Behaving Responsibly - 8. Family Ties

My jaw dropped. “Goddamn, Teddy! The sonofabitch was fucking you! I can’t fucking believe it! How the hell did that happen?”

“I don’t exactly know.” My brother shrugged. “I mean, I guess one thing led to another.”

“Please tell me this was the first time you ever did it.”

My brother lifted his head and gazed out the window in silence.

“Oh, shit, Teddy. What the fuck?”

As he turned to face me, his face was beet red and his voice quavered. “I...I’m not—”

Seeing how embarrassed he was, I tried my best to calm him down.

“Listen, Teddy, I’m your goddamn brother, and I’m fucking on your side, no matter what the hell you do or what happens. Not everything in the world is black or white, yes or no, this or that.”

I put my hands on his shoulders. “But one thing will always be true—you can tell me any shit that happens, and I’ll always be here for you.”

Teddy looked me in the eye, judging whether or not he should trust me. He swallowed hard and bowed his head.

“Bobby, I’ve always...swung both ways. Sue Ann and I had great sex, and I was totally into it. Sometimes, she would stick her finger in my ass and hit some spot in there that always made me shoot my load right away. One day she used her dildo, and it sent me to the fuckin moon.”

He stopped and spoke softly with his head bowed. “But I also fooled around with guys occasionally, including some on our football team.”

“On the team? What the fuck, Teddy? They’re all my friends, and my brother was hooking up with them. Goddamn!” I glared at him. “Who?”

He shook his head with grim determination. “I’m not gonna say shit, Bobby. I told them I’d never tell anybody, and I won’t. And they didn't want anybody to know, either.”

“Did you let them fuck you or just give them blowjobs?”

“What goddamn difference does it make? We fooled around, and I got them off. That’s all I’m gonna fuckin say.”

“Them? So it was definitely more than one?”

He growled, “That’s what the goddamn word means.”

“And I guess it also means more than one time—”

“Goddammit, Bobby, I told you—I’m not saying shit about it. Now I’m sorry I even told you.” He looked up at me with tears in his eyes and accused me, “So you weren’t fuckin telling the truth when you said I could tell you anything.”

That stopped me cold. Here I was, giving my brother the third degree while he sat and cried. He deserved better, and I was wrong not to give it to him.

My voice softened. “Does Sue Ann know about...them?”

“She knows I fool around some, but she never asked who with or how many times.”

“And she’s OK with it?”

He wiped his eyes and gave me a piercing stare. “She says she loves me, no matter what or who I am, so she doesn’t need the details. She just wants me to be happy—and safe.”

“And are you?” I swallowed. “Happy and safe?”

“You know I’m safe because you bought rubbers with me.”

“And happy?”

He looked at me without speaking for a long time. Finally, he simply said, “I guess so.” He looked out the bedroom window. “I mean, I’m enjoying it while I’m doing it—”

“And afterward?”

“I dunno. I don’t think about it much. Shit, Bobby, it’s just something that happens, and then it’s over.”

I sighed with confusion. “But you’re still with Sue Ann. Do you love her?”

“We love each other.”

“So you’re not gay—you’re what?”

“I don’t fuckin know. Labels don’t mean shit now that this has happened.” He choked and sobbed. “I completely fucked up, Bro. And Dad found out everything.”

I put my arm around his shoulder and hugged him to me. He started full-on crying, and I held him. Gay, straight, or whatever the fuck, he was my brother, and I loved him—and I always would, no matter what.

After he calmed down, I handed him a box of tissues. He blew his nose loudly and wiped his eyes.

I let go and shifted to face him. “Listen, so you made a mistake. It showed bad judgment, but hell, you’re seventeen years old. You’re not famous for making brilliant decisions.”

He sniffled and chuckled, “Fuck you.”

“Watch it, Bro. Those words have a whole new meaning now.” We both burst out laughing.

I gave his shoulder another squeeze. “Teddy, you were lucky and unlucky.”

“How the fuck do you figure that?”

“Unlucky, because if you’d gone to the guy’s apartment like he asked, no one would have known about this.”

“How is that fuckin unlucky? I didn’t go because I was afraid the guy might try to kill me or something.”

“He’d have to be awful goddamn strong, considering your size and all the strength training you’ve had. You would’ve kicked his sorry ass if he got out of line.”

“Fucking-A I would!” He thought a moment. “Too fuckin late for that now. And what about how I’m lucky?”

“Well, now Dad knows, and I know, so we can support you and make sure everybody sees we don’t give a shit about what happened.”

“You think Dad supports me? He hasn’t said ten words to me since we got back from the lawyer.”

“He’s having a hard time taking it all in, but never doubt that he loves you. He needs some time to wrap his head around this shit.”

“And what about you?”

I shook my head. “Believe it or not, I just went through a similar situation at the base.”

His eyebrows shot up. “You mean you got caught with a dick up your ass?”

I laughed out loud. “Fuck, no, but I needed to face up to the reality of homosexuality, where before, it was mostly a concept or something other people had to deal with.”

I swallowed and tried to steady myself. Retelling the story of Larry Andersen was damn hard to do.

“One of my men was arrested and charged—under military law, not as a juvenile.” I grew solemn, and my voice cracked. “He...took his own life.”

“Oh, shit, Bobby! I’m sorry.”

“Me, too.” I sighed. “I did everything I could for him, but it didn’t work out. The fucking deck was stacked against him from the get-go.”

This time, Teddy put his arm around me. “Are you all right, Bro?”

I nodded silently and shuddered at the thought of Andersen committing suicide because I couldn’t convince my superiors to go easy on him. Other men did the same thing he did and got away with a slap on the wrist.

Looking my brother squarely in the eye, I assured him, “Shit happens, Teddy, and we have to go on living, no matter how hard it is, or how much you’d like to undo what you did.”

I thought long and hard before I continued. “And I...well, I kinda know from experience.”

“Shit! Whadda you mean, Bro?”

He fucking told me his shit, so why should I keep mine a secret from him? We’re brothers, and we’ve got each other’s backs.

With a sigh, I said, “You know my pal, Brian?”

“Brian Starr, the basketball jock? Yeah. He’s a cool dude.”

I leaned in close to him and lowered my voice. “Well, he and I—, we kinda— fooled around a bit when we were freshmen.”

“You mean ‘fooled around’ or ‘hooked up?’ ”

“Uh, it started out with jacking off together. Both his parents work, so we were at his house alone most days when there wasn’t football or basketball practice.”

He laughed, “That can’t be very many goddamn days!”

“No, you’re right. It wasn’t. But we found enough times to do it. It kinda became ‘a thing’ for us to do when we were alone like that.”

“So you jacked off. Big fuckin deal compared to what I did.”

I got annoyed. “Will you just fucking listen to me and keep your goddamn mouth shut ’til I’m done?”

He nodded, so I continued. “Well, at first we just jacked ourselves, but then—” I looked to see the expression on his face, but he gave no clue as to what he was thinking.

I sighed again. “We started helping each other out.”

Teddy nodded in understanding, but the look on his face was saying, “So what? That’s still no big deal.”

“So, one day he surprised the shit out of me by leaning down and—” My throat tightened and I was unable to speak the next words.

“Putting his mouth on your dick?”

I nodded, my face crimson. “Yeah. He blew me. And then he started doing it every time we were there.”

“And—”

“Goddammit, Teddy, will you let me tell my own fucking story?”

He grinned. “Sure, Bro. It’s just that it’s so familiar I could tell it for you.”

“Well, fucking don’t.” I took a deep breath. “And so, one day, he asked me to fuck him...and I did.”

My brother didn’t say a word. He just looked at me knowingly.

“—And it was OK. It got me off. But I knew it was wrong—”

“Bullshit! Why the fuck is it wrong? You’re just two guys helping each other out. Did you fall in love with Brian?”

“Fuck, no!” I bowed my head to hide my embarrassment, even though he didn’t seem to be taking this as seriously as I did. “But we did it a whole bunch of times.”

Teddy put an arm across my shoulders. “Then, Bro, it was just something a lot of guys do.”

He paused, as if decided whether to ask the obvious question. “Did you ever let him fuck you?”

I quickly shook my head. “Fuck, no. It was kinda one-sided, and that bothered me. It was like I was using him to get off.”

“But he liked it. He wanted you to do it, and it was his goddamn idea, right?”

“Yeah, I guess so.”

“So, you became friends who fucked. But you were still friends everywhere else, too. And nobody knew what you did in private. Sounds perfect to me. How the fuck did it end?”

“Well, one day I just said I didn’t want to do it any more. He looked surprised, but he said he was OK with that, and we went back to just being best friends. But we never jacked off or did anything sexual again.”

Teddy straightened, and he got a knowing look on his face. “Bobby, there’s a fuckin name for what you two did.”

“There is?” I was incredulous.

“Damn straight. You experimented.” He let the word sink in. “You tried some forbidden shit. If you’d have gotten caught, it would’ve been a big deal. All that, plus getting your nut, made it into something exciting and dangerous. Right?”

I could only nod. My face was burning with shame.

“So, you did something that plenty of other guys do at that age. You tried it.”

He put a hand on my shoulder to comfort me. “You liked it, but you felt guilty about doing it, so you stopped, right?”

I nodded again. I felt a tear forming in the corner of one eye, so I looked away.

“Bobby, it’s OK. It’s not a big fuckin deal. You two experimented, and you’re still friends. Did you ever do it with any other guy?”

“Hell, no! Angie came into my life, and we started making love every chance we got.”

“So that’s all it was—you experimented, and that was the end of it. You’re a straight guy who tried some gay sex with your best friend and figured out you preferred girls.”

We sat in silence for a while. Then he said quietly, “So, do you think Brian was in love with you?”

I jerked upright. “Fuck! I never thought about that. How the hell would I know? It was just sex.”

My brother pursed his lips. “For you, yes. For Brian, it could have been something much more.”

“Where do you get that bullshit?”

“He initiated everything—he jerked you off, he blew you, and he asked you to fuck him.”

“And I just went along with all that shit.” I shook my head in dismay at the realization.

“Is that all? You said you enjoyed it. Weren’t you thinking it was a damn good thing you had a best friend who was meeting your sexual needs—and nobody knew about it?”

“Fuck! You’re making me sound like I was taking advantage of him or exploiting his love—”

He smiled triumphantly. “LOVE! You just nailed it, Bro. I’d bet my ass Brian was in love with you, and he figured the way to keep you close was to let you fuck him. What kid your age wouldn’t want to do that?”

“So—what the fuck are you leading up to?”

He looked somber. “Well, maybe you broke his heart when you made him stop.”

“No fucking way! He agreed. We both decided to stop.”

“Or—he was afraid you’d tell on him, so he went along with it, even though he didn’t want to.”

“Goddamn, Teddy. You’re making me out as a monster, a pervert, some kinda bastard who uses another person to get his rocks off.”

“Hell, no, Bobby! I’m just looking at it from his point of view.”

“And your own?”

He pondered that for a moment. “Well, yeah, I guess so. It’s just that I can understand his side of the relationship.”

I was stunned. “Brian and I never had a ‘relationship’—did we?”

“You’d have to ask him what he thinks, but it seems pretty goddamn like one to me.”

“I don’t think I could bring it up or talk to him about it, and I don’t think he’d want to, either.”

“Maybe you’re right, but just keep it in the back of your mind, in case some day he does mention it.”

We sat in silence a while. Then, Teddy reached into his pocket and pulled out his cigarettes and offered me one. “Like Dad said, we’re three smokers now.”

I shook my head at the offer. “True, but Dad still doesn’t want us smoking in the house. Let’s go outside.”

“Dad there?”

“On the patio with his old buddy Jack Daniel’s.”

“Let’s pick up two more glasses and join him.”

A few moments later, the three men of the family sat around the picnic table, smoking and sipping Jack and Coke. The air was thick with unspoken words, and I could feel my family’s tension and fear.

Dad broke the silence ruefully. “I’m glad your mother isn’t here now.”

Teddy burst into tears. “I’m so sorry, Dad. I’m so fuckin sorry.”

I reached over and put a comforting hand on my brother’s shoulder, glaring at our father. “That’s bullshit, Dad, and you know it. Mom’d be all over us with love and sympathy.”

His shaky sigh turned into a cough. “Dammit, you’re right, Bobby. I’m sorry, Teddy, I’m not handling this too well.”

“None of us is, Dad,” I told him. “But we’re gonna make it work. We have to. We’re family.”

He shook his head sadly. “I should have stopped you boys from having sex, right from the start. You were way too young.”

I disagreed. “Wrong again, Dad. First of all, we were the same age as everybody else who was doing it. And second, you couldn’t have stopped us if you tried. We would have snuck around and done it anyway.”

“I guess that’s true.”

“You gave us the information we needed to be safe. You told us to behave responsibly. You met our girlfriends and were friendly toward them. No father would have—or probably could have—done as much as you did to show us you loved us and gave a shit about what happened to us.”

My brother’s head shot up. “That’s true, Dad. You did the right things. I’m the one who fucked it all up.”

I turned and snapped at my brother. “Goddammit, Teddy, that shit stops right now!”

I put a hand on his shoulder. “Nobody fucked up—not Dad, not you. Life fucking happens, and we’re not immune to the kind of shit that happens to everyone else. We’re a goddamn family, and we love each other, so we stick together, no matter what the fuck goes on around us!”

I took a long drag on my cigarette, washed it down with a swig of my drink, and straightened my back. Hell, I was acting like the fucking Flight Leader of my own goddamn family!

I looked from one to the other. “Now listen to me, both of you. This isn’t the goddamn end of the world.”

I turned to my father. “Dad, you’re gonna go to work tomorrow and accept the concern and sympathy of all those people you work with who care about you and your family. Just like when Mom died, they’re gonna stand by you, and you’re gonna let them. And if they don’t, then they can to go to hell!”

Turning to my little brother, I said, “And Teddy, you’re gonna go back to the goddamn library and study your particular physics, or whatever the hell it is. If you run into that asshole again, ignore him. You’re going to start school in a couple of weeks, and anybody who’s got a problem with your sex life can go fuck themselves.”

Addressing both of them, I stated, “This family is strong. We stick together. We’ve got each other’s backs, and the rest of the goddamn world can go to hell, as far as we care.”

I looked from one to the other. “Anyone have anything else to say?”

After a brief silence, Dad spoke up. “Yes.” I held my breath.

Facing Teddy, he said, “Son, I love you, and I care about everything that happens to you. This direction you’ve gone in is...hard for me to understand, but I want you to believe I accept it, and I accept you, just as you are. But please don’t bring any boyfriends home to Sunday dinner.”

Teddy and I sat in stunned silence until Dad grinned and we all enjoyed a tension-relieving laugh.

Then he turned to me. “And remember, Bobby. I’m still the Dad here, so don’t go getting any ideas that you’re running this family now. And besides...I outrank you.” He broke into a wide smile and I nodded.

And, to my everlasting surprise, that’s how it worked out. Dad never said another word about Teddy’s sex life (or mine, for that matter), and Teddy quickly learned to be discreet with his hook-ups.

As for the physics guy from the lab, he went to jail for corruption of a minor and sodomy. I heard he got ten years. I tried to feel sorry for him, but considering what he did to my brother, I couldn’t.

I caught a flight back to Lackland the next afternoon and resumed my duties as Flight Leader. A couple of guys gave me funny looks, but one frown from me told them to shove it up their asses.

The final two weeks of Basic Training flew by. I had a shitload of exams—physical and mental—and I did my usual best on them. The thirty-six hour wilderness battle simulation that we called “The Beast” lived up to its name, but we all made it through.

I called Angie back one day, and we agreed to be friends for now. The conversation was short—there was nothing more to say, and I didn’t want to open the wounds again.

I also phoned Teddy, and we talked about the elephant in the room. He assured me he was OK and was more determined than ever to ace his advanced classes. A few of his friends told him they were cool with what happened.

On graduation day, Dad was there in full dress uniform, and Teddy wore a blue suit in my honor. I led the parade of newly-commissioned Airmen Third Class, proudly wearing my two stripes showing I was one rank above them.

General Wright gave the expected speech, and the local Congressman said a bunch of bullshit about how important we were to winning the war in Vietnam, which he mispronounced as Veet-nam (rhymes with damn). When medals were given out, I got three: marksmanship, physical training, and leadership.

At lunch in a restaurant with a view of the Alamo, my family never felt closer.

We took an outdoor table so we could smoke, and Dad ordered beers for all of us. The waiter eyed Teddy suspiciously but decided it wouldn’t be wise to challenge the senior officer wearing a command uniform. Lackland AFB was a primary source of income for many local businesses.

“So what’s next, Bro?” Teddy inquired.

“I couldn’t say anything before, but I’m not coming home for a while.”

“What the fuck? Why?”

I turned to Dad. He nodded in understanding. To Teddy, I said, “I’m staying here at Lackland for more training and learning how to load fucking bombs onto B-52s and other big-assed planes. I’ll be leading my team.”

Dad spoke, surprised at my announcement. “They’re going to make you an Airman First Class?”

“Maybe, but not right away. I’ve gotta prove I can lead—all over again!”

“Congratulations, Son. I’m sure you’ll do fine.”

“Does that mean you’ll stay Stateside after the training?” Teddy asked hopefully.

“Just the opposite. I’ll be somewhere over there, probably at a forward airbase, bossing a crew of airmen and locals.”

“Forward airbase?” Teddy worried. “It means they’ll be fuckin shooting at you.”

“It’s not that far forward, but there’s always a chance of some shit flying in at us.”

“Can you at least tell us what country you’ll be in?”

The colonel cleared his throat. “Teddy, you know better than to ask.”

I answered Teddy with a laugh. “No, I can’t. Like Dad says, it’s classified.” I smiled mischievously. “But there’ll be a shit-ton of one well-known breed of cats around.”

Teddy lit up with understanding. “Like in The King and I?”

“Right on the fucking money, Bro.”

Dad intervened sternly, “And that ends the discussion. Period.”

“Yes, Sir!” we said in unison with grins.

********

The next three months were filled with more of the kind of life I lived as a recruit, except I was housed in better quarters and allowed to sign out of the base in my off time.

Cal was right beside me in the specialized training for servicing bombers. In addition to the B-52s, we were trained on B-36s and B-47s—all of them able to carry heavy loads for long distances. Some of them were capable of delivering the most powerful weapon ever created by mankind.

For two weeks, my entire team was transferred to Los Alamos, New Mexico, where we received classified training on how to load atomic warheads into the bomb bays.

“I sure fuckin hope we never have to do this shit for real,” Cal said one day.

“If we do, we’ll be ready,” I assured him.

“Do you think this goddamn war will ever be over?”

“Not any time soon, Pal. It fucking gets worse all the time.”

Cal shook his head in dismay. “Hell, we’re bombing the shit out of Hanoi, and they keep sending Viet Cong insurgents over the border—and the motherfuckers are capturing more and more territory in the South.”

“That’s what I mean. Something’s got to be done differently if this fucking shitshow is gonna end anytime soon.”

********

The loudspeaker barked, “ASC Stimson, report to HQ.”

When I arrived, an airman directed me to the office of the Air Master Sergeant.

“Son, your Congressman is in town on an inspection tour, and he wants to meet someone from his district.”

“And that means me, Sir?”

“Apparently you’re the only one.”

“It’s not a big district, Sir—”

“Was there a question in there somewhere, Airman?”

“Sir. No, Sir.”

“So haul your ass outta here and go meet the important sonofabitch.”

“Yes, Sir.”

The Honorable Steven J. Prestman, Representative of the Third Congressional District of Tennessee, was tall and lanky in a gray Hermani suit, Ariat cowboy boots, and a ten-gallon hat. He looked more like a movie star from Texas than a redneck from Tennessee, but he met me with a friendly smile and firm handshake.

“Glad to meet you, Airman Second Class Stimson.”

“It’s an honor to meet you, Congressman.”

“I realize I’ve taken you away from your duties, but I’m trying to get a handle on the real story of this war, instead of the bullshit the Defense and State Departments feed us all the time.”

“Well, Sir, I wouldn’t know much about that.”

“Pree–cisely. What I’m looking for is an unbiased opinion from someone closer to the damn action.”

I snorted. “Sir, I’m not allowed to have an opinion, and the only action here is practicing loading bombs into a dummy aircraft. Then we unload them and do it all over again. It’s damn boring, if I may say so.”

Prestman laughed heartily. “Don’t sell yourself short, Bob. Just show me around a bit, and I’ll ask you anything that occurs to me. If you don’t know, or it’s classified, just fucking tell me.”

“All right, Sir.”

“Any way you could call me Steve?”

“No, Sir—at least not on base.”

“So, if I treated you to dinner and drinks, things would be different?”

“I’m still not going to talk about classified shit, Sir.”

“Wouldn’t expect you to. How about we start the tour?”

I showed the congressman the areas of the airbase that weren’t off-limits. He accepted that even a member of the government was not allowed to be in certain places.

His questions were pointed and direct. I did my best to paint everything in a positive light, as I figured I was expected to do, and he did his best to plow through my bullshit and get to the heart of things.

At one point, I complained, “I’m surprised no one from public relations, or congressional relations, or whatever, is here to answer your questions. I’m sure they’d do a better job than me.”

“I specifically refused their help. In fact, I told them ‘Hell, no! I don’t need your namby-pamby ass kissing.’ ” We both laughed.

He was also interested in the accommodations for the personnel on base, which surprised me. I didn’t expect an important decision-maker to give a damn about where we slept or how we ate, but Prestman joined me for lunch in the Enlisted Men's Mess and I introduced the men I work with.

Even Cal was impressed by the man’s openness and honesty. Over an after-lunch smoke, my buddy said, “I never met a fuckin congressman before, but if they’re all like him, I feel a hell of a lot better about the direction this country’s going in.”

“I kind of doubt he’s typical, Pal. In the town I grew up in you couldn’t turn over a rock without finding a government type, and I wouldn’t give you a wooden nickel for the whole fucking bunch of assholes. They never tell the truth, and they do their goddamn best to worm out of you anything they can. I learned to avoid them early on.”

Everything about Prestman affected me. Despite the fake-assed cowboy get-up, he was down-to-earth and understanding. I found myself respecting the man and liking him a little. I was still on my guard, though.

True to his word, he took me out to dinner in San Antonio. He picked a quiet little cantina off the beaten path, so I asked him, “How did you find this place? I’ve never been to this part of town.”

“Oh, I have people who find out things for me. This restaurant comes highly recommended by my colleagues in Congress. The food is excellent, and there’s plenty of privacy.”

He wasn’t wrong about the food. I hadn't been at Lackland for long before I discovered I couldn’t stand the fake Mexican crap called Tex-Mex. Once in a while, I found a place that served the authentic cuisine of the country, and this one was now added to my list of favorites.

Steve—which is what he insisted I start calling him since we were off the base and I was out of uniform—ordered margaritas. They were made with a liquor I never heard of—Mescal—which was a lot stronger than the tequila in the bars Cal and I frequented.

The thing about margaritas is they taste so goddamn good, and they sneak up on you with the alcohol kick. I told Steve I ought to stop after two, but he talked me into having “one for the road.”

As we all but staggered out of the cantina, Steve said, “My hotel is up the street from here. How about we continue the conversation there?”

“As long as you don’t make me drink any more, I guess it’ll be OK.”

I sobered up a bit as we made our way to the hotel and up to his room. My bullshit radar was going off, trying to warn me that something wasn’t quite right.

As we entered the luxury suite, I exclaimed, “Holy shit! Congressmen sure receive the royal treatment around here!”

“Oh, this is way above my per diem allowance, Bob. I spend my own money to upgrade.”

He pointed into the bedroom. “This bed is about ten times the size of your little cot.”

“Yeah, but the cot’s all I need.”

He grinned, “Depends on what you like to do in it.”

I gave him a glare that I hoped told him to shit-can the innuendo, which I assumed was the margaritas talking. I walked over to the wall of windows and gazed out over the city.

I shuddered involuntarily when I realized he was right behind me, and he spoke softly, “I’m glad you like it, Bob.” He put a hand on my shoulder, which made me uncomfortable. I turned away and sat on the couch.

He followed me and sat down next to me. “I’ve been meaning to ask you about something else.”

“Shoot.”

“Well, it’s a bit personal.”

“You can ask, but I don’t promise I’ll answer.”

“Fair enough.” He adjusted his position on the couch so he could face me with one knee up on the cushion.

“Bob, my researcher found out about the business with the recruit who killed himself.”

I inhaled sharply. “Oh. It was a sad situation. I can’t say much about it.”

“You don’t have to. I’ve read the full report. I’m interested in what you recommended, even though they decided to come down hard on him.”

“Steve, to be honest, I’ve put it all behind me. I’m trying to forget the whole goddamn mess and focus on the future.”

“Granted, but would you tell me why you tried to shield him from the full force of the military justice system?”

“I guess I can.” I took a deep breath. “First of all, he didn’t do anything overt. He was accused—actually only suspected—of being...homosexual, but I have to admit that some of the evidence against him was at least marginally believable.”

I looked him in the eye to drive home the point. “To be clear, he never approached any of the men or tried anything with them. I thought throwing the book at him was unfair.”

“And do you believe he was queer?”

“It’s not for me to say. I couldn’t see into the man’s soul or anything.”

“Did he confess anything to you?”

I gave him a suspicious look. “The man is fucking dead, Steve, and his family have lost their son. I don’t believe anything positive can come out of trying to dissect his motivation or sexual preference.”

Steve yawned and stretched his arms, ending up a few inches closer to me. “That’s what I think, too, Bob. And I also think a person’s sex life is their own private business. Don’t you agree?”

I inched away from him. “Yeah, I do think so, Steve. And I think it’s best to keep such things totally private.”

“Not to stick my nose into your personal situation, but my researcher found out something about your brother—Ted, isn’t it?”

My stomach flip-flopped. I was afraid the three margaritas were going to come back up. “How the hell is that any of your fucking business, Congressman? You said you believe in keeping things private.”

“Whoa, buddy. Don’t get me wrong, Bob. I’m not interested in your family problems—”

“It’s not a goddamn problem, Steve. We’re a family like all others, and shitty things happen to us, too. We stick together through them.”

“Quite admirable, Bob, and I was impressed when I read about it.”

“Can we change the subject?”

He leaned toward me until he was only about a foot away. He reached out his hand and rested it on my knee, giving it a little shake.

“Bob, the only reason I brought up those two things is they give me a sense that you’re someone who—shall we say—understands that human relationships can be...well, kind of complex.”

“What do you mean?” My head was starting to spin, and I realized I was barely breathing.

Steve spoke softly, inching closer and sliding his hand up to my thigh.

“I mean I believe you are a man who isn’t put off by the sexuality of other men. I mean I find you quite manly, and I must admit I find myself attracted to your kind of guy. I spend too much of my time around wimpy, feminine, so-called men who disgust me.”

My stomach did somersaults. I couldn’t speak for fear my voice would crack.

Steve took my silence as an encouragement to continue. “I realize you’re not queer, Bob. It’s perfectly clear in everything you say and do...but most men are capable of...shall we say, receiving a little physical pleasure, regardless of the source. Am I right about that?”

Goddamn! Does he know about me and Brian? There’s no way his “researcher” could have found out about that shit!

I stared at him, stunned. I took a deep breath and reached down, roughly lifted his hand off my leg, and shoved it back at him.

I stood up and strode to the door. Turning to face him, I emulated Dad’s no-bullshit tone of voice.

“It was an honor meeting you, Congressman Prestman, and thank you for dinner. I assume my assignment with respect to you is over now, and I regret I won’t be available for the duration of your visit here. I’m sure you understand, Sir.”

Steve straightened and rose from the couch. He brushed off the front of his pants, whether trying to hide his erection or draw my attention to it, I’ll never know.

“Of course, Airman Stimson. Thank you for the helpful information and enlightening conversation. I’ll be looking into a different aspect of the airbase for the remainder of my visit, so I wish you success in your career, and I hope you’ll be safe when you’re sent into combat.”

I didn’t respond, and we didn’t shake hands. He followed me to the door and stopped before opening it. “I’ll call down to the front desk and order a cab for you, charged to my room. We don’t want you walking back to the base in your present condition.”

I whirled around and snarled, “And what fucking condition is that, Sir?”

“Well, obviously, you’ve had several drinks, which is perfectly fine and legal. But too many drinks can cloud your perception of things and distort your memory of events.”

I glared at him and spoke with all the bitterness I could muster.

“Fuck you, Congressman. My perception and memory are one hundred percent accurate, but at the moment, I have no reason to recall any goddamn thing.”

“I’m glad to hear that. Good night, Airman.” He opened the door with a steely smile that made me want to punch his lights out.

I turned my back on him and left without another word. While I waited for the elevator, my body shivered as the adrenaline coursed through my bloodstream. Thankfully, it was a short ride to the barracks.

Back at the base, Cal asked me, “So, how was your dinner with Mister Hotshot Congressman?”

“I don’t want to fucking talk about it.”

“Whoa, Buddy. What the fuck? What happened?”

I inhaled deeply. “Let’s just say I’ve about had it up to here with homosexuality for now, and probably for my whole fuckin life.”

“Shit! So he was—”

“I said I don’t want to fucking talk about it.”

“Fuck! Did he do anything, try to make you do anything?”

“Goddammit, Cal, nobody can make somebody else do shit—at least, that’s what I want to believe. He wanted something, and I didn’t want it, and that’s the fucking end of it.”

“Sure, Boss. Pardon my fuckin curiosity. I’m glad you’re OK—you are OK, aren’t you? ’Cause if you ain’t, I’m gonna need to kick some congressional ass.”

I relaxed and accepted my best friend’s concern for me. “Yeah, Cal. I’m fine. Honestly. No need to kick any ass tonight. I gotta get some goddamn sleep now.”