The Start

Shit Storm

You returned. We’re going off to the right in this chapter and you will need to use your imagination; after all, this is fiction. But so much shit happens every day that we don’t see. We need to open our eyes.  I love music and live in that whimsical world sometimes. UTUBE will be a big part from here on out. Songs intrepid feelings and say things that can’t be read in words. Take time and listen to the music.  I have a disdain for a certain person who we suffer the wrath of, and will for years. If you are a brainwashed drown of the orange one; just move on now. Sorry.  

Rick’s POV

I could feel a soft tickle around my nipple and then a feather of a touch sliding down my stomach so slow. “That tickles,” I said still in my dream.

I felt hot air on my hardening poll then the wet swipe across my head. “Donny, please.” I heard myself say.

I sprang up as teeth came into contact with my part that was never supposed to come into contact with teeth. “What the fuck???” Came screaming from me.

“Who in the fuck is, Donny, Rick?”

“Dean??? Dean???” My eyes opened.

“Who, in the fuck, is Donny???” rang in my ears again.

“Don’t, Dean, me? Who in the fuck is, Donny? Don’t lie. I will know.”

His tone changed as he said my name, “Rick?”

I was now pissed. I slapped him. “Don’t you ever do that again?” I yelled. “And you know damn good and well, who Donny is.”

“Rick? Are you, ok?” He asked; a look coming across his face.

“What day is it?” I asked back.

“It’s Saturday. We’re the halftime show. Are you OK?” He asked again.  

I pulled him to me. The sorrow I felt losing him and what I felt now knowing it was a dream. “You are so going to get it.” My mouth met his.

He was on his back and I slowly traced down his front. I licked at him. I pulled his bull balls into my mouth and sucked hard. I dropped them and traveled further south; I put my tongue in him. Dean wiggled. This was new for me but somehow felt right. I saw the end. Dean would be under me looking in my eyes, we would be covered in sweat with mine dripping down on him. Dean would be begging for me to love him, help him feel himself pulsing in his own mouth.

Somehow it didn’t happen that way. I did enter him though, at a snail's pace. I showed him my most tender side, a side I didn’t know I had. I made love to, Dean. I had buddies, too. This was not that. I thought about my dream as I loved him. I was doing what I never had the chance to do in my dream.  Dean responded. I knew this was his first time and I did my best to go slow but he didn’t want that. I didn’t bend him in half; didn’t push his rod to his lips. I looked in his eyes as he did the same. I made love to this brown haired boy under me. The way he looked, he seemed to be surprised at what he felt. I was so close and told him as I pushed hard a few times as he pulled on my ass with his nails. He wanted what I had and I gave him my city of ‘never to be born children,’ and Dean coated us with his own city of ‘never to be born children.’  

We watched the first quarter of the game on TV, it was a big game. We fed each other breakfast. I told Dean about my dream and asked about Donny. It surprised me when he explained. I remembered him.

We walked down the tunnel with Dean, saying, “Fake News,” holding his hand up. We could still hear the crowd screaming.

The car was at the end of the tunnel; not fifty feet away like in my dream. Dean and I arrived in the garage of the Davenport; not like in my dream. This was going to be a night to remember and we would never be able to go back.

A different Hotel; different rules. Mini bar! Dean and I ordered room service. We got meals but we asked for fruit and sweet cream, chocolate syrup and some candles, as well. I was the one to have hot chocolate syrup poured and licked from my body and Dean suffered the drops of hot wax. Ok, he didn’t suffer.  The room grew dark as we explored. We napped. We played ‘Marco Polo’ with our tongues and fingers. I mapped his body with my eyes closed. He found spots on me I didn’t know existed. The bang on the door woke me.

“Police; you need to open the door.”

“Fuck you,” Dean rang out from under me.

The door now opened but was stopped by that little ball-bar thing. “What the fuck?” I heard come from my mouth.

“Answer your fuckin phone,” a voice came back. And the door slammed shut.

Dean’s POV.

I looked over. The red light on the phone was blinking. I turned back to Rick who was on his elbows above me. I could feel every piece of skin that was touching me; that included his organ. It was five-thirty in the morning and the cops had just intercepted what could have been the best wake up ever. We listened to the messages. Two were from each of our parents. Satellite trucks were in our driveways and two calls were from, Mr. Long.

I hung up the phone and lay looking at Rick looking back at me. We were on our sides; I studied his face. I cupped a cheek; couldn’t help it. His eyes seemed to talk to me, his skin radiated against mine, and he moved forward touching his lips to me in the softest way.

Rick’s POV. 

Two weeks later. “Well, Ellen. It was all, Dean.” I started, looking out on the studio audience. “He can rap the ingredients of a slim-Jim and he can sing too.” That caused a laugh. It always did. I was becoming more comfortable with this.

“It was Rick. His voice and he looks so… good, bald. Am I right???” Dean chided elbowing me. There was applause.

“Rick and Dean are going to perform for us and we have a surprise for them when we return,” Ellen told her audience.

Dean and I did a transformation into bald wigs and black trench coats. We came out on stage to an unknown band that started to play. I sang and Dean rapped. A voice broke in. We turned and David Draiman, of Disturbed, came walking out and Dean started to clap and my hands went to my mouth.  We sang and Dean rapped as the man I mimicked backed us up. We finished and were praised by Ellen. David kissed her on the cheek and walked off. Mr. Long was now sitting next to Ellen and Dean and I sat next to him.

“Aren’t they something?” And there were claps. “These boys changed the climate in our school and schools all over the country. They have been a pain, I have never been so challenged, but I love these boys for what they’ve done.”

“Mr. Long. Target wants to give your school One- Hundred- Thousand dollars and Dean, Rick; Scholarships’ to schools of your choice. And Ford wants to give you both 2019 Mustangs. Rick said you have a Mustang, Dean.”

“I have a 65. I don’t know if I want to upgrade.” He announced.

“Rick said that too. Ford would be honored to refurbish your car; all the bells and whistles, all the latest technology. I want to commend you both for what you did and what you continue to do. Again our prayers go out to The President, who is suffering from a life-threatening testicular infection. We wish you a speedy recovery.”

“Or Not,” Dean said. And there was applause.

It had been a month and I don’t think we’d slept in the same bed twice. It wasn’t a bad thing. We flew from one side of the country to the other. We were jet-setters going from one show to the next.

Dean’s POV.

I was getting tired of this. We’d done all the news shows, met with the girls on Fox News and provided DNA to prove it was shit. But somehow we were still vilified. We showed up at school a day a week; maybe. We passed all our classes. We applied for the University of Washington.  I’m sure most have no idea what it’s like growing up in North Dakota. Rick and I have views that are not popular in a state that is more worried about someone coming for their porn than the safety of their children. More worried about their access to guns than what church will close. That’s why we chose Washington.  

A few weeks later Rick and I appeared on CNN with Mathew Sheppard’s, mom. That did me in. I talked to her; the story was shared with me as Rick was out of the room. He couldn’t have handled this. It was before we were even born. I cried as she explained; wept for her son as he was tortured and worse. POTUS died. Who would have thought that he would die that way instead of having them just take his balls? You get a ‘big sad face’ from me. NOT. Pence is our leader now; out of the frying-pan into the kettle.  

In a short time, we became estranged with our school, families, and each other. Rick and I; it could have been so… different. We became a couple; from circumstance. We did have a strong feeling for each other and seemed to become what we did, by default.  It was coming up on Christmas; we’d been at it for almost two solid months. I’d reached my end. I just wanted to be Dean, again. I know I started this; I know that. But I didn’t know what I was doing, Ok?

I sat across from Rick in a restaurant, somewhere. I didn’t even know where we were. “I can’t do this anymore, Rick. I just want to go home.” I knew he loved what we were doing and all the attention.  Rick was trolling an agent for himself; he was wanting to model, acting classes would start in a month if he had his way and I seemed or felt like, we were in each other way now. “Are you out of your fuckin mind? Do you want to ruin this for me? You’re just jealous.” He gloated.

“I feel sorry for you. It was never supposed to be about you or me; it was about the kids. Where did you lose sight of that, Rick? When did that become unimportant to you?” I stood. Rick stood, too. “Are you going to cry, Dean? You were always such a pussy.” His true colors seemed to show now.

I slugged him in the face. There’s some color for you. “If I cry, the tears will be for you, Rick. They can fix your eye with some make-up.” And I walked out.

I hailed a cab and was off to the airport. I didn’t even go back to the Hotel. I did cry. I said my tears would be for Rick but most were for me; I’d been missing him for weeks. We were together but I was alone. I walked into a dark house in the middle of the night. “I’m home, Mom,” I said passing their bedroom door.

“Sweet dreams, Honey. I’ll see you in the morning.”

I didn’t sleep. I was sitting with coffee when mom came down. “Where are you off to now, Dean?” She asked. It wasn’t in a bitchy way. She was just asking. She’s my Mom.

“School”

I sat on the steps waiting for Mr. Long. I really didn’t know where else to go. He stopped in front of me. I motioned with my head, “Your Office?” I asked and got up.

I sat in front of him. He watched me from behind his desk. I felt sick. My eyes brimmed with tears as my chest heaved up and down; I looked around not knowing where to start. I just wept. When I was done I said, “I’m going to class.”

“Don’t close the book on him, Dean. You asked me what a shit storm was. You have been living in the middle of one for months, son. Swanson will come around.” He finished.

People avoided me; actually walked around me. I numbly went through my first three classes. I walked down the lunch line only to dump it in the garbage. I sat on the stage with my head down.

I didn’t realize how quiet it became. “I want to rock with you, all night.” I shook my head at his corniness and couldn’t help but smile not looking up.

“Really? You want to rock with me all night? That’s the best you got???”

“Dean? My head got bigger than my hair. I don’t know what to say,” as he stepped between my legs.

I rested my hands around his neck pulling his head to mine and bonked my forehead off his; everything around us forgotten. “There were harsh words exchanged. You hit me; hard. I think that constitutes as a fight. There should be make-up sex.” He finished.  

Again I had to laugh at his corniness. This was the Rick I remembered. He had this move when tilted his head in a questioning way. It was so fuckin cute. “Your place or mine,” I asked?  

He held up a key. “Your room at the Lions”

 We walked down the stairs; there stood, Long. “We’re leaving,” I said.  

“Will I see you, tomorrow,” he asked with a smile?

I looked at Rick. He nodded his head. “Be safe, boys.”

We walked in and Rick sang, “Minibar,” as he danced to the fridge.

“Jacuzzi,” I sang from the door of the bathroom. I looked over my shoulder at Rick.

Rick’s POV.

When Dean walked out of the restaurant after blackening my eye I came to my senses; the thing that I loved most had just written me off. I don’t think I’ve ever hurt so badly. I went back to the Hotel and waited for him. I was so sure he would come back. He didn’t. I flew all night to get home. I walked into Long's office and sat down. I shook my head back and forth. Fuckin water just slid from the corners of my eyes. “I’ve fuck up so bad. I am sorry, Mr. Long. He hates me now.”

“Well? It appears to me, Mr. Afro-Ken-doll is having second thoughts. You’re a real ass, Rick. I thought more of you. I really like, Cooper. He cried where you’re sitting this morning. It hurt to see that. It’s your fault. What are you going to do about that, Hollywood?”

“I’m going to fix it.”

I saw Dean sitting on the stage. His legs hung over the edge and his head was down. The sound in the room was loud but as I got closer to him the noise became less and less until you could hear a pin drop.

He sat next to me on the bed. We toasted each other with little bottles of vodka. “I won’t be your fuck buddy, Rick.” He started. “I want more than that.” He said.

In his way, he was reminding me what I told him months ago. How could I be so fuckin stupid? I had the best I would ever have and I almost threw it away; for what? Dean seemed to take it all in stride. The applause and attention turned me into something I didn’t recognize in the mirror but Dean talked to everybody. We missed more than one plane. I touched his lips with my finger. “I want these to only kiss me.” I cupped his bulge. “I want this to be mine and only mine.” I reaffirmed. “And if I could reach that million dollar ass of yours.” My eyes started burning. “I’m so… fuckin sorry, Dean.” I sobbed. My face fell into his lap.

After a while, “Are you done, or do I need to slap you?” He asked rubbing my back.

I looked up, “Didn’t you say something about make-up sex? He reminded.

“Dean. Make a baby with me.” I pleaded.

“Oh, Fox News would love that.” He said as he stood and started taking his clothes off.  

“Do I have to wash my self, Swanson? Or are you going to help me?” he questioned headed to the bathroom.

We washed each other and Dean led me to bed. I don’t think there was a spot he didn’t kiss. I could tell by his moves, Dean wanted to make a baby with me. He made soft and tender love to me as he whispered my name over and over. Each move of his body was slow and methodical; I knew he was trying to make me cum.  “Dean? I love you and I’m so sorry for how I’ve been.” I said as he lay on me. “I waited for you to come back to the Hotel and when you didn’t I cried. It has to be both of us. I can’t do it without you.”

“Rick? I can’t do the talk shows and all the morning shit anymore. I just want to be Dean, again. I’m tired of being manipulated; I’m tired of being exploited and talking the same story over and over.  I want to go to school and tell my girlfriend that I have a boyfriend. I do have a boyfriend, don’t I?” Dean lifted his head from my chest wanting an answer.

“There’s going to be a lot of broken hearts knowing you’re off the market, Cooper; more because I’m off the market; but yes, you have a boyfriend, Dean.”

We napped and after waking showered and got dressed. Dean wanted to take his boyfriend out for dinner.

Dean’s POV.

I admired Rick from across the table; he really was hotter than fuck with my dead children swimming inside him. He was on his phone and looked at me saying to whomever, ‘We’ll be there.’ I suddenly realized everything I’d told him fell on deft ears.

He hung up and said, “They want us in New York, on Monday,” as he smiled and took a picture of himself.

“My fans just can’t get enough,” he boasted. “What are we going to eat?” He asked.

I folded the menu and set it aside.

“I’ve lost my appetite. I won’t be going to New York, with you, Rick.” I said standing. “While you spent every minute on Facebook and Twitter I talked to our Hosts about the real reason we were there. I talked to people in the audiences; victims.  Parents of kids who have committed suicide cried talking to me. I have been networking across the country and I know what I’m here to do. There isn’t a we, Rick. I wish it could be us but there isn’t room for me.” And I turned to walk away.

“Why are you so jealous? Can’t you just enjoy this with me and not feel so sorry for yourself because I’m getting all the attention.” He slammed back as he followed me to the door.

I came to a stop and turned shaking my head. “Are you really that fuckin full of yourself?” The thought just made me want to laugh. “Are you so self-absorbed, that you believe, the shit spewing from your mouth?” I asked looking at all the eyes staring at me.

He calmed. “Dean? Is this a fight?” he asked with that tilted head of his.

I knew what he was asking. “No Rick. This is what the end looks and feels like. It hurts like hell.” I told him as I pulled on the door.

“If you walk out that door, Dean;” I heard him threaten as it closed behind me.

I just walked. My car was still being refurbished so I just walked. I thought about the last two months; all the shit. It was shit. I allowed myself to be handled, let others tell me when and where to go. It’s not like I didn’t love all the attention too. I knew that the last ninety days had changed me; changed who I was, and who I would become. But more than all the attention; I took advantage of the exposure and the people I met. I had been pitching my idea to the powerful with money, big money; superstars. I had cell phone numbers I never should’ve had and if I called it would be answered, I knew that.  

I stood at the bus stop in the morning, it was embarrassing. I saw Jeff slow to a stop and ask if I wanted a ride. I accepted.

“Limo not show up?” Jeff asked, in the cockiest of tones when we reached about forty.  

“Stop the car. Let me out. I don’t need shit from you,” I told him reaching for the door handle even though he wasn’t slowing down.

“Ouch. Is there trouble in paradise?” He asked but went on. “Look D, I’m sorry. But really, though? Rick? That’s what you like?” He finished.

I just gave him a look. But as I looked I saw his white-blond hair and the big violet eyes with double lashes. I noticed his arms stretching the t-shirt he wore and my eyes went down to his lap and the straining seams in his pants. And he opened his legs a little. I looked up and he had a smile as he watched me try and act like my eyes had been looking out the window. I was busted thinking about him naked. I’m not gay. Well, what the hell?

“That was quite a seen you two love-birds put on last night. Must be a real bitch being under a microscope. Better you than me, though.” He finished.

I sat as he drove. How did he know? Oh, shit. I pulled out my phone and turned it on. Fuck me. There were ten different angles and audio. Fuck me twice. “Better you,” Jeff said again.

We pulled into the parking lot and there was a group around Rick’s new Mustang. People were taking pictures of him with others and he worked the crowd. I felt sick. How had I never seen this side of him? He’d played me. Rick wanted to do the assembly only to improve his own popularity. He bought my help with a blowjob. That’s why he had done everything. The subject matter meant nothing. I would have done it anyway without the blowjob. It was just the right thing to do.

It’s not like I didn’t love what we were doing too. But while I went to a middle school or a high school, Rick would be absent; growing his fan base. If we were live or recorded somewhere I wanted to do lunch at a school. I insisted. That’s shit I can’t forget either. If you want a true picture of a school visit them at lunch or in the morning when they get off the bus.  I went to an elementary school in Chicago, one day; it was the first time I’d been to a primary. Most of the kids recognized me but there were two tables that showed no interest. And then I realized. Did it extend that far? I watched. Of course, it did; probably the biggest victims.  

I walked away from the kids who knew me and right up to the twenty-five who didn’t. I helped open milks; I kept one from taking the others. I walked behind prompting meal and not desert; always smiling. Bullying knew no boundaries. Even the special needs kids understood that.

I think Jeff did it on purpose. He slowly drove right by them and Rick couldn’t help but see me. We parked about four cars away. I got out and walked to the doors without looking back. As I moved the memories came; the memories of Rick.  I thought about the first and second time with him. He was more than I was ready for. I remembered him in all the beds we’d slept over the last two months. We were treated as adults but we were just a couple of high school boys.

When I walked in there seemed to be a split. People moved to one or the other side of the hall. I stopped in the atrium and turned in a full circle. Fuck. I closed my eyes for a second. I felt it. Everything was wrong.  I heard a commotion and turned. Fuck again. Rick and Jeff seemed to be having an issue as they walked in the doors. How had everything gone to shit so fast? I wondered. I heard the voice.

“With a purpose, people; move along.” And his hand came to rest on my shoulder. “Looks like the ‘shit storm’ isn’t over yet, Cooper.” I felt my eyes burn. “My Office? He asked. I nodded.

With my head down I walked by people talking about something private for me that everyone knew about. I was so glad I hadn’t cried. That’s what I was thinking. It had hurt that bad telling Rick about himself. I stood at Long’s window. I remembered back seeing the blue lights at the gate. I remembered him looking at me during halftime when I dumped on POTUS. And I remembered the look of pride in his eyes as he looked at me on ‘The Ellen Show.’ It seems so long ago now.

“I’m sorry, Bill. I guess there’s no predicting the Corse of a shit storm, is there?” I questioned.

He walked up behind me and rested both hands on my shoulders. “Pass the torch, Dean. There are others who will fight this battle. Don’t let the storm kill you, it will if you let it. You’re just a kid,” and he squeezed.

The first bell rang and seconds later the fire alarm went off. Long walked out and looked at a panel with a red light. I followed him. Kids were evacuating and then a boy who was hysterical with blood all over him fell into Longs arms. He wasn’t hurt. He pointed to the boy’s bathroom.  I followed, not knowing what else to do. He pushed the door open and I was on his heels. I saw him on the floor. Rick looked so, calm, as the blood drained from him.

“I’m so fuckin sorry, Dean. I would never ever hurt you.” He calmly said; the color leaving his face  

Rick had cut his wrists. And I fainted.

I woke on the bathroom floor with ammonia swabs up my nose; Rick was gone but his blood was everywhere. I was put on a stretcher and strapped down; I panicked. I can’t imagine what I must have looked like when they wheeled me past all the kids. When they put me in the aid car I got a shot of something and by the time we got to the hospital I had thrown up and pissed myself. I had stopped breathing and evidently was allergic to whatever they gave me. Who would have known it’d stop my heart.

It was a strange feeling. The closest thing I can compare it to is ‘gas at the dentist.’ I was floating upside down and slowly spinning; like it was dark out and the stars shined. And I was just numb. Then I jerked. I was smacked with a memory, and it hurt.  Rick? It was when I first saw him. I’d spiked him in the face playing volleyball and was holding his head in my lap when he opened his eyes. I was slammed again; this one lit me up. Rick. He was on top of me, his hair tickling my nose. He was in me making us one. If this is the end, I’m ok with that.

OK. I just got hit by a fucking bus. I am chocking because something is shoved down my throat and my body is on fire. OK. That bus just backed over me. I’m not chocking now and I think the flames have been put out. I hurt everywhere. My heart started. What’s the last thing I remember? Not good. Shit is firing off in my brain like forth of July. It’s like I have nothing but hands slapping me with memories and I can’t make them stop; then floating again. I like this part. It feels good. “Hello, People. I’m throwing up over hear.” Now there is noise, bright light, and I want to float again.

Shit is coming clear now. I see a TV and then looked around the room. My mom is sitting in a chair by the window and I turn back to the TV. It had to be; FOX fucking News. “It appears both Rick Swanson and Dean Cooper were stoned on something. The Police are saying it was an attempted suicide, gone bad.”

I hear some sort of alarm and the next thing I know I’m waking up again. My throat hurts. The TV is still on. The sound is off but I can hear it. It’s us; a clip when we were on Ellen. That was one of the first things we did; when it was good, when I thought Rick and I were on the same page. I watched. Tears just flowed. I don’t know where they came from.  I saw Long’s face at the door and motioned him in. He rested his hand on my chest with such sadness. I blinked my eyes like ten times trying to stop the water. The arms of his suit were still red with Rick’s blood. He’d used both hands to stop the bleeding.

“Is he?” I asked with a voice I didn’t recognize.

He nodded. “He’s ok, Dean.” He said with a pat to my chest.

For some reason, I had never felt more vulnerable in my life. I cried. Not like a little kid. Not like someone in pain. I don’t know what it was like but Bill, sat with me until I calmed. Somehow I wasn’t embarrassed. Think about it. I was only seventeen years old and all the shit I’d been through. I guess I had nothing to be embarrassed about.

My phone went off and Long dug through my shit and handed it to me. Caller ID. Unknown.  “Mr. Cooper? Mr. Hank’s, wanted me to call. I am his publicist, Mr. Winston.”  I listened as the man on the other end told me what to say. He knew the story; don’t know how. When he finished I thanked him and told Long to get the doctor.

Two hours later I was downstairs fully dressed. “It’s embarrassing, really.” I started. “You guys know the schedule we’ve had. We were in the bathroom and Rick’s blood sugars dropped. Somehow he hit his head on the sink and went down.” I said to the cameras and microphones.

‘What about you?’ Someone asked.

“I saw blood. I fainted. Guess I won’t be a doctor. Look. We didn’t ask for this. All we did was an assembly for our school and then; everyone wanted us. Last night was a thing gone wrong. Rick and I have been on the road for two months. We had a fight, ok?  We’re only seventeen, for Christ sake. We hadn’t really slept in days and survived on chips washed down with Rock Stars. We should both be dead or passing kidney-stones.” I continued.

“Rick is fine and he’s as embarrassed as I am. We’ll both be in school day after tomorrow.”

That was hard. I don’t think there was one truth in that but it went to press and there was no pushback.

I sat looking at Rick; he was asleep. In spite of everything, I was still done with him. So I thought. You know what it’s like when you love someone? You know what it feels like when you realize your seventeen and IN love with someone; another guy, in North Dakota. Fuck. I’d found out that Rick had been slammed on his beloved Twitter and FaceBook. Hate and nasty shit had gone out after the restaurant incident putting him where he was now. Rick had become a victim; circumstance had pushed him to a place many before had gone.

We arrived at school two days later; Rick picked me up but we didn’t talk. We walked in together and there was applause but no response from us. It hurt because this was just a show we put on for our school. I didn’t want to spoil my contacts and Rick was racking up bucks on the ‘Go Fund Me’ account he’d set it up for himself weeks ago; just proving my point.

I was called to the choir room by the teacher after the second bell. I walked into an empty room; Rick was in front of a piano. I turned to walk out; Long was standing there. “Don’t close the book on him yet, Cooper.”

I listened as he started to play and sing. “When I’m wary: feeling small. When tears are in my eyes, you dry them all. You’re on my side, when times are rough; when you’re my only friend around. You’re my bridge over troubled waters.” He looked at me. God Damn him. Long pushed me in and closed the door behind me. I watched and listened. I felt the pain he was in. I wanted to. I so fuckin wanted to. I didn’t know he could play the piano. I didn’t know he could sing the way he was. There was a lot about him I didn’t know, but what I did.

Now he sang to me. It was all about me. He loved me. I knew that. But can love concur all? I knew what he was doing. I could hear it in his voice. He was calling me to him. He wanted us sitting side by side singing to each other. I couldn’t. I turned and pushed the door open leaving him sitting singing to himself. I shouldered passed Long and walked to the Parking Lot.

 I walked up the two-block driveway singing to myself. “Hello, darkness, my old friend. You’ve come to comfort me again.” I sang as I walked. I knew it wasn’t Rick’s mustang next to me. “Want a ride, D?” Fuckin Jeff. I shook my head no and kept walking.

Jeff raced by and stopped a hundred feet up the road then got out of his car. I walked up and kept walking right on by. He stepped up and fell into pace. He didn’t say anything for a minute.

“If you can’t tell Jeff, now is not a good time,” I growled at him. My phone rang, Unknown.

“Why do you hate me, Coop? I’ve never done a thing to you.” Jeff asked with such question. I had to stop.

“I don’t hate you, Jeff,” I assured, questioning why he would say that. I shook my head as reinforcement to the statement.

“You never wanted to do anything with me. In school, I never get as much as a nod. Even Donny gets a nod.” He finished.

“And what is that suppose to mean?” I asked with a strange tone stepping closer.

“It means I know about your little group and that kinky fuck, Donny. Everyone can see what’s going on with Rick. What’s wrong with me? I gave you every opportunity. Why wasn’t I good enough for you?” He finished.

“You leave Donny alone. Shits has been done to him to make him what he is. Leave him alone, Jeff. Please.” I looked at him and thought about what he’d said.

Well, that was a mouth full and took me by surprise. “Really? Do you want to do this now standing on the side of the road? Fine. You’re too fucking pretty, Jeff, OK. You’re perfect. You always have been. Until today and your little emotional outburst, I would have sworn you were; well. Are you happy now?” I turned and started walking again leaving Jeff standing there with a fish-face.  

I pulled out my phone. Unknown had left a message. I listened. I stopped and listened again. A CBS executive wanted me to return his call; something to do with the AMA’s. Jeff pulled back up next to me.

“Cooper. I’m going home too. Come on, we live a block apart.” I stopped. He opened the passenger’s door from the driver’s side. Fuck. I got in. He kept looking over at me as I looked straight ahead.

“You really think I’m Perfect?” He questioned.

“Stop the fuckin car.”

“You know I can’t help how I look, right? It shouldn’t be a bad thing. You’re kind of pretty yourself, you know.”

“Stop the car,” I said resting my hand on his bicep. Bad move.

His skin was almost hot and it felt like my hand was melting into him. I tried to pull away but couldn’t. He rested his hand on mine and looked at me. “Come to my house. No one will be home for hours.” Jeff offered in the softest voice. I thought about it.  I knew what could and probably would happen if I went with him. I had crushed over Jeff for years; since we were fourteen. When I saw him in the shower last year after P.E.; I boned up so fast I couldn’t even shower and had to dress and get out of there.

“Take me back to school. Take me back to school or let me out, Jeff.” I directed pulling my hand from under his.

I was glad I had my seatbelt on. Jeff hit the brakes. “Fine, Get out. Answer me this though, D. Why?” He asked as I opened the door.

After closing the door he rolled down the window. “Why, Coop?” He had the saddest look.

I leaned down, “I don’t know what kind of rules you and your buddies play by. We didn’t talk about it, Jeff. There was no emotion or feelings; it was exempt sex. I knew those rules could never apply when it came to you, Jeff. I would never be able to kiss you or hold your hand regardless of how much I wanted to. I couldn’t hold you after because that wasn’t done. That would have just never worked with you. I’m sorry; I have to ride this storm to the end.”

“Get in. I’ll take you back,” he said shaking his head. “You really know how to break a guy’s heart, you know that?”

He dropped me off and I went to the Library looking for a study room. I pulled out my phone and listened to the message again. I returned the call.

“Mr. Cooper, I’m so glad you called me back. I am under heavy pressure here. We want you to be part of the AMA’s. You have made an impression on a large group who say they will boycott if you aren’t there.  We will fly you; we’ll take care of the clothes. And there’s a thirty-five thousand dollar gift bag. You would have a suite. Why do all these people want you?”

I wondered the same thing. “Why us?” I asked.

“Us? It’s you they want.” I understood now. My networking had paid off, I had people offering me money to start something; Ellen offered one-hundred thousand dollars. I didn’t need to start something, I needed to help what was already out there.  

“Can I do a Video? I’m so sick of flying.” I asked thinking about doing something alone.

“You can have your own Gulfstream. A video won’t cut it. This is big shit here, Mr. Cooper. We are talking tens of millions. Your friends are pitching a serious hissy fit.”

“When,” I asked?”  

“It’s in ten days. We would need you for sound checks but you could come in two days before. Who are you and why is there so much shit going on?”

“I’m just a kid from North Dakota who wants to raise a hundred million dollars. How much can I put you and CBS down for?” I expected the long pause.

“I need a few minutes,” I told him. “I’ll text you in thirty.” And I ended the call.

I thought about doing something without Rick. I had a good idea who the hissy fitters’ were. I’d been star-struck more than once over the last few months. Rick really should have been there but he was growing his fan base. Sounds like Waldo doesn’t it.  The room closed in around me. I was pissed at Rick. I thought about what it would be like being on prime-time with the cohorts who had loomed on to me. I texted back, “Tell me when and where.” I was letting it happen again but I knowingly allowed it this time. If I ever reach my goal I can pass the torch and this shit storm might finally come to an end for me.  So much had happened. I talked to my Mom and gave her a rundown leaving out the stuff that she didn’t need to hear. I refused to tell Rick and didn’t tell Mom about my goal; those who needed to know; knew. I had talked to the charity; asked them to track shit. Everything had changed; it was the strangest week. Rick and I weren’t anything now, Julie walked the halls with someone else holding her hand; it seemed my only friend was, Mr. Long. He understood the storm. I offered him a ride. He could be my plus-one but declined.

I did my sound check. It was more than the exec said. Pink, Nate, Sting, Kelly C, and Collin Farrell: all had a plan. I didn’t know. It was made clear to me when we got back to the Hotel. I was drug to a private bar where John Legend sat at the piano. God, I wished Rick was here. I was treated as a little brother who had done something extraordinary. Pink put her meaty arm around me as we sang together. I fuckin sang with, Pink. The room filled. It was a, whose, who. How did they know who I was? Josh Groban just walked in.

The next day there was another rehearsal and sound check now with even more people. I’d never thought about what it took to pull off a show like this; it was organized chaos.

Do you know what rich is? I mean really rich; Rodeo-drive, rich. I didn’t. Having someone drive and open your door for you? Those were the people around me that night.

“Ladies and Gentleman, Dean Cooper,” a voice from above boomed. I walked out with bright lights in my eyes then up to the podium hardly able to see who I was supposed to be talking to. It was embarrassingly long applause. I suddenly realized where I was and what was happening. I could have pissed myself.

I couldn’t find my voice. A screen came on behind me and testimonials from people started; they were about me. The first one was, Ellen. And then powerful people I’d talked to. It seemed like they went on and on but probably didn’t last two minutes.

“He’s beyond his years.”

“He is so genuine.”

“He came to my school.”

“He deserves this.” Those were things said about me. There was more applause; on their feet. I was embarrassed about seeing the last frame. I don’t know who took the picture, didn’t know where we were or the plane we were on; Rick and I. We were side by side, our heads resting against the others as we slept. It was a beautiful picture and told the story of what all of this had done to us. I clapped looking at it.  

I wished I had written something. I was so sure I had this; I didn’t need anything, I’d go off the cuff. I was so wrong. Thank god for Tom Hanks. I watched his shadow walk up and there was more applause.

We started a dialog. “Hey, Dean.” He inquired now standing next to me with a poke to my ribs.

“Hey, Forrest,” I replied in kind, to laughter.

“Funny kid; really funny; I got a call from Ellen, two months ago.” He said to the audience kind of singing her name. “You know what that means.” And there was more laughter. “And when I met him I was doubly impressed. Tell them, Dean.”

“I didn’t know what we had started; it was just a school assembly. And then the halftime show. Over the last two months I have gone to schools, talked with the kids; they trust me. There is a great need for education around the country on bullying, assaults, bashing, abuse, and suicide. If there has ever been a time it’s now. The biggest hater might be gone but be left behind many brainwashed followers.” I had to stop. “A testicular infection? Really? His balls rotted and killed him? It couldn’t have happened to a nicer guy.” I started to laugh. It was so fuckin funny. Everybody laughed.

After calming, I said, “I’d like to see interactive assemblies all across the country; starting at Elementary level. It’s going to take a generation before we can get back to just where we were two years ago. But that costs money. They tell me, a lot.”

“What did you say to Ellen, Dean? What was your goal; your dream?” Tom asked me.

“I want to raise one-hundred-million dollars for the Trevor Project. What we have today can’t be the New Normal, It just can’t. The hate; it runs so deep now. Two million dollars a state; It’s not enough.”

“Well, Dean.” And he turned me. On the screen was a ticker; like the debt counter in Time Square. It was moving at a blinding speed. What I could focus on was the twenty-nine in the seventh and eighth spots. My knees felt weak.

“Ellen set up a Go Fund me account for the Trevor Project forty-five days ago in your name. We all want you to reach your goal, Dean; go back to being just a kid again.” The crowd gasped. I turned back to the screen. The millions were clicking off; 30, 32, 34.  Tom patted my back and walked off leaving me looking at the clapping audience. The clapping grew louder and people started to stand. I turned and had to smile.  

“There comes a time when we heed a certain call; when we all must come together as one,” Lionel Richie, started.

Behind me stood generations of vocal excellence. I had watched the video hundreds of times. I didn’t recognize all of the faces but the same heart sang tonight as had on the screen behind me decades ago; before I was born. In front of me, a new-old original rang out. I walked behind them and would step in to harmonize. I did Michael’s parts. So many of the originals came, like Kenny. He brought Dolly, who brought Miley. I smiled at Paul Simon, Huey, and Cindy, who brought Rod, Lionel, and Billy. And Grandpa Willy. I sang with all of them thanking Rick for giving me the confidence and wishing he was next to me.

It was so much more than I ever thought. I wasn’t going to do this. That would have been the dumbest thing I could have ever done. I received hugs and kisses from people who I’d never seen before. There were pictures. Twitter lit up; FaceBook, too. And E-Magazine. I did the red carpet. I was everywhere being photo-bombed by superstars. Talk about your head growing; mine was as big as a beach ball. I thought of Rick; I understood now. But this wasn’t about me; It was, but wasn’t. I was just the face behind the message.

I was pulled into a full limo and off to another after-party; I’d arrived in Willy’s bus. I had been up for twenty hours and was chugging Red Bulls like water. I don’t know where the Coke came from but I indulged. FYI, not to promote drug use but, way better than Red Bulls.  I remember some of the stuff, the faces and the singing, the food and drink, and the coke and pills. People hugged me, told me if I ever needed anything; anything at all, help was just a phone call away. I woke at four in the afternoon the next day. Don’t know how I got to my room.

I channel surfed from the bed. I saw myself on many different stations. The light on my phone was blinking. My famous fans; the ones who had pushed me over the top sang my praise. I listened as superstars told me again ‘anything you need.’  The last call was from Mr. Long. “It looks like you can pass the torch now, Mr. Cooper. I think the storm is over. One hundred and three million and still going strong; is that enough for you, Kid?”

I thought about, Rick. I got hugs, words and promises were things that were spoken to me; Rick had tweets. There was nothing personal for him. I had words and promises from people who backed up what they said. I felt the warm soft kisses to my cheek; they would be there if I needed; if I was down and out, my rescuers would come and I would ask for and receive help more than once.

I sat on the Gulf Stream all by my self heading home to Rugby. “We’ve been called back to LA,” Came across the speaker.”

We landed less than an hour after take off. A limo waited. It was the CBS exec. “Mr. Cooper. A lot can happen in twenty-four hours. I have a contract that will pay you fifty-thousand dollars a day for the next four weeks. Do you realize how much money that is?”

I shook my head no not even being able to think. I don’t know how long I stood staring at him. I looked at my phone to recent calls. I scrolled back to the day I was in the hospital. I pushed the button. “This is Dean. I don’t know what to do?” And I explained as I walked around in a circle.

“Give your phone to the man.” I did and watched. I was so happy I called him. There was a lot of nodding on this side.

“We have a suite booked for you. I’m sorry, Mr. Cooper. You can call us after you have rested and talked to Mr. Winston.”

There was nothing said between us and I got out of the car. It was close to midnight. I walked into a room big enough for twelve. I called the number I had earlier.

“Mr. Cooper,” he answered. “I will take care of you for now. Do not talk to anyone. Mr. Hanks will send a car; we will meet for breakfast. Mr. Cooper, there are big things going on. Look, Kid, everyone wants you. Everyone who was at the AMA’s wants to do a song with you for the Project. Dean, you can walk away from all of this. You don’t owe anybody, shit.” He told me.

“What do they want from me?” I didn’t know who or what.

“It’s your friends, Dean. ‘We are the World.’ You are a fuckin genius. If there was ever a time; it’s now. Do you want to raise another hundred million? There are so many who want to be part of this. Quincy, fuckin, Jones. Does that name mean anything to you, Kid?”

I remembered him from the video. I nodded and said yes.

“He wants to do it again. That’s why CBS wanted to sign you. This and the other stuff they want. Don’t sign it. They could stop you from doing anything. I will negotiate a contract for you with SONY. This could be like the biggest thing. Dean, this is way over your head. Let us help you.” He explained.

I nodded to myself. I had no idea what he was talking about. I thought about the video. Forty superstars made a video that changed the world; raised billions of dollars. Is that what was going to happen? Would I help change the world?

From your Author:

You continue to read. ‘I will pat myself on the back for that.’ I ask from a writers perspective; is this doing anything for you. If comments are not left I have no way of knowing. I enjoy telling this story but; I need to know if I’m wasting my time.  Again; thanks to our host, Bjorn. A man who I am sure is softer than his avatar appears. 

RJC.