerry.

 

The name was changed to “To Your Health West.” What surprised me was Matt wanted to help. He volunteered to pass out samples on Santa Monica’s Pier and Beach. So did Mark. He had shaped up since moving in and I hate to admit it, being blonde and tanned now, he was the perfect California Beach Boy. Even Mary volunteered.

Matt walked out of our closet. He was dressed in shorts and a loose shirt. “Are you attracted by this?” He asked.

“And half the beach will be if not all.” I smiled back.

He shrugged. “Sex sells!”

I walked over to him. “It does.” I hugged the man.

He gave me a smirky grin. “I expected a comeback.”

“What you’re doing today.” I began. “Thank you.”

“That wasn’t what I had in mind.” Matt then got a serious look. “Anything I can do for you is not too much to ask. If my showing up means you get a good send off, I’ll do it.” He shrugged. “You win. We both win.”

We kissed.

“You keep watching the video with the song Looking for a Hero,” Matt observed.

“Because you’re so sexy in it.” I smiled.

“You are sexy. You’re my hero.” The way he said it. So sincere and heartfelt. “I love you, Eric.”

“We may be getting a late start.” I took his hand and led him to the bed. “But I think I can reward you a little now. I love you, Matt.”

 

We got there just as things were to start. Aunt Mary looked tempting in her bikini as that lose wrap-around thing women sometimes wore. Even Mark looked great in his shorts and t-shirt. Even Dillon was there.

“You’re late.” Mary fussed as Matt and I walked up.

Mark grinned. “Bubbles?”

“You better believe it.” Matt grinned. Only now Matt and I were just pals as far as the world could see.

But Aunt Mary didn’t understand. “Bubbles?” Mark leaned in and whispered. “Oh, bubbles.” She nodded, now understanding. Then she frowned. “It figures, the best bubble making would be these guys.”

Dillon was getting frustrated after hearing and not understanding again. “What bubbles!?”

I walked over to Dillon. “I’ll tell you. My family always told me about things. I think you’re old enough. But understand, this is very adult. We were using the word bubble in the place of what it really is.”

Matt knelt beside Dillon. “When adults love one another, they have sex. Or as we call it making love. But some people don’t understand when…well, they think Eric and I should not be having sex. Because we shouldn’t love each other. But we do.”

“And this is so very important, Dillon,” I said as serious as I could. “Matt won’t be able to make the movies he does or TV. We could lose the house, cars and it would be very bad if everyone found out. No one is to know that your Uncle and I are making bubbles.” I grinned at him.

His brow furrowed more. “I don’t understand.” But then he went on. “Why shouldn’t Uncle Matt and Uncle Eric make bubbles?”

I grinned realizing he got part of it because he used the word his father gave him to stand for sex. “There are people that won’t understand.”

Matt grimaced. “Your Meme was someone who didn’t understand it. Because of that, I wasn’t there when you were born. She didn’t think Eric and I should make bubbles.”

“That’s silly.” Dillon determined in the marvelous mind of a first grader.

Matt and I nodded. Mark bent by his son. “You’re right. It is silly but very, very important to keep a secret. No one is to know. Understand? I know, it’s hard to understand. One day, you’ll find someone that you will want to make bubbles with and it will be the greatest thing ever. It’s how we are as humans. No one is to know. I know, Aunt Mary knows, all of Eric’s family knows…” he held up a hand as he knew I’d object. “I know. They’re our new family. They all know. No one else. Understood?”

Dillon nodded readily. “Sure.”

Matt stroked Dillon’s head. “Good man.” Then he clapped his hands. “Let’s get To Your Health started. We have a public to inform.”

I wondered about Jerry Blakely. He might have been gay. I don’t know, but he was in love with Matt. Or should I say, he was in love with Matt’s characters. Jerry would become all tongue tied when Matt came over. Flustered. Then that last time, I grabbed Matt’s arm.

“Freeze,” I commanded to Matt, who’s eyes grew when I did that. “Enough already. Jerry Blakely. This is Matt Stryker. Matt, Jerry. Matt is not an undercover spy in the mob. He’s not a scarred man on the edge solving crimes. Those are characters. This man is irritating at times, never picks his socks off the floor. He snores, gets bad breath, stinks at times, burps, farts just like the rest of humanity.” Matt began to frown when I started listing his flaws.

“Hey!” Matt began.

“Save it, Matt. I’m doing it for a reason. He’s a man. Plain and simple. Not a god or demi-god. Stop being so skittish around him. Or we’ll be in big trouble when his co-stars and others come Sunday night. Lee Majors is coming, William Shatner, Heather Locklair, Jonathan Frakes and Genie Francis. There are others, but I don’t want you to be unable to function.” I turned to Matt. “Do something,” I said to Matt.

“Like what?” Matt asked.

I shook my head. “I don’t know, fart for the man.”

Matt growled. “I can’t just dredge one up. Can I get back to you on that?”

It didn’t stop me. “My daddy told me something that’s better than imaging people in their underwear. It works for everyone.” I ignored Matt’s fuming. “Dad said to imagine these people doing the most basic thing a human can do. So, I imagine them taking a huge dump. Groaning to get it out. If you do that. They’ll never be as grand as you thought.”

Jerry seemed to relax a bit. “It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Stryker.” He stuck out his hand. “You don’t have to fart.”

Matt shook the hand. “Thanks. It’s nice to meet you.” Then turned to me. “But you, I can do without at times.”

I huffed. “You’d be lost without me. By your own admission, you can’t boil water.”

“I’ll suffer.” Matt gripped.

“You’d weigh three hundred pounds,” I replied. “You’d know every Jack In The Box in the city. I know you.”

Matt groaned. “You can be such a pain in the ass, you know that?”

“And that’s what you pay me for,” I stated. “Do you think that look you have just happens?”

Matt rolled his eyes and moved on.

“Wow,” Jerry commented. “You two were pretty rough.”

“He’s a big boy.” The truth was, I loved our antics. He could come up with some good zingers. It was a few minutes later when Matt stopped me.

“I never leave socks on the floor.”

I smiled at Matt. “I know that. But Jerry was so star struck. I had to come up with a way to make you more human. It worked.”

“Do I snore?” Matt asked.

“I love you.” I smiled at him. and didn't answer his question.