| Chapter 15 |
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It had rained all Monday morning with no sign of letting up. James found himself lying
on his back, listening to the drops hit the window, his hands behind his head, his
heartbeat calming as cool air from the vent settled over his skin. He reached down
and stroked the top of David’s head. They had been in the room less than an hour.
David lie quietly, the side of his face resting on James’s belly, his cheek wet with the
white fluid that erupted so suddenly just moments before. He turned his head slightly,
his nose burrowed in a mass of black hairs. Each breath, spiced with male sex,
drew him further into a surreal aftermath of male intimacy. He draped his arm over
James’s upper legs and closed his eyes, contemplating the moment as if it were the
day’s gift.
“I don’t have the strength to move,” James sighed.
“You mean we have to stay here all day?”
“It’s getting better, if that’s possible.”
“We’re settling into it. There’s not so much stress. Probably has something to do
with the way things have developed.”
“You’re thinking about Saturday.”
“Yeah. I felt relaxed all afternoon, thoroughly. I like not being wired with what didn’t
get done the week before.”
James tilted his head. David was sprawled across the bed with one foot hanging off
the edge. His hair was sticking out in places. Spilling in through the window, the
morning sun set a glow on his golden skin. His gluteal muscle tightened when
James rested a hand on his hip.
“You got quiet all of a sudden,” David said.
“I’m looking at you.”
David drew up his knees. “Umm. This is nice.”
“Are you surprised Thursday nights turned out the way they have?”
“Yeah. I thought it’d be a few guys using each other to get out of the house.”
“You didn’t anticipate the sex?”
“I didn’t know what to expect. I figured we’d get together, maybe have a couple of
beers, maybe get naked together and fool around. I think Tim made the difference.
He made each one of us feel like part the whole.”
“Plus we all have a lot in common.”
“That's the important thing.”
“I felt skeptical at first,” James said. “I didn’t want to share you, or see you get
interested in another man. But it’s not like that, is it? It’s separate from what you and
I have. It’s like we found three brothers. Closer than brothers maybe.”
“That’s why I’m glad the girls came up with naked Saturdays. Gives us a chance to
share part of it with them. Maybe it’ll take the edge off feeling guilty all the time.”
“Everything came together beautifully. And it includes more than just our own left-
field inclinations.”
David reached up and ran his thumb across James’s lips. “Right about now, I’d say I’
m feeling pretty comfortable with my left-field inclinations.”
James scooted up and rested his back against the headboard. David shifted his
head to James’s thigh. “David,” James said, combing his fingers through David's
unruly hair. His voice hinted concern.
David lifted his head slightly. “I’m listening.”
“I thought things would get back to normal at the office. …They haven’t.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m losing interest.”
David sat up and reached for the towel he brought from the bathroom. He wiped off
the side of his face and then blotted the wet remnants from James’s legs.
“I can’t keep a train-of-thought with you doing that.”
“Go ahead, I’m finished. You were talking about job burnout.”
“I’m not into it anymore. I spend a lot of time thinking about us, wishing we could
spend more time together. I think about how wonderful it’d be if we could get away
for a while, just you and me.”
David had already thought about the two of them vacationing together for a week or
two, maybe someplace remote where they could strip off their clothes and walk on
the beach, or camp in the woods by a river. It was a dream fraught with
complications. Besides rearranging his calendar, the wives would want to go.
“It really has affected my performance,” James continued. “It’s been almost
impossible to get enthusiastic about bleeding the best deals for my clients. I’ve lost
the energy for it. You know how demanding most of them are. It used to be a
challenge to win everything they want. Lately it’s more like a thankless chore.”
“You’re hitting ‘um up for four hundred an hour. They expect you to draw blood.”
“Exactly. That’s the problem. It’s gotten to where I question whether I’m earning the
money.” James hesitated before he went on. “I’ve been daydreaming lately ... about
quitting. Been thinking about getting involved in something a little more meaningful.
Maybe set up a small office to do a little legal work for people who can’t afford a
good lawyer. Give something back, something more rewarding than helping another
tycoon get richer.”
“You wouldn’t be the first guy to give up a million dollar income. I read an article
recently about a New York executive who threw it all in and opened a roadside
nursery in a small town. He found redemption running his hands through mulch.
Dropping out of the rat-race is fairly common these days.”
“You ever think about doing it?”
“Yeah, I do.” David leaned back against his lover’s chest and crossed his legs. It
had been a long time since he woke up each day motivated by the next deal. All of
that didn’t seem important anymore. What mattered now were moments like this,
with James, and Saturday morning coffee with Linda. Back then it seemed he had
intentionally complicated his life; that the subsequent years had blurred in his
memory as a never ending cycle of wheeling and dealing and problem solving. He
didn’t know why it took so long to discover life’s simple pleasures. “I don’t get
excited about taking on a new project anymore. It’s become mechanical, except for
that occasional restoration that gives me a chance to bring a hundred-year-old
building back to life. Sometimes it’s next to impossible to walk out of the house and
drive to the office.”
“Any chance Jeff will get interested in the business when he graduates?”
“Hell no. And I’m tired of talking to him about it. He’s leaning more toward medical
school all the time.” David laughed. “After seeing us naked in the back yard
Saturday, he probably go into psychiatry, thinking his parents need help. Imagine if
he knew the whole truth.”
“Well, after he gets you straightened out, maybe he’ll work on me.” James paused,
then added: “Shame he’s not interested in construction.”
“I figure I’ll just sell out one day.”
“Ever wonder what you’d do if Jeff was gay?”
“Oh God!” said David. “That’s all I need. If Linda ever found out I’m bisexual, she'd
blame me for that, too.”
“How would you feel about it?” asked James.
“You know how I’d feel. He’s my son. I love him.”
♦ ♦ ♦
The summer wore on. A month passed without incident. It was late summer and the
Addison project was going well. Tim had committed himself to creating the finest
landscaped grounds in Dallas. He had also introduced a new by-law to poker night
that the others agreed to. No one would use scented deodorant or aftershave, no
chemicals of any kind that might alter the natural smell of a man’s body on Thursdays.
As the hot days of summer fell behind, James and David kept their careers on track,
though somewhat throttled. Four couples had fallen into the easy routine of naked
Saturdays, and five married men had settled into the fine disposition of their bond.
Until a particularly hot Monday morning.
It was eleven-thirty. James entered David’s office looking grim. Watching his
approach, David could see it was something he might not like hearing. James took
a seat on the opposite side of the desk. The concern in his eyes looked much like
fear.
“I don’t how to tell you this,” James said. His eyes were darting as if he dreaded
what he was about to say.
“James ... you’ve got me worried. What’s wrong?”
“The other day, you and I were talking on the phone. I was in my office. I think you
were here.” He paused as if it were difficult to say. “It was stupid, David. I didn’t
realize my privacy button was switched off. There’s a little asshole in our office that
picked up an extension and ... oh goddamn!” James had trouble catching a breath.
“The son-of-a-bitch listened to our conversation.”
David thought back over the recent phone conversations they have had. It occurred
to him at once that they often say things over the phone, carelessly, things no one
else should hear.
James continued: “I don’t know what he heard, but it was enough. That little asshole
got the picture.”
David looked down at the desktop. The ramifications were clear. Someone outside
of the group knew their secret.
“It’s my fault, David. Just plain stupidity.”
“Get off that. It was my fault as well yours.” David looked away in thought. It was one
of the things they worried about, but never thought would happen. James faced the
threat of embarrassment in his own office, or even worse. Once the rumor took flight,
there’d be no stopping it. Shasha could find out, then Linda. All of a sudden David’s
many years of marriage seemed like so many dominoes waiting for the first to fall.
Questions formed in his mind. “How did you find out he was on the extension?”
“He paid me a visit this morning. Said just enough to convince me. He’s planning
some kind of blackmail. I don’t know what he wants or how he’s going to do it, but it’
s coming.”
“God! Blackmail! He didn’t say anything specific? Make any demands?”
“All he wanted this morning was to get my reaction. Oh God ... I fucked up, David.
He left my office knowing I was scared. I am scared! Everything could fly apart.”
David stood and went to his friend and placed his hands on his shoulders. “Listen,
we’ll think of something. First we have to digest what happened. We’ll go out to
Jake’s and meet the others for lunch just like we planned. We’ll fill them in and come
up with a solution together.”
David swung onto a northbound ramp on Central Expressway. Driving ag-gressively,
he veered from lane to lane. They rode in silence, except for a couple more
emotional apologies from James. He was beside himself with grief. David gripped
the wheel with increasing anger. It boiled his blood that someone had dared
threaten his best friend, that this creep had imposed himself on their privacy.
After Sally greeted them and walked away from the table, the others listened intently
to the story. James concluded by saying: “If I offer to pay him, it’ll never end.”
Tim looked up from the table. “James, I wish I could hold you right now. I can’t stand
that look on your face.”
James closed his eyes, wishing Tim could have his wish.
Jake spoke: “The guy’s a blackmailer. That’s criminal, but we can’t risk going to the
police.”
“The police wouldn’t do anything,” David scoffed. “All it would do is ruin James’s life.
The way I see it, when the bastard threatened James, he threatened all of us.”
Tim nervously rubbed his forehead, at a loss. “What should we do?”
Jorge was listening calmly. To him the problem and the solution were clear. All eyes
shifted when he spoke. His voice was calm and unemotional. “We’ve worried about
things like this. Now it’s happened. We can’t pay him off and we can’t go to the
police. I think there’s only one way to deal with our little intruder.”
Jake nodded. “That’s what I’m thinking. Maybe we beat the shit out of him.”
“That’s got my vote,” David said in anger.
James had noticed Jorge’s calm demeanor. It was like the solution lay in his mind
like an incubating egg. “What are you thinking, Jorge?”
Jorge smiled sadly. “I don’t think we have to harm a hair on his head. If you
gentlemen will permit me to pay him a visit, I think this problem will disappear
forever.”
The others were staring at him, mystified. Jorge’s confidence seemed absolute.
Jorge looked at James. “Who is this unfortunate fellow we’re talking about?”
James sensed that Jorge was the kind of man who could solve a problem like this.
“He’s a paralegal at the firm. Young. Maybe thirty. Kind of a smart ass. The kind no
one likes.”
“He works full time for your firm?” Jorge asked.
“Yes.”
“Does he have his own office?”
“Yeah. A small one down the hall from mine. That’s where he prepares documents
for the next day’s business.”
“And what’s his name.”
“Tom Johnson.”
“Then I’ll call on him there. Tomorrow.” Jorge’s eyes shifted to the glass of water the
waiter had placed before him. He looked confident, though there was a hint of
dismay in his thoughtful gaze.
“What do you have in mind, Jorge?” David asked.
Jorge looked up. He shrugged. “I’ll have a talk with him. I’m familiar with this
personality type. They intimidate easily. You can’t show fear or they’ll feed on it. You
have to put the fear in them. He’ll not want to see me again after the first visit.”
The waiter came around to take their lunch orders. There was a collective
thoughtfulness around the table as each man pondered what Jorge might have in
mind to discourage the blackmailer. They certainly didn’t like feeling like victims or
feeling helpless, relieved that Jorge had resolutely changed the dynamic. They could
see how a man like him could be intimidating. Their anger had evolved into a sense
of justice coupled with an equivocal mystification. Sharing this problem, having
within their private fraternity the diversity to deal with it, gave them a sense of
satisfaction and made them feel closer.
Jorge entered James’s building at ten o’clock the next morning. He was directed to
Tom Johnson’s office by the receptionist. The door was open and he stopped in the
doorframe and looked at a young man at work on his computer.
He didn’t want to be here. He had left his days of confrontation behind in New York,
and his days of dealing with the enemy in Vietnam still haunted him. He wanted
nothing more than to live out his life in peace. But of the five men confronting this
problem, he knew he was the one that could effectively deal with it.
The blackmailer looked up. “Can I help you find someone?”
Jorge stared at him a moment longer. Anger arose in him. Memories of what they
had done to the Viet Cong to make them talk flashed through his mind. Besides
anger, he felt revulsion and he found it difficult to mask.
“I’m here to see you, Mr. Johnson.”
The blackmailer looked puzzled. He had few contacts with the firm’s clients and he
had no appointments. Nevertheless, for decorum’s sake, he stood and extended his
hand.
Jorge looked at the hand. It would not be an amicable handshake by which he would
greet this man, rather a repressive gesture as to his reason for being there,
delivered physically. He took the hand in a firm grip, uncommonly firm, tipping the
scale toward aggressive.
The blackmailer flinched and his eyes narrowed and dropped to their clasped
hands. It seemed his breath had stopped for the moment.
“We have a mutual friend, Mr. Johnson.” Jorge had not yet released the blackmailer’
s hand. Now the man’s breathing was visibly pronounced.
Finally the hand was released. The blackmailer looked up and stared at Jorge even
more confused. He eased back down into his chair as Jorge casually took the chair
fronting his desk.
“I’m here to save you from a lot of grief.”
“A mutual friend?” the blackmailer asked from a fog of confusion.
“You approached our friend this week. You told him you listened to a phone
conversation. You implied he should provide a favor.”
The blackmailer shook his head nervously. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.
What do you want?”
“Do I look like a stupid man, Mr. Johnson?”
“I didn’t say…”
“Think about a wooden box, Mr. Johnson. The lid has been nailed shut and it’s
buried three feet under the ground. There’s a man inside. His balls have been
sliced off and shoved into his mouth. He has no room to move his arms or turn over.
He spits out his balls but the taste remains in his mouth during his final three days of
life.”
The fear that Jorge was looking for had darkened the blackmailer’s face. He sat
dumbstruck, staring, breathing harder than before.
“You don’t want to see me again, Mr. Johnson. But you will. You will if you try to
blackmail our friend. You will if you utter a single word to anyone about that phone
conversation.” Jorge paused before adding: “Have I made myself clear?”
The fear had accumulated in the blackmailer’s eyes. All he could do was nod and
then watch Jorge stand and walk out of his office.
Jorge left the building depressed. He knew the problem was over, though it left him
feeling like a man he didn’t want to be. Once again he was that small boy, hoping
someone would come along and smile and stroke the side of his face.
They met in the lounge of the Hyatt Regency the following Thursday night. They had
just been served a pitcher of beer. They were asking James about the blackmailer.
“No,” said James. “He hasn’t approached me. In fact I think he’s avoiding me. I
heard he put in for an emergency vacation.”
“Jorge’s visit must have been effective.”
“What did you say to him, Jorge?”
Tim, sitting next to him, noticed his saddened expression. He placed his hand
compassionately upon his.
The thing about the man buried alive in a box was a tactic Jorge had witnessed in
Vietnam. He told them the story, concluding with: “There were eight of us on that
patrol. We got pinned down right after we took the prisoner. We couldn’t survive
without knowing the enemy’s position. It was a matter of finding an escape route
without walking into a trap. That’s when our commanding officer decided to make
the prisoner talk.”
“You guys actually castrated him?”
“Yes.”
“Where did you get the wooden box?”
“There was a munitions crate someone had left behind.”
“How long did you leave him buried?”
“Maybe three hours. He didn’t want to go back in that box.”
“Damn.”
They paused for a moment in thought.
“I still have nightmares about the war,” said Jorge. “The atrocities on both sides
were inhuman. I’ve never told anyone about that box.” Jorge took a long drink of
beer and then wiped his lips on a napkin. “I suppose the brutality so common in
Vietnam is ingrained in a lot of us. It was a depressing story. I’m sorry.”
“No apology necessary, Jorge,” David assured him. “I don’t know what we would've
done without you.”
“Amen,” James added. His hands had finally stopped trembling. The threat had
caused him to have lived through a dozen dreadful scenarios in a reoccurring
nightmare.
Jake chuckled, then said: “Looks to me the problem is solved. Bet the bastard
pissed in his pants when he visualized that box.”
“Those were my pants that got wet,” said James. “My world was spinning out of
control. At least it’s over.” He looked at Jorge. “Thanks, my friend. I don’t know
what else to say.”
Tim spoke directly to Jorge. “We faced an injustice. There were no good choices.
He forced us to deal with it or else be helpless victims. I love you more for going
through that for us.”
James’s emotions were still just under the surface. “You guys went though that
because of my carelessness. Jorge suffered the brunt of it. I’d like to say thanks by
picking up the tab on the suite.”
“Let’s just play cards tonight,” said David. “Doesn’t look like we’re in the mood for
anything else.”
“I agree.”
“Me, too.”
“Cards it is, then.”
They wearily raised their glasses in a toast. Then James stood and walked out of
the lounge and turned toward the front desk.
♦ ♦ ♦
At eleven o’clock the next morning David had been in his office two hours. His
melancholy had set in during the drive to work and he couldn’t shake it. He planned
to take the afternoon off, after a quick drive to the Addison job site to see Tim.
He found Tim on the north side of the building swinging a grub hoe, his jeans damp,
his bare chest running with sweat. He looked up and smiled when David
approached.
“You don’t want to hire someone to do that?” David asked.
Tim let the hoe fall to the dirt. “I don’t mind doing it. Keeps my lungs clear.”
David’s eyes drifted over his lean boyish chest, sun bronzed and scattered with fine
golden hairs between small brown nipples. Standing in his gaze Tim quickly read his
thoughts. He placed his hand on his damp chest and David’s eyes followed it down
past his belly, where he fleetingly squeezed his own crotch.
Their eyes then met again.
“Our minds get diverted easily, don’t they,” said Tim.
“Yeah, they do.”
“Did you stop by to see how things are going?” Tim asked, leaving some rather
obvious thoughts unsaid.
A moment passed before David answered. “I stopped by to look at you.”
Tim smiled and then turned to look at the building. “I think your drywall crew is
working on the fourteenth floor today.”
David tilted his head and scanned the height of the building, then glanced at the
progress made on the walkway. There was no one in sight. He stepped closer and
Tim leaned his head slightly as David’s lips neared his neck.
“Where’s your crew,” David whispered.
“Somewhere in the building eating lunch.”
“You’re not having lunch today?”
“Drank a Slim Fast.”
“Hmm. Trying to lose some of that flab?”
Tim smiled again.
David closed his eyes and drew in a breath. “You smell . . . nice. I’d like to kiss your
neck.”
Tim rolled his head and his blond hair brushed David’s cheek. Mindful of the risky
body chemistry at play, David reluctantly stepped back. “Guess it better wait.” He
sat down on a low brick retaining wall Tim’s crew erected the week before.
Tim turned and looked at him and saw the melancholy in his eyes. He sat down
beside him.
David was staring at Tim’s bare feet. “Someone steal your shoes?”
“They’re over there. My feet were getting sweaty.”
“Of course,” David smiled, then the smile saddened. “You believe in bio-rhythms?”
“Yeah. Yours are down today.”
“I know, but don’t know why.”
“Might be your natural cycle.”
“Could be.”
“Or maybe what James went through caused it.”
“Yeah, probably,” said David. “Never been mad enough to kill someone before.”
Staring at the ground, he added: “I’m glad Jorge knew how to deal with that
problem.”
“He hated doing it.”
David looked at him, puzzled. “How do you mean?”
“His past. He hates it. I could see it in his eyes. What we saw as justice, he saw as
brutality. Vietnam still haunts him. He wants to get it out of his system, but he had to
call on his potential to be ruthless because of his love for us. He felt he had no
choice.”
David eyes shifted downward. “I think you’re right about Vietnam. I can’t imagine
what he must have gone through over there.” He was staring at the tree root Tim had
been chopping at. “How did we get by without your wonderful perceptions?
…Guess I was so angry about what happened to James, I didn’t think about what
Jorge went though to help him. It was justice, any way you look at it. When I saw how
scared James was, I couldn’t stand it.” David released a breath and a calm settled
over him. “I suppose you know I love him?”
“Yes.”
“Did you know we spend Monday afternoons together?”
“I didn’t, but I’m not surprised. We’re all close, but what’s between you and James
goes beyond that. I like the way you look me, but when you look at him I see pure joy.”
David scanned the grounds, reflecting. “We’ve always been best friends. Neither of
us could believe we’ve been attracted to each other for almost fifteen years and didn’
t know it. Go figure.” He reached down for a twig and twisted it between his fingers.
“I thought we’d experiment a little, you know, get it out of our system. It’s not like that.
I didn’t expect the impact. Now I can’t imagine not having him in my life.”
“It’s that way to some degree for all five of us.”
“I know. Like the thing with James and the blackmailer. We all saw it the same way.
I didn’t know you could feel that close to four men. We were brothers.”
Tim smiled and nodded. “I felt that, too.” A silence passed, as if being there
together in itself was all that was needed. “Glad you thought of me when you wanted
someone to talk to.”
David looked at him. He knew his spirits would lift by seeing Tim, and they did.
“Tim, you have any idea how much you mean to me, to all of us? I’m luckier than the
richest man on earth just knowing you. We all feel the same way. If your crew wasn’t
here, I could sit and watch you work the rest of the day. Your mind is purer than any
I've ever known. You understand life in a way most can’t comprehend. …Now I know
why you choose to be with older men.”
Tim looked down at his feet. “I’m the lucky one, David.” His eyes lifted. “I knew you
and the others long before we met that day at the hotel. You were in my dreams. I
knew you guys were out there somewhere. Just wasn’t sure I’d ever find you. But
now I have. Now I have friends who allow me to be myself and love me for who I am.”
“Who you are is exactly why we love you and I hope you never change.” David
paused in thought, then said: “Those contracts I bid on. If they come through, you
won’t take all three landscape projects, will you?”
“No.”
“The money isn’t that important to you.”
“I’d be spread too thin.”
“Am I right about the money?”
“What real value does a lot of money have? No great artist ever painted a Mercedes
Benz or sculpted a statue of a stockbroker. No great voice ever sang the praises of
a gold watch or diamond necklace.”
David smiled. “See what I mean? You have life figured out.”
“Money’s important in the sense I have to provide for my family. I want them to be
comfortable and secure. When my kids get older, I’d like to take Rosemary to New
York or San Francisco or anyplace she’d like to see. A bigger house or a fancy
car? No. Money isn’t that important. If I took all three projects, I wouldn’t have time
to chop an old root out of the way, or create a brick walkway with my own hands.”
David nodded. “Jorge told me the other day you make him feel like a man living in
poverty.”
“He likes to tease me. I think it’s because I’m so much younger.”
“Maybe so, but he admires you as much as I do.”
“All five of us are the same in many ways, and different in many ways. I like the way I
am, but I’m also a little envious. I couldn’t begin to achieve as much as any of
you have.”
David was staring at his knees in thought. “Do you worry about Rosemary finding
out?”
“Yeah. That’s a dilemma.”
“Seems like I worry about it constantly. Sometimes, when I’m at home with Linda, I
vow to quit. I convince myself to walk away. It comes from guilt. Then other times,
like this, being here with you, I know quitting would be impossible.”
“Unless you’re ready to face denial everyday for the rest of your life.”
“It’s not that I’m having sex with men. It’s keeping secrets from Linda. I haven’t
figured out how to deal with lying to her. I’d like to talk to her about it, but what would I
say? How could I make her understand?” He looked at Tim. “Would Rosemary
leave you?”
“I think about that a lot, even before I met you and the others. Rosemary has pretty
clear moral convictions. Be a severe blow. In the end, I think she’d find a way to
forgive me. She knows I wouldn’t intentionally hurt her. She’d eventually realize it's
part of who I am. I’m nourished by her love—I’m also nourished by being with like-
minded men. I didn’t come into this world contemplating either. Would she
understand why this imprint requires a resolution? …No. And that’s what I fear
most. I don’t think I’d lose her, but I’d lose what I have with you and the others.”
They sat quietly for a moment. David was gazing across the street.
“What are you looking at?” Tim asked.
“That plot of grass over there. Thinking about how nice it would be if we were sitting
like this in a field of fresh green grass, not surrounded by five million people.”
Tim wanted to stroke his hair, but his crew was coming around the corner.
David stood and said: “Well, looks like those guys are ready to get back to work. I’m
taking the afternoon off.”
“Probably a good idea.”
“See you tomorrow night. Linda’s planned a barbecue.”
Tim smiled and nodded. “Sounds good. You’ll feel better by then.”
“I already do.”
The workmen picked up their shovels and hoes while Tim watched David disappear
around the corner of the building.
on his back, listening to the drops hit the window, his hands behind his head, his
heartbeat calming as cool air from the vent settled over his skin. He reached down
and stroked the top of David’s head. They had been in the room less than an hour.
David lie quietly, the side of his face resting on James’s belly, his cheek wet with the
white fluid that erupted so suddenly just moments before. He turned his head slightly,
his nose burrowed in a mass of black hairs. Each breath, spiced with male sex,
drew him further into a surreal aftermath of male intimacy. He draped his arm over
James’s upper legs and closed his eyes, contemplating the moment as if it were the
day’s gift.
“I don’t have the strength to move,” James sighed.
“You mean we have to stay here all day?”
“It’s getting better, if that’s possible.”
“We’re settling into it. There’s not so much stress. Probably has something to do
with the way things have developed.”
“You’re thinking about Saturday.”
“Yeah. I felt relaxed all afternoon, thoroughly. I like not being wired with what didn’t
get done the week before.”
James tilted his head. David was sprawled across the bed with one foot hanging off
the edge. His hair was sticking out in places. Spilling in through the window, the
morning sun set a glow on his golden skin. His gluteal muscle tightened when
James rested a hand on his hip.
“You got quiet all of a sudden,” David said.
“I’m looking at you.”
David drew up his knees. “Umm. This is nice.”
“Are you surprised Thursday nights turned out the way they have?”
“Yeah. I thought it’d be a few guys using each other to get out of the house.”
“You didn’t anticipate the sex?”
“I didn’t know what to expect. I figured we’d get together, maybe have a couple of
beers, maybe get naked together and fool around. I think Tim made the difference.
He made each one of us feel like part the whole.”
“Plus we all have a lot in common.”
“That's the important thing.”
“I felt skeptical at first,” James said. “I didn’t want to share you, or see you get
interested in another man. But it’s not like that, is it? It’s separate from what you and
I have. It’s like we found three brothers. Closer than brothers maybe.”
“That’s why I’m glad the girls came up with naked Saturdays. Gives us a chance to
share part of it with them. Maybe it’ll take the edge off feeling guilty all the time.”
“Everything came together beautifully. And it includes more than just our own left-
field inclinations.”
David reached up and ran his thumb across James’s lips. “Right about now, I’d say I’
m feeling pretty comfortable with my left-field inclinations.”
James scooted up and rested his back against the headboard. David shifted his
head to James’s thigh. “David,” James said, combing his fingers through David's
unruly hair. His voice hinted concern.
David lifted his head slightly. “I’m listening.”
“I thought things would get back to normal at the office. …They haven’t.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m losing interest.”
David sat up and reached for the towel he brought from the bathroom. He wiped off
the side of his face and then blotted the wet remnants from James’s legs.
“I can’t keep a train-of-thought with you doing that.”
“Go ahead, I’m finished. You were talking about job burnout.”
“I’m not into it anymore. I spend a lot of time thinking about us, wishing we could
spend more time together. I think about how wonderful it’d be if we could get away
for a while, just you and me.”
David had already thought about the two of them vacationing together for a week or
two, maybe someplace remote where they could strip off their clothes and walk on
the beach, or camp in the woods by a river. It was a dream fraught with
complications. Besides rearranging his calendar, the wives would want to go.
“It really has affected my performance,” James continued. “It’s been almost
impossible to get enthusiastic about bleeding the best deals for my clients. I’ve lost
the energy for it. You know how demanding most of them are. It used to be a
challenge to win everything they want. Lately it’s more like a thankless chore.”
“You’re hitting ‘um up for four hundred an hour. They expect you to draw blood.”
“Exactly. That’s the problem. It’s gotten to where I question whether I’m earning the
money.” James hesitated before he went on. “I’ve been daydreaming lately ... about
quitting. Been thinking about getting involved in something a little more meaningful.
Maybe set up a small office to do a little legal work for people who can’t afford a
good lawyer. Give something back, something more rewarding than helping another
tycoon get richer.”
“You wouldn’t be the first guy to give up a million dollar income. I read an article
recently about a New York executive who threw it all in and opened a roadside
nursery in a small town. He found redemption running his hands through mulch.
Dropping out of the rat-race is fairly common these days.”
“You ever think about doing it?”
“Yeah, I do.” David leaned back against his lover’s chest and crossed his legs. It
had been a long time since he woke up each day motivated by the next deal. All of
that didn’t seem important anymore. What mattered now were moments like this,
with James, and Saturday morning coffee with Linda. Back then it seemed he had
intentionally complicated his life; that the subsequent years had blurred in his
memory as a never ending cycle of wheeling and dealing and problem solving. He
didn’t know why it took so long to discover life’s simple pleasures. “I don’t get
excited about taking on a new project anymore. It’s become mechanical, except for
that occasional restoration that gives me a chance to bring a hundred-year-old
building back to life. Sometimes it’s next to impossible to walk out of the house and
drive to the office.”
“Any chance Jeff will get interested in the business when he graduates?”
“Hell no. And I’m tired of talking to him about it. He’s leaning more toward medical
school all the time.” David laughed. “After seeing us naked in the back yard
Saturday, he probably go into psychiatry, thinking his parents need help. Imagine if
he knew the whole truth.”
“Well, after he gets you straightened out, maybe he’ll work on me.” James paused,
then added: “Shame he’s not interested in construction.”
“I figure I’ll just sell out one day.”
“Ever wonder what you’d do if Jeff was gay?”
“Oh God!” said David. “That’s all I need. If Linda ever found out I’m bisexual, she'd
blame me for that, too.”
“How would you feel about it?” asked James.
“You know how I’d feel. He’s my son. I love him.”
♦ ♦ ♦
The summer wore on. A month passed without incident. It was late summer and the
Addison project was going well. Tim had committed himself to creating the finest
landscaped grounds in Dallas. He had also introduced a new by-law to poker night
that the others agreed to. No one would use scented deodorant or aftershave, no
chemicals of any kind that might alter the natural smell of a man’s body on Thursdays.
As the hot days of summer fell behind, James and David kept their careers on track,
though somewhat throttled. Four couples had fallen into the easy routine of naked
Saturdays, and five married men had settled into the fine disposition of their bond.
Until a particularly hot Monday morning.
It was eleven-thirty. James entered David’s office looking grim. Watching his
approach, David could see it was something he might not like hearing. James took
a seat on the opposite side of the desk. The concern in his eyes looked much like
fear.
“I don’t how to tell you this,” James said. His eyes were darting as if he dreaded
what he was about to say.
“James ... you’ve got me worried. What’s wrong?”
“The other day, you and I were talking on the phone. I was in my office. I think you
were here.” He paused as if it were difficult to say. “It was stupid, David. I didn’t
realize my privacy button was switched off. There’s a little asshole in our office that
picked up an extension and ... oh goddamn!” James had trouble catching a breath.
“The son-of-a-bitch listened to our conversation.”
David thought back over the recent phone conversations they have had. It occurred
to him at once that they often say things over the phone, carelessly, things no one
else should hear.
James continued: “I don’t know what he heard, but it was enough. That little asshole
got the picture.”
David looked down at the desktop. The ramifications were clear. Someone outside
of the group knew their secret.
“It’s my fault, David. Just plain stupidity.”
“Get off that. It was my fault as well yours.” David looked away in thought. It was one
of the things they worried about, but never thought would happen. James faced the
threat of embarrassment in his own office, or even worse. Once the rumor took flight,
there’d be no stopping it. Shasha could find out, then Linda. All of a sudden David’s
many years of marriage seemed like so many dominoes waiting for the first to fall.
Questions formed in his mind. “How did you find out he was on the extension?”
“He paid me a visit this morning. Said just enough to convince me. He’s planning
some kind of blackmail. I don’t know what he wants or how he’s going to do it, but it’
s coming.”
“God! Blackmail! He didn’t say anything specific? Make any demands?”
“All he wanted this morning was to get my reaction. Oh God ... I fucked up, David.
He left my office knowing I was scared. I am scared! Everything could fly apart.”
David stood and went to his friend and placed his hands on his shoulders. “Listen,
we’ll think of something. First we have to digest what happened. We’ll go out to
Jake’s and meet the others for lunch just like we planned. We’ll fill them in and come
up with a solution together.”
David swung onto a northbound ramp on Central Expressway. Driving ag-gressively,
he veered from lane to lane. They rode in silence, except for a couple more
emotional apologies from James. He was beside himself with grief. David gripped
the wheel with increasing anger. It boiled his blood that someone had dared
threaten his best friend, that this creep had imposed himself on their privacy.
After Sally greeted them and walked away from the table, the others listened intently
to the story. James concluded by saying: “If I offer to pay him, it’ll never end.”
Tim looked up from the table. “James, I wish I could hold you right now. I can’t stand
that look on your face.”
James closed his eyes, wishing Tim could have his wish.
Jake spoke: “The guy’s a blackmailer. That’s criminal, but we can’t risk going to the
police.”
“The police wouldn’t do anything,” David scoffed. “All it would do is ruin James’s life.
The way I see it, when the bastard threatened James, he threatened all of us.”
Tim nervously rubbed his forehead, at a loss. “What should we do?”
Jorge was listening calmly. To him the problem and the solution were clear. All eyes
shifted when he spoke. His voice was calm and unemotional. “We’ve worried about
things like this. Now it’s happened. We can’t pay him off and we can’t go to the
police. I think there’s only one way to deal with our little intruder.”
Jake nodded. “That’s what I’m thinking. Maybe we beat the shit out of him.”
“That’s got my vote,” David said in anger.
James had noticed Jorge’s calm demeanor. It was like the solution lay in his mind
like an incubating egg. “What are you thinking, Jorge?”
Jorge smiled sadly. “I don’t think we have to harm a hair on his head. If you
gentlemen will permit me to pay him a visit, I think this problem will disappear
forever.”
The others were staring at him, mystified. Jorge’s confidence seemed absolute.
Jorge looked at James. “Who is this unfortunate fellow we’re talking about?”
James sensed that Jorge was the kind of man who could solve a problem like this.
“He’s a paralegal at the firm. Young. Maybe thirty. Kind of a smart ass. The kind no
one likes.”
“He works full time for your firm?” Jorge asked.
“Yes.”
“Does he have his own office?”
“Yeah. A small one down the hall from mine. That’s where he prepares documents
for the next day’s business.”
“And what’s his name.”
“Tom Johnson.”
“Then I’ll call on him there. Tomorrow.” Jorge’s eyes shifted to the glass of water the
waiter had placed before him. He looked confident, though there was a hint of
dismay in his thoughtful gaze.
“What do you have in mind, Jorge?” David asked.
Jorge looked up. He shrugged. “I’ll have a talk with him. I’m familiar with this
personality type. They intimidate easily. You can’t show fear or they’ll feed on it. You
have to put the fear in them. He’ll not want to see me again after the first visit.”
The waiter came around to take their lunch orders. There was a collective
thoughtfulness around the table as each man pondered what Jorge might have in
mind to discourage the blackmailer. They certainly didn’t like feeling like victims or
feeling helpless, relieved that Jorge had resolutely changed the dynamic. They could
see how a man like him could be intimidating. Their anger had evolved into a sense
of justice coupled with an equivocal mystification. Sharing this problem, having
within their private fraternity the diversity to deal with it, gave them a sense of
satisfaction and made them feel closer.
Jorge entered James’s building at ten o’clock the next morning. He was directed to
Tom Johnson’s office by the receptionist. The door was open and he stopped in the
doorframe and looked at a young man at work on his computer.
He didn’t want to be here. He had left his days of confrontation behind in New York,
and his days of dealing with the enemy in Vietnam still haunted him. He wanted
nothing more than to live out his life in peace. But of the five men confronting this
problem, he knew he was the one that could effectively deal with it.
The blackmailer looked up. “Can I help you find someone?”
Jorge stared at him a moment longer. Anger arose in him. Memories of what they
had done to the Viet Cong to make them talk flashed through his mind. Besides
anger, he felt revulsion and he found it difficult to mask.
“I’m here to see you, Mr. Johnson.”
The blackmailer looked puzzled. He had few contacts with the firm’s clients and he
had no appointments. Nevertheless, for decorum’s sake, he stood and extended his
hand.
Jorge looked at the hand. It would not be an amicable handshake by which he would
greet this man, rather a repressive gesture as to his reason for being there,
delivered physically. He took the hand in a firm grip, uncommonly firm, tipping the
scale toward aggressive.
The blackmailer flinched and his eyes narrowed and dropped to their clasped
hands. It seemed his breath had stopped for the moment.
“We have a mutual friend, Mr. Johnson.” Jorge had not yet released the blackmailer’
s hand. Now the man’s breathing was visibly pronounced.
Finally the hand was released. The blackmailer looked up and stared at Jorge even
more confused. He eased back down into his chair as Jorge casually took the chair
fronting his desk.
“I’m here to save you from a lot of grief.”
“A mutual friend?” the blackmailer asked from a fog of confusion.
“You approached our friend this week. You told him you listened to a phone
conversation. You implied he should provide a favor.”
The blackmailer shook his head nervously. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.
What do you want?”
“Do I look like a stupid man, Mr. Johnson?”
“I didn’t say…”
“Think about a wooden box, Mr. Johnson. The lid has been nailed shut and it’s
buried three feet under the ground. There’s a man inside. His balls have been
sliced off and shoved into his mouth. He has no room to move his arms or turn over.
He spits out his balls but the taste remains in his mouth during his final three days of
life.”
The fear that Jorge was looking for had darkened the blackmailer’s face. He sat
dumbstruck, staring, breathing harder than before.
“You don’t want to see me again, Mr. Johnson. But you will. You will if you try to
blackmail our friend. You will if you utter a single word to anyone about that phone
conversation.” Jorge paused before adding: “Have I made myself clear?”
The fear had accumulated in the blackmailer’s eyes. All he could do was nod and
then watch Jorge stand and walk out of his office.
Jorge left the building depressed. He knew the problem was over, though it left him
feeling like a man he didn’t want to be. Once again he was that small boy, hoping
someone would come along and smile and stroke the side of his face.
They met in the lounge of the Hyatt Regency the following Thursday night. They had
just been served a pitcher of beer. They were asking James about the blackmailer.
“No,” said James. “He hasn’t approached me. In fact I think he’s avoiding me. I
heard he put in for an emergency vacation.”
“Jorge’s visit must have been effective.”
“What did you say to him, Jorge?”
Tim, sitting next to him, noticed his saddened expression. He placed his hand
compassionately upon his.
The thing about the man buried alive in a box was a tactic Jorge had witnessed in
Vietnam. He told them the story, concluding with: “There were eight of us on that
patrol. We got pinned down right after we took the prisoner. We couldn’t survive
without knowing the enemy’s position. It was a matter of finding an escape route
without walking into a trap. That’s when our commanding officer decided to make
the prisoner talk.”
“You guys actually castrated him?”
“Yes.”
“Where did you get the wooden box?”
“There was a munitions crate someone had left behind.”
“How long did you leave him buried?”
“Maybe three hours. He didn’t want to go back in that box.”
“Damn.”
They paused for a moment in thought.
“I still have nightmares about the war,” said Jorge. “The atrocities on both sides
were inhuman. I’ve never told anyone about that box.” Jorge took a long drink of
beer and then wiped his lips on a napkin. “I suppose the brutality so common in
Vietnam is ingrained in a lot of us. It was a depressing story. I’m sorry.”
“No apology necessary, Jorge,” David assured him. “I don’t know what we would've
done without you.”
“Amen,” James added. His hands had finally stopped trembling. The threat had
caused him to have lived through a dozen dreadful scenarios in a reoccurring
nightmare.
Jake chuckled, then said: “Looks to me the problem is solved. Bet the bastard
pissed in his pants when he visualized that box.”
“Those were my pants that got wet,” said James. “My world was spinning out of
control. At least it’s over.” He looked at Jorge. “Thanks, my friend. I don’t know
what else to say.”
Tim spoke directly to Jorge. “We faced an injustice. There were no good choices.
He forced us to deal with it or else be helpless victims. I love you more for going
through that for us.”
James’s emotions were still just under the surface. “You guys went though that
because of my carelessness. Jorge suffered the brunt of it. I’d like to say thanks by
picking up the tab on the suite.”
“Let’s just play cards tonight,” said David. “Doesn’t look like we’re in the mood for
anything else.”
“I agree.”
“Me, too.”
“Cards it is, then.”
They wearily raised their glasses in a toast. Then James stood and walked out of
the lounge and turned toward the front desk.
♦ ♦ ♦
At eleven o’clock the next morning David had been in his office two hours. His
melancholy had set in during the drive to work and he couldn’t shake it. He planned
to take the afternoon off, after a quick drive to the Addison job site to see Tim.
He found Tim on the north side of the building swinging a grub hoe, his jeans damp,
his bare chest running with sweat. He looked up and smiled when David
approached.
“You don’t want to hire someone to do that?” David asked.
Tim let the hoe fall to the dirt. “I don’t mind doing it. Keeps my lungs clear.”
David’s eyes drifted over his lean boyish chest, sun bronzed and scattered with fine
golden hairs between small brown nipples. Standing in his gaze Tim quickly read his
thoughts. He placed his hand on his damp chest and David’s eyes followed it down
past his belly, where he fleetingly squeezed his own crotch.
Their eyes then met again.
“Our minds get diverted easily, don’t they,” said Tim.
“Yeah, they do.”
“Did you stop by to see how things are going?” Tim asked, leaving some rather
obvious thoughts unsaid.
A moment passed before David answered. “I stopped by to look at you.”
Tim smiled and then turned to look at the building. “I think your drywall crew is
working on the fourteenth floor today.”
David tilted his head and scanned the height of the building, then glanced at the
progress made on the walkway. There was no one in sight. He stepped closer and
Tim leaned his head slightly as David’s lips neared his neck.
“Where’s your crew,” David whispered.
“Somewhere in the building eating lunch.”
“You’re not having lunch today?”
“Drank a Slim Fast.”
“Hmm. Trying to lose some of that flab?”
Tim smiled again.
David closed his eyes and drew in a breath. “You smell . . . nice. I’d like to kiss your
neck.”
Tim rolled his head and his blond hair brushed David’s cheek. Mindful of the risky
body chemistry at play, David reluctantly stepped back. “Guess it better wait.” He
sat down on a low brick retaining wall Tim’s crew erected the week before.
Tim turned and looked at him and saw the melancholy in his eyes. He sat down
beside him.
David was staring at Tim’s bare feet. “Someone steal your shoes?”
“They’re over there. My feet were getting sweaty.”
“Of course,” David smiled, then the smile saddened. “You believe in bio-rhythms?”
“Yeah. Yours are down today.”
“I know, but don’t know why.”
“Might be your natural cycle.”
“Could be.”
“Or maybe what James went through caused it.”
“Yeah, probably,” said David. “Never been mad enough to kill someone before.”
Staring at the ground, he added: “I’m glad Jorge knew how to deal with that
problem.”
“He hated doing it.”
David looked at him, puzzled. “How do you mean?”
“His past. He hates it. I could see it in his eyes. What we saw as justice, he saw as
brutality. Vietnam still haunts him. He wants to get it out of his system, but he had to
call on his potential to be ruthless because of his love for us. He felt he had no
choice.”
David eyes shifted downward. “I think you’re right about Vietnam. I can’t imagine
what he must have gone through over there.” He was staring at the tree root Tim had
been chopping at. “How did we get by without your wonderful perceptions?
…Guess I was so angry about what happened to James, I didn’t think about what
Jorge went though to help him. It was justice, any way you look at it. When I saw how
scared James was, I couldn’t stand it.” David released a breath and a calm settled
over him. “I suppose you know I love him?”
“Yes.”
“Did you know we spend Monday afternoons together?”
“I didn’t, but I’m not surprised. We’re all close, but what’s between you and James
goes beyond that. I like the way you look me, but when you look at him I see pure joy.”
David scanned the grounds, reflecting. “We’ve always been best friends. Neither of
us could believe we’ve been attracted to each other for almost fifteen years and didn’
t know it. Go figure.” He reached down for a twig and twisted it between his fingers.
“I thought we’d experiment a little, you know, get it out of our system. It’s not like that.
I didn’t expect the impact. Now I can’t imagine not having him in my life.”
“It’s that way to some degree for all five of us.”
“I know. Like the thing with James and the blackmailer. We all saw it the same way.
I didn’t know you could feel that close to four men. We were brothers.”
Tim smiled and nodded. “I felt that, too.” A silence passed, as if being there
together in itself was all that was needed. “Glad you thought of me when you wanted
someone to talk to.”
David looked at him. He knew his spirits would lift by seeing Tim, and they did.
“Tim, you have any idea how much you mean to me, to all of us? I’m luckier than the
richest man on earth just knowing you. We all feel the same way. If your crew wasn’t
here, I could sit and watch you work the rest of the day. Your mind is purer than any
I've ever known. You understand life in a way most can’t comprehend. …Now I know
why you choose to be with older men.”
Tim looked down at his feet. “I’m the lucky one, David.” His eyes lifted. “I knew you
and the others long before we met that day at the hotel. You were in my dreams. I
knew you guys were out there somewhere. Just wasn’t sure I’d ever find you. But
now I have. Now I have friends who allow me to be myself and love me for who I am.”
“Who you are is exactly why we love you and I hope you never change.” David
paused in thought, then said: “Those contracts I bid on. If they come through, you
won’t take all three landscape projects, will you?”
“No.”
“The money isn’t that important to you.”
“I’d be spread too thin.”
“Am I right about the money?”
“What real value does a lot of money have? No great artist ever painted a Mercedes
Benz or sculpted a statue of a stockbroker. No great voice ever sang the praises of
a gold watch or diamond necklace.”
David smiled. “See what I mean? You have life figured out.”
“Money’s important in the sense I have to provide for my family. I want them to be
comfortable and secure. When my kids get older, I’d like to take Rosemary to New
York or San Francisco or anyplace she’d like to see. A bigger house or a fancy
car? No. Money isn’t that important. If I took all three projects, I wouldn’t have time
to chop an old root out of the way, or create a brick walkway with my own hands.”
David nodded. “Jorge told me the other day you make him feel like a man living in
poverty.”
“He likes to tease me. I think it’s because I’m so much younger.”
“Maybe so, but he admires you as much as I do.”
“All five of us are the same in many ways, and different in many ways. I like the way I
am, but I’m also a little envious. I couldn’t begin to achieve as much as any of
you have.”
David was staring at his knees in thought. “Do you worry about Rosemary finding
out?”
“Yeah. That’s a dilemma.”
“Seems like I worry about it constantly. Sometimes, when I’m at home with Linda, I
vow to quit. I convince myself to walk away. It comes from guilt. Then other times,
like this, being here with you, I know quitting would be impossible.”
“Unless you’re ready to face denial everyday for the rest of your life.”
“It’s not that I’m having sex with men. It’s keeping secrets from Linda. I haven’t
figured out how to deal with lying to her. I’d like to talk to her about it, but what would I
say? How could I make her understand?” He looked at Tim. “Would Rosemary
leave you?”
“I think about that a lot, even before I met you and the others. Rosemary has pretty
clear moral convictions. Be a severe blow. In the end, I think she’d find a way to
forgive me. She knows I wouldn’t intentionally hurt her. She’d eventually realize it's
part of who I am. I’m nourished by her love—I’m also nourished by being with like-
minded men. I didn’t come into this world contemplating either. Would she
understand why this imprint requires a resolution? …No. And that’s what I fear
most. I don’t think I’d lose her, but I’d lose what I have with you and the others.”
They sat quietly for a moment. David was gazing across the street.
“What are you looking at?” Tim asked.
“That plot of grass over there. Thinking about how nice it would be if we were sitting
like this in a field of fresh green grass, not surrounded by five million people.”
Tim wanted to stroke his hair, but his crew was coming around the corner.
David stood and said: “Well, looks like those guys are ready to get back to work. I’m
taking the afternoon off.”
“Probably a good idea.”
“See you tomorrow night. Linda’s planned a barbecue.”
Tim smiled and nodded. “Sounds good. You’ll feel better by then.”
“I already do.”
The workmen picked up their shovels and hoes while Tim watched David disappear
around the corner of the building.
