The Start

by RJC

18 Jan 2019 2171 readers Score 9.1 (412 votes) PDF Mobi ePub Txt


Untouchable

If you take the time to read the next nine thousand words, please comment, email me, or rate. Anything less is just a slap in my face. I don’t think I deserve that. Just saying! I feel the need, to be honest. Because of circumstances’ in my own life and this that happened recently, you have now entered into a bait and switch. No, I’m not going to go off into a bunch of straight sex but, we are going to go off. We all have those things; what I’ll call, a bridge too far, the line in the sand that won’t be challenged. I can cross a lot of lines and I can accept a lot of things but, I don’t know how far I can bend before breaking. If you read and think I am talking about you, I probably am. If you read and think I’m talking too you, I probably am. I have seen and heard many horrible things in my life that helped shape and mold me into the advocate I am today. I am partly responsible for a certain group of offenders to spend years and in some cases life behind bars. I do not apologize for that and as you read you’ll understand a little more about your author.

RJC.


I spent the next week in LA. I sang with Kelly C. I sang with Pink. I harmonized with Kenny and Paul. I sang a track for a new Neil Diamond Record and did a rock-country lick with Keith U. It was the last day that did me in.

Grandpa Willy. We should all be so… lucky. FYI; we don’t get the best weed in North Dakota. We spent an hour on the bus vaping and he told me things. Grandpa had been around; seen and lived through a lot of shit.

We sat in the sound room and I was blazed laughing at him. “You’ve never had sex and you’re singing this song with me. You must be stoned, Kid.”

“I never said I hadn’t had sex. To all of those I’ve loved before.” I started.

“Who’ve traveled in and out our door,” he countered with that smile. I laughed.

I forgot the words. “Come on, Kid. Step up. You can trip later.” And he gave me that toothy smile.

I thought about Grandpa as he sang and hurt washed over me. “To all the girls who’ve shared my life, who are now some one’s else’s wife, I’m glad you came along, I dedicate this song to all the girls I’ve loved before.”

“We faced each other. “To all the girls you’ve loved before, who’ve traveled in and out your door; we’re glad they came along.” I reached for his neck and pulled.

For him, it happened long ago. A person he trusted broke that trust and Willy became the man he is now. His body betrayed him. He enjoyed the wrongness of it; guilt and shame has haunted him for over sixty years and has shaped every choice he’s made.

‘That’s what it does to people, D. It seems innocent at the time. Minds try to rationalize it away, you try to forgive your self and he; what happened to him? How did his life change? Was it an endless cycle of women; maybe men? What choices were made that should have and could have been different? I’m not talking about boys who experiment with consent. We all touch people’s lives. Actions; along with time and space, makes us who we are. Like you and me right now. The things we do to others last lifetimes. Do you understand where I’m coming from??? I saw John sitting at the piano in the next sound room. I sat next to him. ‘Just do what you been doing, Kid. Harmonize with me or just echo; sing a line if you want. I’ll do whatever.” He told me with a smile and a shoulder nudge as he started.

“When you’re weary,” he began. Why this? I asked myself as a smile and tears formed at the same time.

“Feeling down; when friends just can’t be found.” He had no way of knowing. “I will comfort you.” This was too much and I closed my eyes. The music stopped. “You ok, Kid?”

“I’m sittin in a railway station; got a ticket for my destination.” I sang all by myself. John and studio musicians fell right in. “On a tour of one night stands; my suitcase and guitar in hand and every stop is neatly planned for a poet and a one-man band. Homeward bound, I wish I was homeward bound. Home where my thoughts escaping, home where my music’s playing, home where my love lays waiting silently for me. ” I looked at John.

“I’m on your side; oh when times get rough, and friends just can’t be found. Like a bridge over troubled waters, I will lay me down. Like a bridge over troubled waters, I will lay me down.” And he smiled back at me.

“Every day’s an endless stream of cigarettes and magazines. And each town looks the same to me; the movies and the factories. And every strangers face I see reminds me that I long to be homeward bound” I was feeling good about this. I could hear how we sounded.

John finished and he just looked at me. A voice came over the headphones. “What, in, the, hell, was that?”

“That was un-fucking-believable. I want to hear it.” John said.

We listened back with the Mickey ears on and then a voice asked if we wanted to do another. “Are you drunk? We could do another or a hundred, but we’d always come back to this one. Play it again.” Legend told him.

He was right; even I could tell. I did harmonize with him and I did echo. But we were singing from different places; me from mine and him doing his job to make a hit, a hit again. ‘All Proceeds went to the Trevor Project.’ We blended; when we changed from main vocal to the other it was a soft retreat on one and a rise of the other.

“Why don’t you and me, go to dinner, Kid? How did you think of that? It was genius.” He finished.

We walked out and I was looking for a limo; John was walking away and the lights flashed on a Prius. “Get in, Kid.”

When we were pulling out I asked, “You do know my name is Dean, right?”

“Willy got you fried, didn’t he?” John asked with a glance.

He drove and I listened as John shared personal shit that only I was now privy too. I don’t know why but something about me made people want to disclose. By that I mean, they told me the darkest things, things that stole youth and innocents along with virginity. I realized and really should have expected it from John, too. All the people I sang with on this CD did the same thing. We would share some private time; them telling me, and then talk about my goal and the reason behind it. Like Grandpa. No one could understand why a kid would be such an activist when he suffered none of what he was raising money for. I’d never been a victim; no abuse, no molestation or neglect and, no bullying or bashing. I had seen it though; all of it. Where I live in ND; let’s just say the gene pool is small, or some seem to keep it that way.

But I do understand how things like that happen when we’re young and direct us as we age. For boys, it’s hard; things that are wrong. Things out of our control, things we don’t consent to. We can’t help how our body reacts even though we know it’s wrong. It fucks people up. I had talked to a dozen and the common thread was ‘I never wanted it. I didn’t like it. I couldn’t help it. And in one case, I didn’t mean too.’ Boys and girls who were now Men and Women told me the same story.

I don’t know how much time passed and we were in front of a little hole in the wall; literally. We walked in the door and maybe thirty people were having dinner. The sweaty guy we could see through the little window got a smile on his face as he came out and around to John.

“How you doing, Kid? We miss you around here,” he drug out with a hug and a kiss on the cheek.

In spite of the sweat and greasy apron, John embraced him. “It’s hard Pops.”

Pops turned to me and wiped his hand on the apron and held it out to me as John introduced us. I don’t know why but I held out my arms and hugged him. “I’m Dean,” I said in his ear.

Pops announced to the room “Look everybody. The Kid came for dinner; and this here, white boy, is Dean. He’s family.” That’s all it took. A hug and I was family.

People looked up and heads turned to us and all I saw was a sea of smiles. A black man who must have been ninety stood and asked, “Boy? You ain’t doing drugs, are you?”

I couldn’t help but laugh. Personally, I was still baked. “I ain’t doing no drugs, old man. You know me better than that. Now sit your tired old ass down before you take out a hip.” John finished laughing.

“Kid, you ain’t so high and mighty that I can’t still open up a can of ‘whoop ass’ on you.” And John walked over and helped him sit as he started to cough. He placed a kiss on the top of the old man's head.

“You’ve always been a good boy, Kid.” Old Leroy told him.

Some people talked to him and us, and others left us alone. I don’t know what I ate but I do want to eat it again. When we left there were hugs; even for me. Things were said in ears and kisses were laid on cheeks. And I had the warmest smile plastered on my face. We came to a stop in front of my hotel; both of us silent looking straight ahead. We turned and looked at each other. John told me that I was now on his list of people to respect and admire. And then he asked for my phone. I handed it over and he gave me his number and sent himself a text. He pulled out his phone and assigned a contact then showed it to me. ‘Kid’ and my number were on the screen. He handed me back my phone; “Give me a hug, Dean.” And I did. “If you find yourself in LA, call me, we’ll go to dinner again.” And he patted me twice on the cheek before I got out.

I rode up the elevator and walked down the hall then into my room. My cheeks hurt. My smile had been so big because I’d realized why he called me, Kid. I stood on the terrace thinking about today. No one in the restaurant called him by name. It was Kid, Boy, Son, Honey, or Jr. All terms of endearment. I was so lucky to be part of that. And John Legend felt enough about me to assign a name that people he loved called him. Life doesn’t get much better than this.

I could leave anytime I wanted; ‘I had a private-fuckin-jet, after all.’ CBS had brought me here and it was up to them to get me home in the same fashion they brought me even if I didn’t sign their contract. I was a minor, after all. So I decided to stay for a day or two just to bum around. Ever done UBER? I did all the shit. I lay in bed looking at his face; my contact picture for Rick. My finger had hovered over the call button so many times, but the lines run both ways. He hadn’t called me even after the AMA’s and I never called him. I did follow his Twitter and FaceBook; things weren’t looking up for him especially with me doing the show. My cell went off in my hand; Long. “Hello.”

“Look, Kid. What are you doing, Mr. Cooper? The storm ended and you want to chase a bigger one. I just don’t understand you, Dean.” He finished.

I stuck on his second word, ‘Kid.’ And I smiled. “I’m coming home, Bill. Just so you know, I don’t think things will ever be normal again. I’m sorry about that.”

“Cooper? I haven’t seen Swanson sense you left. He answers when I call and just says, “I can’t.” I don’t want to load you with this, but.”

I don’t know how much time passed as I thought about what he said. “But what Bill?” I asked suddenly pissed. “I’m seventeen years old. I have been in the middle of, what you call, a cat five shit storm, for the last three months. And now you think I can handle you telling me about Rick. Is this something to make your self feel better? I’m all alone Bill. Do you want to push me to the bathroom and hear about me being found by the maid? You bastard! I’m just a fuckin Kid.” I ended the call and ignored his returns.

The next day I was back on a small G550 looking at snow on the ground. I felt like shit. My luggage was put in the back of a car as I got off the plane. It was an hour drive to Rugby and I walked into the house at supper time. “I’m home, mom,” as I walked up to my room.

A few minutes later she knocked. I was totally expecting it. “Come down for supper, Honey. We can talk later.” I smiled to myself.

We ate supper together. We didn’t talk much considering I had appeared on the AMA’s and started a movement that might never come to an end and had been gone for ten days. “Mom, do you know what a shit storm is?” I asked. “I need to get a passport and have you guys sign a POA.” I finished. Thinking back it was kind of blunt.

“Dean, you’re talking crazy. Why do you need a passport? And why do we need to sign a Power of Attorney for you?” She questioned.

“Really Mom? I wish I could tell you guys how bad it will be. You can’t predict something like this.” I tried to convey.

“You’re scaring me, Dean. Did you really raise one hundred million dollars?” She asked in disbelief.

“It’s more than that now, Mom. I think we might raise another hundred, maybe more. I need you to sign a POA so I can give it all away.”

I guess I was fortunate to speak and do for myself with little interference from my parents but now was the time to come clean with them and I needed some parenting. I told them about all the news shows, told them about the talk shows, and who was nice and who wasn’t. And then I told them about the things I had seen and heard; things that changed me. I told them about my last week, what I had done and the people I did it with; people that felt like family to me now. I was the little brother to so many big brothers and sisters. I explained that in a couple of weeks we would be promoting the songs along with the CD and video. That meant traveling and that could mean out of the country.

I had already promised to appear in Japan for one of my sister’s concerts, I knew there would be more. My phone rang. “Mom, I have to take this.” And I hit speaker.

“Mr. Winston,” I answered.

“Mr. Cooper. Do you remember me telling you things were moving fast? Well, there is a buzz now and you are in the middle of it. I’ve talked to Mr. Hanks and we both agree you need to bring someone on board to guide you; we have a person in mind.” He paused.

“Dean? This is Forest.” And I laughed. “Dean, you are doing a noble thing but you need to protect yourself, finically. Giving everything away may seem all fine and dandy now but, later on down the road; gas, grass, or ass; nobody rides for free. Are you following me?”

“Nobody is taking anything. Everyone is doing this for the Project.” I said now pacing in the living room. “How can I expect to be paid? I can’t do it. I won’t.” I told him.

“Dean, everybody is getting something but you. They may not be making money directly but, they are making money; a lot of it. Being associated with you right now gains popularity, popularity sells out concerts, sells albums, and in my case; buys tickets to movies. Are you following me yet?” He finished.

“So you have been playing me? Helping me so people will go to your movies?” I was getting pissed, actually holding the phone out as I yelled coming to grips with what he was telling me.

“Dean? If you really believe that; even a little bit, hang up right now.” And it was quiet. I thought about it. I trusted Ellen and she trusted Tom. That was good enough for me.

“I’m sorry.” I humbly admitted. “I trust you. So who is this person?” I asked.

Winston was now on the line. “You had us for a minute there, Kid. Now don’t be pissed, Dean. I opened a trust for you; the four from Sony is in that trust. You will get a card if you haven’t already; just activate it and you can access whatever you need. We’ll meet in Seattle in a day or two and talk it over. I will text you. Are you OK, Kid?” He finished.

“Can I sleep in my own bed for a night? I need to talk to someone. Several people actually. I need a few days.” I told them. I really did.

“Don’t talk to anyone other than friends, Dean. And don’t give anything away. Under the radar will only make things bigger. Don’t do anything stupid between now and then.” And the line was dead.

“Mom, don’t worry. I think they have it covered. Just do what they ask. I’m going to bed.” She just looked at me; her mouth kind of hung open, fish-face like, having listened to the conversation. I felt like the grownup in the room looking at them.

She walked to the table and picked up some mail handing it to me. “What did he mean when he said, Four, Dean?”

“Four, Mom, four million dollars. I’m going to bed.” It didn’t faze me until a few days later. I climbed the stairs to my room and I have to admit, I thought about Rick. I had so much shit going on; it had been two weeks since I’d left but my room; it was my room. I turned off the bedside light after getting under the covers naked. I looked at Pictures of him on my phone; remembering Rick in different settings, in turn, different positions. I hadn’t taken time for myself in a while ‘if you know what I mean’ and I took hold of what was between my legs. I closed my eyes as I blindly reached for the drawer that held my slippery concoction. I thought of Rick as I drizzled up my shaft and I went at it slow; wanting to prolong my sad misery. I wondered as my hand moved up and then down; what’s Rick been doing?

What the fuck? Where did Jeff come from? He now filled my thoughts; his violet eyes, long lashes, and that bulge in his jeans. I undressed him, his shirt disappeared and the hair on him seemed white, almost Tran lucid. I saw my hands on him; feeling with my fingers. Down his firm arms, I ran my hands then down his chest and abs. I explored his white flesh with my hands and fingers. I knelt in front of him and unbuttoned his 501s watching the blond fan unfolded and his perfect. Rick had me as I had him, my dick was looking at me and my tongue reached out; Jeff’s nipple!

I teased it, ran my tongue around it, and I was working my way down. I know I said I really didn’t like dick in my mouth but, Jeff, finally. I imagined what he’d be like; I was in a jack off frenzy. Jeff wanted every part of me and I couldn’t help but give it to him. He pushed his hot rod in my mouth and I showed him what I was capable of. I had been complimented before and I wanted him to do the same. I took a deep breath and saw Ricks face; a look I’d seen before. I reached out, my hands almost touching him. Rick looked at me the way he would; the look that was more than sex; Rick loved me. I came hard. Cum splashed on my face, neck, chest, and stomach. I slept well.

In the morning I sat on the steps watching Long’s van park. He walked by asking, “My office?” as he passed. I followed.

“I’m sorry, Bill. I really am. I was just lonely when you called. I shouldn’t have said what I did.”

“You were right, Kid. I should’ve never told you what was going on. I’m just worried about, Swanson. He hasn’t gone to any of the counseling sessions and hasn’t been to school. Have you seen anyone, Dean?” Long finished. I shook my head, no.

“You need to. I am.” He told me.

“As much as I want to see him, I don’t think he wants to see me, Bill. I ruined everything for him, became what he wanted to be. Bill? What you thought was a shit storm was just some rain. But that shit storm is brewing. I think I’m going to have to leave school.” I finished.

“We’ll work something out.” He told me.

“Can I stay today?” I asked.

“There is always room for you under my roof, Mr. Cooper.” He replied.

“Thank you, Mr. Long,” I said respectfully as I turned and walked out.

OK. Not a normal day. People were all over me. Think about it. I appeared on the AMA’s, sang with generations’ of singers, I stood next to Forest as millions ticked off. And I had been off the grid for ten days. It was not a normal day. I sat at my table during lunch. People came by and said hi or just patted my back but nobody sat. It seemed kind of strange. A figure rested in front of me. It had to be Jeff. He had been in my thoughts last night and the smile I saw on his face told me he knew that. Don’t know how.

“Dean? Do you want to leave?” He asked.

I smiled at him thinking about it. “I haven’t been here in weeks and you want me to skip-out?” My phone rang. I answered to, unknown.

“Is this Dean Cooper?” the British caller asked.

“Go ahead,” I replied.

“My name is John, Elton John. Would you be willing to come to Vegas? I’d be honored to have you at one of my shows.” He waited.

“I would love to do that but I have to meet with someone first. I can’t commit to anything. Do you understand? Do you know Winston? You could talk to him.” I finished.

I ended the call and sat looking at Jeff. He really had all the shit; those fuckin eyes and the double lashes. His face had this peaches and cream shit going on, and then there was that seam stretching crotch. You could see the popping biceps, his pecks stretched the front of his shirt, and I knew the buttons of his 501s were holding back something that I’d been thinking about; a lot.

A hand rested on my shoulder as my hand was reaching to rest on Jeff’s. A voice said, “Beat it.” Rick. Jeff got up, flipped him the bird, and walked away.

“Long says you aren’t going to counseling, Rick?” I announced as he sat on the table in front of me and rested his feet on the seat next to me.

“Well, if it isn’t the wonder boy.” He slapped me with. He was shaking his head with a look in his eyes.

After an extra long pause, “Well, if it isn’t the boy I love.” That stopped him cold. I knew it would.

“You never loved me, Dean. How could you? I only thought about myself, never about what you did. I didn’t give a damn about anybody but me. You bastard; I wish I’d never met you.” He finished. I knew he was lying when he said that.

“Well, I do love you; the person you became, not so much, but you Rick; I do love you. Rick? Do you understand what’s happened? There would be no Dean, without Rick. We; you and me, have raised over a hundred million dollars to educate kids and try to reverse the hate that the orange man-child unleashed. It was never just me, Rick. It was both of us.” He lowered his head and shook it back and forth. “Rick? There is big shit coming our way; bigger than you can even imagine. Are you OK?” I needed to know.

“If I am next to you, I’m good, Dean. You know all my secrets. Want to get out of here?” My second offer of the day. I nodded.

We got to the bottom of the stairs; “Good to see you, Mr. Swanson. Going somewhere?” Long asked.

“We have an appointment,” I said.

“You have an appointment with what? Mr. Cooper.” He asked back.

“A shit storm, Bill, Sisters. We have an appointment with a pair of a cat-ten shit storm.” He nodded and stepped aside.

We sat in my now refurbished Mustang never leaving the parking lot. Five minutes of silence drug by. I had a hundred different scenarios running through my head; all of them included Rick, and all ended poorly. I didn’t know how to tell him. What would he do? Would he think I didn’t love him? He had tried to commit suicide. Even I could tell he was unstable and that scared me wondering if something I might do or say would set him off. And maybe he’d succeed where he had failed before. I couldn’t include him now; there was too much at risk.

Rick broke the silence. “Have you been stretching, Dean?” He asked.

I couldn’t hold back my smile. “Have you?” I asked. “Rick? Why haven’t you been going to counseling? What happened, Rick? Why?”

“I, I don’t know. I can’t lose you, Dean. I don’t have that stone-cold-bitch, in me, like you do.” He finished. I had no idea where that came from or why; didn’t matter.

The top of my head blew off and splattered all over my new headliner. I yelled, “Get out. Get out NOW.” And I started the car.

With Rick’s feet barely on the asphalt and the door still open, I dumped the clutch and the ass end of the car lit up with blue smoke and the door slammed shut.

Fuck-fuck-fuck, I thought. Now, what if Rick drives his car into a tree or another car on the road; what if he cuts himself again? Is it my fault? I knew he could be a liability either way; I needed help but, who? I drove home; it wasn’t even one in the afternoon but I needed to sleep. When you see someone like I did Rick; blood dripping from him and all color draining from his face; you don’t forget shit like that. Was it my fault? Was it like he said, ‘I can’t lose you?’ Bad thoughts surrounded me but black sleep came.

I deserved what I got. Blood, Rick. I remembered him with such fondness and so much pity. I lay wondering if I was so strong or Rick, just not so much. There was no way I could include him in what was going to happen. He could just go off at the worst time, he could make an ass of me or someone who didn’t deserve it, or he could hurt himself in a dramatic way. I dozed more. I held his face in my hands. I was on the bottom and cupped his cheeks. He loves me; I could feel him in me. I saw his eyes close as he buried himself and I could feel him painting murals on my insides.

After I don’t know how long my eyes opened. Jeff. Why did it have to be his violet eyes that looked down on me? His soft lips were coming closer to mine and I closed my eyes as he kissed me in a way that said ‘I need you.’ Fuck. I kissed him back and ran my hands up and then down to his firm ass. I grabbed and clenched him as his butt hardened into firm muscles. I pulled him into me further as I ground his pelvis against my balls painfully. I know I said I wasn’t really a bottom, but something about Jeff made me want him deeper in me. I woke up creaming the inside of my briefs as the feeling of him cuming in me faded away.

I took a shower thinking about Jeff. But then there was Rick. A light bulb went off in my head and after drying I reached for my phone. I called, Ellen; she answered. I told her the truth about me and Rick then asked for advice. “When your phone rings, answer it, Dean.” That’s all she told me.

It was maybe ten minutes and it rang. “Is this Dean Cooper?” The man asked. “My name is Phil, Phil McGraw. They call me, Dr. Phil.” And he waited.

Dr. Fuckin Phil. Really? After asking if he was a real Dr. and wanting to know if the Ron White, story was true; I told him everything and asked if he could help.

“If I don’t my ass is grass, if you get my drift. It isn’t just your friend; it’s both of you who need my help. Can you come to Chicago?” He asked.

Fuck. I was expected to fly to Washington and meet with someone who would take care of me and this guy wanted me and Rick in Chicago. Rick would come first. Now what? I called Rick hoping he would answer. He did.

“I’m sorry.” I started.

“No Dean. It was all me.”

“Rick if you want to be part of this I need to know you are ok. I want you to meet with someone; he wants both of us. Are you up for it?” I asked.

“I will do whatever you want, Dean. I understand and would do the same if things were reversed. I will talk to whoever you want me too.” He finished.

“We’ll have to fly to Chicago tomorrow and then I need to go to Washington. Rick? You may have to come clean publicly about your attempt before this ends. It could be a good thing. Are you up for that?” I asked.

We landed in Chicago and took a car to HARPO studio. Dr. Phil was a big man; intimating, to say the least. He studied us as we sat across from him for a few minutes before he spoke.

“Are you two together?” He asked.

Rick and I looked at each other not really knowing how to answer.

“It’s complicated,” I stated.

He turned to Rick. “Care to tell me why you thought you needed to kill yourself?” He asked. This guy doesn’t fuck around, I thought. Rick looked at me. Phil snapped his fingers to get Ricks’ attention. “He doesn’t have the answer. It’s a simple fuckin question.” He waited.

Rick looked at him. I could tell by the quiver of his lip that he wouldn’t be able to answer. I leaned forward and attempted to make an excuse.

“I didn’t ask you. I asked Him.” Phil slapped me with. And I sat back in my chair as big tears slid down Rick’s face and his head shook back and forth.

This bald fucker was pissing me off. Rick’s hand reached out to me looking for comfort and I took it immediately. “Dean, I would like to talk to Rick. Would you mind?” And he nodded to the door. What an obstinate fucker he was.

It pained me to drop his hand but I complied. I sat and waited, I walked the halls, and then I went down to the bottom floor and stepped up to the desk. “Does Opera have an office here?” I questioned.

“Who may I tell her is asking?” The tall man questioned.

“Dean Cooper,” I replied.

“A, Mr. Dean Cooper, is at the desk.” He said into the phone.

“I understand,” he returned. And hung up... “This way,” he said.

I followed him into the elevator and he put his key in then the door closed.

I had reserved a room in a hotel and Rick went home with Phil; I was not expecting that. And I wasn’t expecting to go home with Opera. I didn’t like this at all but you can’t say no to her; it just isn’t done. I guess she likes company. And when Phil called me I was relieved.

“He loves you, Dean. I believe him when he says it.” He started. “Do you know anything about some pictures of Rick? You know what I’m talking about?” He asked.

I hadn’t given them a second thought and until now I wondered how they hadn’t come up. Was that Rick’s stressor? Was that why he did what he did? This could be so fucking bad.

“I understand. Tell Rick I had to go home early and his ticket will be waiting. Tell him I will fix this. Tell him I love him, too. Thank you, Dr.”

I told Opera and she understood; she had her car take me to the airport I had flown into this morning and I flew in the dark back home. I was sitting in front of Jerry’s house with my third Red Bull when he came into the morning light.

He walked over and I motioned for him to get in; with a smile on my face. “I wondered when you’d show up. Where’s Rick?” He asked; his look and tone were so condescending.

I pulled away from the curb and backed off when I hit thirty-five. I reached over and rested my hand high on his leg. “It’s been a hell of a ride; I can tell you that. You wouldn’t believe what I can do now.” I started.

“If I wanted, I could hire some guys with AK’s in a black Denali to take out who ever I wanted.” I looked at him and laughed as I pulled my hand back and downshifted.

“I want everything you have on Rick. This is your only chance.” And I came to a four way stop. “See that SUV across the street? It’s going to follow us back to your house and if I don’t walk out with everything you have on Rick; I’m sorry. Do you understand?” I asked. I was selling the biggest wolf ticket.

“You little fuckin punk! I’m not scared of you. I could snap you like the twig you are.” He started. I put the car in natural and set the brake as the SUV now parked across from us.

“If I get out and close the door you’re dead. Think I’m fucking with you?” I was getting pissed. “You are a pedophile Jerry, and Rick is a minor. If your face showed up on the news, how many do you think will come forward? You realize they would never find your body? This could look like a hit on me by whacks and you can die here in the firefight like Bonny and Clyde. You have five seconds. One.” I finished.

Cars behind me started to honk and then went around. I opened the door. “Two.” “Fine; get back in. I’ll give you what you want.” He said.

We were followed back to the rambler and I came out five minutes later after having ‘the talk’ with Jerry. I told him, in no uncertain terms, what would happen if he contacted either of us or if pictures ever surfaced; he wouldn’t see the next day. I walked up to the SUV and the tinted window rolled down half way. I passed a hundred dollar bill to the driver. “Thanks Donny.” And I smiled at his eyes.

I picked Rick up at the airport and drove him home; he was ashamed. I promised him that everything to do with the pictures was gone. Jerry wouldn’t be heard from again and I’d fixed it. I sat as Rick explained ‘kind of’ to his parents and Max why he had been gone and why I was doing everything I was now and Rick wasn’t with me. Rick and I talked for hours in his room and agreed we would talk but no touching. We both understood that we shared love, feelings we had for each other but, life got in the way and distorted everything. We needed step back. We didn’t like it but understood. I returned to the airport and called Winston. I told him I’d meet them in Washington tomorrow and to call me when they arrived. I guess I didn’t need to push myself; forty-eight hours ago I flew to Chicago, thirty-six hours ago I flew back home to North Dakota. Twelve hours later I flew to Washington. I hate flying. I toured the U the next day thinking about Rick and I being here next fall. Washington is so much different than ND. You can be in the desert one hour and in the mountains the next. You can be at the ocean a few hours after that. I want to live here.

My phone rang. “We’re down stairs, Dean” Winston told me.

The door was held open for me and I stepped in, Tom just smiled and Mr. Winston looked at me like he was sizing me up. We drove in silence for a while and Tom said, “Good to see you, Kid.”

“You too, Forest.” I returned.

We came to a halt and all got out. It seemed like the elevator just wouldn’t stop but finally it did. I followed them and we walked into an office and I sauntered up to the window. Bad thing. I was slipping on my own shit trying to back away and started having a panic attack. I don’t know how high we were but we don’t have buildings like this in North Dakota. Tom and Winston along with the other man sat me on the couch and tried to calm me. This was embarrassing but I thought I was going to puke.

They talked; I signed a paper assuring I would go where ever and do what ever Parker Richardson told me. And we left after he handed me a stack of his cards.

Mr. Richardson is a prominent attorney and was a friend of Toms’ and he would be handling everything for me. He waved his fees and said he would only take five percent of what I kept. There was an incentive. We agreed before I left he would never do anything without talking to me first.

I landed back in Minot just after dark. Fuck, five days until Christmas. I thought about all the money I now had; money I felt guilty about wanting to spend some on people I loved. It wasn’t about me; wasn’t about money for me, it was the Project. I drove to the Minot Mall. I walked around. I came to a stop and looked at all the big screens in a window and saw our video playing; We Are The World. It had been released and people were gathered around watching and talking to each other. I smiled at a little boy who was holding his moms hand and he pulled on her. She looked down at him and he head motioned to me. I looked up meeting her eyes.

She turned back to the screens and then back to me. I made a praying hands sign at her and mouthed ‘please’ shaking my head no. She smiled at me and nodded then walked away with her son in tow. I pulled my collar up and walked back out to my car. We don’t have famous people in North Dakota, or didn’t until now. It had started to snow and I just sat and watched wondering how bad this snow would be. I was in the worst possible car for snow and ice; I checked into the Davenport.

The next day I called Ford and explained. I got a 4by4 from the local dealer and they would pick up and keep my ‘one of a find’ Mustang safe. It had snowed a foot over night but that doesn’t shut down school in ND. Two days and then ten days off; I didn’t know what I was going to do with my self when the phone rang on the 23rd.


From your Author:

OK. I got no feedback on the length of chapters so this one was shorter. I like where this is going and I have to ask; do you??? We have taken a turn and I am rewriting so that the bait and switch makes sense and I can share with, D.

Again, and as always: A big Thank you, to our, Bjorn. I think our host is much softer than the avatar he presents. I wonder about, Bjorn. Yes he owns this site and he must make money, but what possesses a soul to do what you do for us? You work endlessly to give to us.

Big kiss!

RJC

by RJC

Email: [email protected]

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