The Start

From your Author:

This; ‘The Start’, has gone on much longer than I ever saw it going. Like many great authors; I can’t come to the end. The topic: gay-sex, self-harm, fame, and life too good to be true. I am vested. I have said before that it was a school shooting that brought this all about. Don’t see school shooting anymore, do you?

 Charity and things bigger than us is another thing I’ve tried including along with other stuff. I understand that few will read a story that grows the theme; read, with NO sex. Thousands read the first few chapters but only a few hundred have read the last ten. Sad. 

I will pose a few statements and questions to you, my readers. Yes, we have a huge drop in school shootings, but not a drop in shootings. We don’t hear on the news about the rise in teen suicide, child abuse, abuse in general. And what about the rise in cyberbullying? Take the ‘Orange Child’ from the equation. 

Kids; maybe yours. What is happening at home while you read this on your phone at work? Those of you who are still working. And what about you at home reading this and don’t really give a fuck what your kid is doing in the next room. Maybe the same thing you are? Take back the parental controls, people.

Do you know? Is your boy or girl crushing on the kid across the street or a couple of floors down? Maybe that kid; with just a look, can scare your child? Do you even know your kid??? All of us are experiencing something new. None of us have been here before and a lot of us are scared wondering if we’ll be here tomorrow. 

  Look at where we are today. ‘The Bug. No different than the flu, is what he said. It will go away when the weather gets warmer; like a miracle, it will be gone.’ I cannot, in my lifetime, remember ‘refer trailers’ being brought into states, cities, and counties, to hold the dead. Now infants in Texas are testing positive. Like it Ain’t warm there? What am I to think???

I have the luxury of this soapbox our host provides, a mouthpiece to those who read. Agree or not; ware a fucking mask or stay home. Lock yourself in a room and go on a porn binge for a couple of weeks. I don’t care. After that, you should be able to go out because the heat; like a miracle, killed the flu.

Now, to those of you who understand. I do what I have to do; nothing more. When I go out I wear a mask and stay away from people the best I can. I am fortunate. I do what I can with the boys, music; lots of music. Pat, is doing on-line stuff with them as the days pass by. I am grateful to her. RJC  

Niki’s POV:

It had become commonplace to see Ryan in the morning when my eyes opened, “hi baby.” Then he’d look at Chiloe sleeping in the cradle her brother slept in next to me two years ago.

He knew I knew; I knew he knew. I knew he knew, I knew. The way he was with her. Talk about hoarding a child. I’d watch how he held her, how his body moved when he’d sing to her, and how in a few short weeks she recognized him.

When she fussed, didn’t want anyone, it was RJ who could calm a bad tummy. “You need to hold her like this,” resting her face down between his knees. “She needs to fart. Her little belly is full of gas from; sorry Niki, mothers milk.”

How did he fucking know that? I wish I knew that with Dean. Ryan needed to go back to work; well, he didn’t need to work, but had so much he wanted to do. He’d been caught up in the fame of it all, people listened when he said something. News wanted to know what he thought about things, and he always had something to say.

He tried; I saw it. He’d hand her off to Donny or Jeff, saying she wanted them, but knowing what would happen. After a while, they’d give up trying to please little C, and give her back. I never should have started pumping because Ryan started feeding her. She stopped nursing off me altogether and only wanted the bottle that was filled from my tap and held by him as she ate.

RJ was back to work; giving work new meaning. We all had talked about it; his weight. Ryan was bulking up, and not in a good way. I mean the hair wasn’t so bad but he’d developed a gut. I’m sure Robby had pointed it out but I got the opportunity.

We met on the deck earlier than people should be up; the click-clack of the bridge. “You looked good on the awards show. How long you gonna keep getting bigger suits; slim?” And I waited.

“Now, that was, just cold, Niki. I add a couple of pounds and you can’t wait to tell me about it. I didn’t say anything about it when you were big.” And he stopped.

I cupped them, pointed them right at him, dared him to say another fuckin word because I could hit him in the eyes with a stream.

 I should have chosen my words more carefully, “How long has it been since we, sweated together, Chancellor?”

So when shit just slides from your mouth, the brain having nothing to do with what dribbles out; that’s when you cough. And I did. I didn’t mean it like that but that’s what I thought about. We ran together, pushed each other the way all of us did. But the last time we sweated together?

His look was one I’d never seen before; I thought I had seen them all. “You’re right, Niki. It’s been too long. On the dock in ten.” And I thought I’d gotten out of that fairly well.

He was out of shape, lagged embarrassingly behind. RJ was out of breath before we got to the end of the ramp but pushed on. We ran across the bridge and into the arboretum, through some trails, and back across the bridge.

We stopped and sat on the bench, the same bench we sat on the day after I met him. I thought I might have to call an aid car; the way he was breathing. There was so much that we wanted to say but sat in silence. “Nicole.” He started.

He hadn’t called me that many times and I knew he wanted to tell me something. “Look, Ryan, everybody knows, if that’s what you were going to say.”

“Niki? Did you do this on purpose?”

“I did not rope you into fathering a child for me if that’s what you think.” I checked for my knife.

“We both knew what was going to happen, Niki. I can’t say I wasn’t trying to make a baby. We both know I should have worn a rubber to prevent.”

“You were going to call her an accident or mistake; weren’t you?” I was pissed. And then the hurt set in.

“You have a lot of nerve, Niki. I love that little girl. She wasn’t an accident or mistake, you bitch.” And he caught my hand going for his face.

“You have a lot of balls, Chancellor. First, you insinuate that I trapped you into getting me pregnant; then call me a bitch? Is that any way to talk to your daughter’s, mother?”

“I’m off to class, Rye. Can I have a kiss?” I had No idea how long Robby was there.

They kissed and Ryan asked, “Still on for this afternoon? I got it all set up; gonna be great.”

“Got what set up?” I asked.

“We’re doing a single. Well, a single-plus.”

“What?” And Robby headed off to Gate’s Hall.

“We’re doing a single. My first attempt at a mash-up. Do you think eleven minutes is too long?”

“What are you doing?”

“You’ll have to wait, like everybody else. I’m going by the office before The Studio; want to share a ride?”

“What do you need to do at the office?”

“I’m doing an hour on the lines.”

“When did you start doing that?”

“A while ago. I’m better now Niki. I can handle it if shit goes south.”

“Ryan. Why would you do that? We have people who can handle bad stuff. Don’t put yourself in a situation that could go wrong; you’re not trained.”

“Look, Niki. I’ve come to terms with what happened. No one could have saved him.”

“I didn’t say that, Ryan.”

“I need a shower. I’ll meet you out here in a half.”

The thing with a single perked my interest and I went to The Studio. This morning and what we talked about, Chiloe. What we did, it was all so… fucked up. Now I loved all four of them. They were all Dad’s to my little ones. If I was to pick out one thing they all had in common; it was their fuckin dimples.                   

We shared a ride with both of us on tablets. He did his thing on the line while I signed all the shit I did every week. I need a stamp and someone else can do it.