The Start

I avoided the deck this morning; knew she’d be out there. I pulled on shorts for a run and saw Donny coming out at the same time; guess for the same thing. I had a shirt on knowing it would eventually find its way to the elastic of my shorts as I looked at him.

Donny wasn’t wearing a shirt; fuck! I wouldn’t either; ever, if I looked like him. Now all of us have made reference to, Clark Kent, off Smallville. That is Donny. From the dark hair and green eyes, shoulders, pecks, the skin; the fucking skin. But he is naive, not dumb, genuine, and he seems to smile a lot more now.

We nodded but didn’t talk as I started and he followed. Once we got across the old Canal Bridge and into the Arboretum he came up beside me. What came next caused me to stop. “I totally see you darker with dreads, Dude.” He was straight-faced.

Now I was wishing I’d have brought a water as my stomach was busting from laughter; hands on my knees. Donny had cracked himself up as well. He was beautiful in his way; his eyes though. I think Jeff, knew? What I was looking at now were the fun eyes of a child making a good joke; not the other eyes.

As we ran he told me about dancing with Niki; it’d made him hard and he felt bad. I was thinking, ‘well at least you got to hold her.’ “Let’s head back,” and he took the lead. Now talk about a view.

Phil, has a great place and we’ve come to know him a little and he proved it, a little. He led us in and as we all sat he said, “You guys should come to Monaco and party on the Yacht.” And his phone came up and a flash.

“Now that was, fuckin, funny, right there. I got to send this to, Ron.” And Phil was ready to have a seizure. “I can’t promise miniature giraffes but; you should see your faces.” Tears came from laughter; guess we needed an ice breaker.  

Rob and I met with him together then individually with a break. Robby talked about me being gone all the time and how it was hard for him with me so… far away. It hurt in a way he couldn’t explain. I expressed the same and Phil told me, I was overcompensating, and we went back to, my red-headed friend.

I was still so, fucked, up. Over six months, and I was still so fucked up. He was right. I was overcompensating. “Are you still having the dreams?” he asked and I nodded.

“I don’t like to sleep.” And the tears started.

I didn’t like crying; thought it made me weak. Everything I was doing seemed to be a distraction from what I still hadn’t come to terms with yet. I would wake up in a sweat screaming, would just find myself in a corner sobbing, and like a closet drinker; I did everything I could to hid it from Rob.

 I pushed him past that to talk about was front and center, Niki. I’d never dove into my sexuality with him before but understood that, if you want help, you gotta be honest.

Honesty, is hard. When you tell things that no one, ever tells. You tell a guy that could be your grandfather; you had a daydream, and beat off twice thinking about it. Then about the real dream. About halfway through he said ‘I get it.’

I felt the next part was important so I told him about riding Niki’s cock. Honesty. I felt her paint my insides with what exploded from that stallion shaft buried deeper than anything had gone before. I told him about waking up embarrassed of the wet from a dream of her and Robby’s side of the bed is cold. FYI, I’m a fuckin mess. He told me I needed to put this Niki thing, to bed. Now what kind of free advice, is that?

Rob and I were waiting for the car when Phil motioned with his head for me to follow and I did until we reached the back yard. “If he wasn’t a diabetic, I wouldn’t do this. It’s not like you’re paying me or anything; He’s using drugs.”

 “We smoke weed, Doc. You know that.”

“I’m not talking about that, dumbass. He’s using drugs; cocaine.” He put his hands on my shoulders.

“Are you hearing what I’m telling you?”

 I wasn’t hearing him. I saw his lips move, the way his eyes were. Rob and I had only done that a few times years ago, and I bought some once to spice up the lube we used.

It was like he knew what I was going to ask. “He said, he didn’t know why.” And I heard the horn.

“See you in Monaco, Doc.” And I laughed.

We got in the car and I was studying for any sign but knew he hadn’t done it at Phil’s. Rob was in the audience for The View. It had been four days since my YouTube post and I was getting trashed for rescinding my offer to match donations on national TV. A Twitter War erupted. Lots of nasty things were said about me; name-calling, my sexuality, and I’d been ignoring Niki’s many attempts to contact me.

It was becoming harder to get around without people recognizing me; I’d do a ball cap and glasses hoping that would be enough. For shows like this they take care of a room and transportation, but I need to get around.

The panel was divided as well as the audience; and from my vantage point I could see Robby was uncomfortable. “If he says he’s gonna do something, announces it, on The Ellen show; he needs to step up” Joy said to Whoopi.

“Hold up; all of you. You’re right, Joy. I said it, and I should do it. I had no, Flippin, idea, how many people watch, Ellen. How was I supposed to know that phones were ringing off the hook all over the world? Give, me, a, fuckin, break!”

I got a look from Whoopi before she started talking, “To give us a better understanding of Charities and Foundation’s, Niki, who heads the DC Foundation.” The Bitches; all of them.

“Answer your fuckin phone.” She said in my ear. She smelled so…good.

“HE started something, didn’t he?” The question put to her by Megan.

“This whole thing is still kind of new to me; running an organization like Dean’s. Our focus is narrow; life-changing, kids. That’s the goal; kids.”

“You told me on the phone that, this guy here, set off a chain reaction?”

“He’s such a dumbass. Bad things happen all around the world. Charities and foundations like ours do get a boost when something we specialize in happens. Sad as it sounds. This Guy!” And she choked.

“This guy has given more than anyone could realize. He suffers the burden of looking like; well, we all know who. Their world has been turned upside down and inside out. And I will tell you that the only haters are the blank, blank, blank, blank, that didn’t donate a blankin dime.” And she squeezed my leg close to what needed adjusting.

“I really didn’t know,” I started.

“Shut up.” She said to me.

“We all give money in some way; the things we agree with. When the bad thing happens; we give. From what I can tell is, Foundation’s like Dean’s, Phones are ringing off the hook. Thank you, RJ” and she kissed my cheek. Adjust the pants; adjust, the fuckin pants.

I guess a lot of the people who watch Ellen, watch The View. After my post on YouTube the donations changed; twenty-one dollars. Fifty, was most common. Something beyond my match.

Backstage, she handed me my ass. Her eyes with the fire, the way she punctuated the words, and the way I couldn’t help but smile. I wasn’t even listening; I wasn’t even fighting the smile. I realized when her mouth stopped; the corners of her lips rising, and her head tilted to the side. She’s so… fuckin cute when she does that; she has to know.

The Twitter war was being won, I was handling my own shit as we grew closer to the AMA’s. It had gotten so bad a month ago there was talk of pulling me. I feared releasing the song Barry wrote; not that I think it’s bad; is this what I really want to do? I’d done rehearsals, it was acoustic with me and a guitar. 

I did a presenting; Tux, powder blue with tails, white shirt with black ruffles, and a rainbow hankie hanging from my pocket. I    knew what was planned, and knew I couldn’t. The light shined down on me as I walked out; the voice announcing, ‘RJ.’ I took the stool looking out on the faces before me; then the cameras; an untold number of faces.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, Mr. Berry Gibb.”

OK! When you think you got your shit together. The plan was I would do the song he wrote; I had no idea he was here. It’s so weird when you’re up on stage; first the shock for me, the standing ovation for, Barry, and me telling him I couldn’t do it.

I hugged him asking, “Please fuckin help me?”

I picked away at the guitar and he fell in beside me. “As the snow flies, on a cold and gray in any town morning, another little baby child is born.” It’s funny how quick musicians adapt.

‘I see what happens; and not just in poor communities. I fear that the youth of today are left to their own devices.’

“And his Momma cries. Cause if there’s one thing that she don’t need; it’s another little hungry mouth to feed; in today’s times.”

I walked to the end of the stage and sat. ‘How in the hell did this happen? Programs for kids; free and reduced lunch or breakfast, park lunches, YM&WCA’s, funds cut so.

“People don’t you understand? Every, child, needs a helping hand? Take a look at you and me, are we to blind to see; just to look the other way?”

‘I think if it’s one thing? It’s confusion. Now, I’m twenty-two; my bad, twenty-three, and I feel sorry for those ten years younger than me. 2010, everything was so simple, then, wasn’t it?’ And every one was on their feet.

Barry. “Well the world turns. And the hungry little child with the runny nose; plays in the streets; or sells their youth souls, on the intranet. That’s today. And a hunger burns.” The passion in his voice.

I was ready to start the next verse when he stepped in. It all of the sudden dawned on me; the cameras. I always forget about the cameras.

‘So they start to learn how to cruise online, think it’s fine; could be your kid. None of this was planned. I had production people shining lasers in my eyes.

I stood to stand next to Barry. “Then one night in desperation your child breaks away. They hang themself, shoot themself in a park, drive into oncoming traffic; And their momma cries.” Everyone was on their feet. It was an embarrassingly long time.

“You did the right thing,” he said in my ear as we left the stage.

“The American Music Association has never been faced with a decision like this year when it comes to, The Life Time Achievement Award. This year the youngest member will be added, posthumously. This award doesn’t define an artist, doesn’t make someone more than another, and almost everyone in this room voted. To present, and accept, this year’s award is, Niki.”

She had been sitting with us but walking out on stage; shit I’d missed, exploded around her. She was in, total girl mode; woman. I stood clapping for her.

“I so wish he was here to tell you himself ‘I don’t deserve this’ My son’s father only got a glimpse of what he started, not what it grew to become. And I can say for certain, he would thank you, RJ.” motioning to me and clapping.

“At least Dean never answered the door; well.”

“That horse never made it to the finish line, Niki. I bet he would have someday.” I yelled out.

“What many of you may not know; RJ, and I, are neighbors. My son calls Ryan and his husband, Robby, daddy. My roommates are his other two daddies’; how lucky can one kid be?” The applause was thunderous.

“On behalf of Dean Cooper, his Son, Sir Dean, of the, Americas, his Parents, The RJ, Chancellor’s, his other two daddies’, Jeff and Donny, Thank you.”

I didn’t do much after Phil’s. If I did do something Robby came along at my insistence. If I had to go to California, or even farther, I always came home instead of staying the night. I saw no signs of him wired, his sugars were good and he could go to bed early with me and sleep the night through.

Before The AMA’s I appeared at two of his shows so we could kind of rehearse in front of a live audience and perfect harmonies we would need later. Like I’ve said I am twenty-two; twenty-three; fuck. Now if you can imagine; Keith, fuckin, Urban, is your cool uncle. Now? Have you ever gone for that shock factor? Want to surprise the fuck out of someone.

I could hardly contain the smile as we pulled up; Keith, gave nothing away. The bell on the door rang as we walked in and I looked around. A few faces I remembered wondering if they had supper here every night.

“Kid!” The voice rang out and I turned opening my arms for Pops’”

Keith opened his arms and he was in the embrace of Pops’ and I felt like a fool. I brought Keith here not even thinking of all the people he knew; wanting to do to another what was done to me.

“Why you hanging with this white boy?” He asked, looking at me. Then the smile looking at my hurt face; “Gives pop’s a huge, Son.” And I did.

“Yano, I loves you like a rash, Kid?” It made me chuckle.

We sat, looked around, and waited. “Izit true? You and the lady broke up cuza you doon drugs.”

I didn’t know who he was talking to. “Let me see what the hell you been readin, Leroy.” Keith said standing.

“You damn well know I like boys and am married to a man, right?” I asked in some sort of defense thinking he was talking about me and Niki.

“Sit youwass down kid; I donts wanna hurts you.” And we all laughed.

I flew home that night and Niki caught me in the morning. Caught me with a right to my left cheek and a roundhouse to my right shoulder. I was on my ass. Someone’s been practicing. I stood not giving her another chance as eyes shot flames into my stomach and she screamed, “What, the, fuck, do, you, think, you’re, doing?”

“Good morning to you too! Fuck, Niki. That hurt,” as she moved within range and I backed up.

Her body language change as I let her get closer until her arms were around my neck.

“What are you doing, RJ? Are you trying to kill yourself?” She asked inches from my face.

I could smell her body, her breath of coffee and a hint of weed with mint. Her eyes that shot fire at me a minute ago were much softer, everything was softer as my hands fell low on her backside.

From your Author:

I will write as if we aren’t in the middle of something epic. As some know, I live in Washington; ground zero, same county. I am not one of those reality shows about the ones planning for Armageddon. But I stand prepared. I have always rotated my freezer and cupboards, bought my fair share of ammo should someone want to take what I have, and the boys can shoot.

Now this isn’t some kind of new clap from the ocean, didn’t come from melting ice that unleashed this on us. It was something someone made. And every country does it. So like I said, I write as if everything is as normal as it could be. RJC.