Somerset Farm 

                                                                                        by Jamie Haze


 Chapter 13

John Wilcott had just about finished explaining why Dylan couldn't use the
Wilcott home as a hideout. "So you see Dylan, you could have stayed here as
long as my sons didn't know that their mother and I knew about them
sleeping together for the last couple of years." John reddened, "I don't
mean just sleeping, ah, er..."

"I know, I know what you mean, they're gay, but what's that got to do with
me?" Dylan saved him from having to say gay, but John still winced on
hearing the spoken word. "I've got millions of fans and I can take my pick
of anyone, any guy if they're gay, would jump at the chance. I just don't
pick; I'm more of a monk than some monks are. That young cop just got me
at a weak moment. I'm normal for Christ's sake. He waved his dick at me and
smiled. He was nervous and jerky, but who wouldn't be if he were trying to
get lucky in a public shit house. He was even half-hard. What was I
supposed to do? I just came back from a shoot in Podunk nowhere Utah, after
four months, where I think even the fucking rocks are straight," his tale
of self-denial was interrupted by the door chime.

"Who the hell?" John wondered out loud, "I'm sure I closed the gate. No one
could possibly know you're here yet." He got up from his chair to answer
the door. Dylan shrugged his ignorance and stayed sitting near living room
glass wall that looked down on the lake in daylight. All he could see then
were streamers of light on the water coming from the building built right
on the water where he knew his attorney caught his sons going at it with a
stranger, another kid.

John opened the door part way and peeked around it. "Yes?" He asked
cautiously after seeing two teenagers and one adult the height of the
shortest teen. He also saw the running lights outlining the shape of a
stretch Mercedes limousine and the driver leaning against the side of the
car watching them all.

Bucky grinned and held out his hand. "Hi neighbor, we meet face to face
after talking on the phone off and on for a couple of years. I'm Bucky
Trenton; this is my son Buck and his buddy Doug Henderson. Your son Paul,
called to say he and Marc were in a bit of trouble with you, because you
arrived home unexpectedly and found them doing some things that might be
better done behind a locked door. He thought I might be able to talk it
over with you." He put one arm over Buck's bare shoulders and the other in
the middle of Doug's back, then just propelled them forward, pushing the
door open and John Wilcott backward all at the same time.

When John thought about shaking Bucky's hand it was already on Doug's back.
Bucky was careful not to allow John the opportunity to speak, by just
continuing while he walked the boys into the living room, leaving John
momentarily standing by himself in the foyer. "The reason Paul thought I
might be able to help is that my son and Doug are very, very good friends
themselves if you know what I mean. In fact they spent last night here and
most of today, so I guess that makes them very, very good friends with both
your boys too."

"What?" John managed weakly, with a glance at Dylan, who was sitting
motionless where John left him a minute before.

Buck and Doug saw him as well. Both of them grinned sheepishly at him and
abandoned the men to talk or shout or whatever. Bucky committed them with
just a few words, and both felt relieved. Buck looked to Doug like he was
about to jump into Dylan's lap, but he stopped himself in time and offered
Dylan his hand. "I guess you heard that about us being very good friends.
If you didn't, well, we are. I'm Buck Trenton," he said then tossed a
thumb at Doug, "and this is Doug."

Dylan stood up and shook hands with both boys. "Friends huh? I should be
so lucky. Its really nice to meet you guys." He looked up to see the men
settle in chairs near the cold fireplace, just about as far away as they
could get from the three boys. "I wish there was some place we could go to
get away from them," he nodded to the men, "I shouldn't have come out here
with John. If the fucking press finds out where I am, and they will, this
place will be crawling with them." He sighed, "I really fucked up this
time. That cop was so good looking too, damn him, he looked like he was
our age. I'm usually so careful, but he was so tempting, and it's been
such a long time."

Doug looked at the men, deep in conversation. "Come on with us, we'll
introduce you to Paul and Marc." He giggled, "Just don't put the make on
them. According to Paul, his dad's afraid you'll teach them new stuff we
haven't tried." He led the way to the family room and out a door there.

Buck closed the door silently before he let out a war hoop. "Put the make
on them? When they see you, they'll jump your beautiful movie star
bones. Well, Paul won't, but Marc will in a heartbeat. If you don't want
to play, you better be able to fight him off for real, none of that phony
movie shit."

Dylan laughed, "I guess I'm a goner then. How much time should I give him
to get off me?"

"Come on Bucky, give Marc a break. At first he'll attack you with his
camera. You're lucky you're used to getting your picture taken." Doug said
and opened a bunkhouse door, before he sang, "Surprise! You've got

Dylan dutifully shook hands with the three guys as Doug introduced him, but
his eyes stayed on Marc. Paul and Morgan backed away, and stood close
enough so they touched each other somewhere each time one of them
moved. Doug rested his arm over Buck's shoulders without thinking about it,
and Buck fitted himself comfortably to Doug's side and leaned against
him. Then they watched the sparks fly between Dylan and Marc. Dylan was the
only one wearing jeans and a pull over shirt. He removed his shirt and
dropped it on the floor without breaking eye contact with Marc longer than
a second.

Buck looked up at Doug and whispered, "The fight has been canceled I
guess." Then louder, "Well now we've got a real problem." Everyone looked
at him in question. He giggled, "Three happy couples ready willing and
able, and two fathers a hundred yards away." He snapped his fingers and
looked very pleased with himself. "But I have a solution. Why don't we
just disappear? As in have Willie drive us over to my place?" He looked at
Paul. "In the morning your father will have cooled off or adjusted,
whatever, and Dylan can stay." He received five grins in approval. "Or, if
anyone can't stay here, they can just move in with me. I've got three
fucking bedrooms including mine," he glanced at Doug, "just waiting to be

"Buckminster my man," Paul grinned, "I'm really beginning to enjoy having
you around even though you raped me. Come on let's go."

Dylan's eyes flicked down at Buck, then up at Paul. "HE RAPED YOU?" He
asked in total surprise and disbelief.

Buck answered proudly wearing a phony cherubic expression. "I sure did,
and I have plans for you too. As you can see I'm very cute and
irresistible, Even to dirty old men like you two. How old are you anyway?"

"Nineteen, or I will be next month," Dylan frowned at Buck, "and that's not
old," he added.

Paul motioned them all to silence when they got close to the house. They
detoured to peek in the living room windows. Buck and John were sipping
drinks and talking calmly sitting in the same chairs. "So far so good.
Let's get out of here."

Willie jumped in surprise when he saw them running toward him. Buck
assumed leadership of the group. "Hey Willie, this is Dylan. Dylan, this is
Willie, also known as Wee Willie, because he isn't. Can you give us a quick
lift home? Dad's having a drink. You can come back for him." Buck didn't
wait for an answer, because it wasn't exactly a question. He opened the
car door and motioned the others to climb in then he followed and slammed
the door.

The gates opened when the car crossed the pressure switch then began
closing again as soon as the rear bumper passed the gateposts. Three
hundred yards down the road; Willie saw a car parked. The interior lights
were on and the driver was holding up a map. He lowered the partition.
"Hey Buck, this dude looks lost, should we help him?"

Everyone stretched his neck to look. Dylan answered. "Fuck no. Keep
going. That guy is a reporter. Shit, that didn't take long."

"How do you know he's a reporter?" Buck asked.

"Because it's a rental car and he's lost. See the Budget bumper sticker?
I'll bet he follows us straight to your house. Shit!" Dylan moaned.

Buck giggled. "Not to worry, I hope he does. We'll see how good our
security system is won't we Willie?"

Willie was already talking to someone on a cell phone and nodded into the
rear view mirror, while watching the rental car's lights move back on to
the road. "You were right, here he comes," he said and pushed the
accelerator to the floor. The big car quickly gained speed. Willie slowed
just enough to turn into the Trenton driveway. The already open gates
started to close again before half the length of the car was through
them. The boys watched the headlights of the rental car shining impotently
through the gate bars.

"I'll bite," Marc asked, "what happens now?"

"Now he'll be told he's trespassing if he's not on the public right-of-way
and asked to leave. If he doesn't, he'll get arrested and his car will be
towed," Willie explained. "The local cops have already been called," he

Buck giggled. "My dad contributes to the Chief's retirement fund,
informally of course, and everyone else on the force gets a special
Christmas present. Believe me, we get more service from the cops than we
need, up until now."

The boys piled out of the limo in front of Trenton Hall, then stopped dead
in their tracks, even Buck, because it was the first time he'd seen the
house at night with all the exterior lights turned on. The whole building
glittered, including the surrounding landscape still under construction.

Dylan whistled in appreciation. "What is this place? It looks like a movie
set. Is this your home? Who are you anyway?" He asked Buck. "I make about
thirty million a picture now, and I couldn't afford this joint."

Buck shrugged and looked around. "To tell you the truth, I'm impressed
too. I'll bet Mom made a millionaire out of the electrician getting what
she wanted out here."

"Haven't you ever heard of Buckminster Trenton the Third?" Marc asked, then
stabbed Buck in the chest with a finger. "This little prick is the

Buck sighed and shook his head. "Didn't I tell you that I'm not a little
prick? I'm a big pick," he announced proudly grabbing himself through the
material of his shorts, then grabbed Doug, who winced and bent over, "and
so is my very, very good friend Douggie," he mimicked his father perfectly.
"You guys are the little pricks in this club." Buck paused and pointedly
stared at Dylan's crotch then batted his eyes at him coyly. "Of course we
don't know about you yet, but from the second you saw Marc, things are
looking pretty good down there so far."

Doug pried Buck's fingers loose. "Goddamnit Buck you don't have to break
it. Come on let's go see some movie star skin. We sure don't see much in
your damn movies. Why is that anyway? Not even an ass cheek in your love

Dylan frowned. "You won't either, until I can get a part playing my own
age. I think I'm going to have trouble making the transition from kid to
adult as long as I look like a kid. Kids only make out on screen, and maybe
cop a feel, but anything more serious is just implied."

Buck punched the combination to unlock his apartment door. "When we saw you
on the news tonight, Doug said you're so pretty, you should have been a

"Buck! Jesus H. Christ, you have one fucking big mouth." Doug said and
turned red. He looked at Dylan, "Sorry about that."

Dylan smiled and shrugged. "No problem, I've heard that before. I know
what I look like. Maybe that's why I like what I like in bed," he looked
at Marc shyly, then added, "And as you'll see anyway, sooner or later, I'm
not so well hung, so we may as well get show and tell out of the way. What
you see is what you get." He unsnapped his jeans. The zipper opened when he
pushed them down his legs. He pried his gym shoes off while he watched the
other boys rush to catch up by dropping their shorts.

Marc hesitantly reached down to hold Dylan's four- inch erection, then
kissed him lightly. "It works okay doesn't it?" He asked looking Dylan in
the eyes.

"Yeah, it works. It works too well, that's how I got in trouble. You
better let go now." Dylan whispered.

"Yeah let him go for now." Buck ordered. "We need to talk about this before
we get too carried away. You said the cop you groped looked real young.
Did he arrest you?"

Dylan shook his head and sat down on the sofa with Marc. "Nope. There were
three or four others jammed in a shitter stall behind us. They just came
boiling out of there and they did it. The one at the urinal just kind of
disappeared," Dylan thought for a second. "Not disappeared, I saw him leave
the restroom. He went back into the store I guess. I remember seeing his
back in the doorway."

"What store?" Paul asked.

"Lord and Taylor. I was just out wandering around, killing time. It's nice
to be alone once in a while, you know, not be recognized. I was wearing a
cap and sunglasses and I'm just careful to never really look at anyone,
like eye contact, if I do that's when I see that jerky smile then the
questions, like, Aren't you Dylan Brockway? Or, I know you from somewhere,
that's when I get the hell out of Dodge."

Buck grinned, "Maybe the guy you groped wasn't a cop. Maybe he was just a
kid the cops were using as bait. We should find out." He pulled away from
Doug where they were sitting on the floor and pushed Dylan and Marc over
from where they sat behind his keyboard. The picture on the plasma screen
was still Buck's empty boat bed in his bedroom.

"What is that anyway?" Dylan asked.

Doug giggled, "Don't ask. That's Buck's bed, in there, his bedroom. We were
just playing around," he frowned at Paul, "until we were interrupted by the
pussy neighbor."

Buck's fingers flew between the keyboard and mouse until a list of names
appeared on the screen. Dylan rested his chin on Buck's shoulder watching
his hands and the screen. "What are you doing?"

Buck smiled and explained. "I just accessed my dad's address book. I need a
home phone number." He reached for a portable phone stuffed in the sofa. He
giggled while he dialed and looked at the others. "Stay silent, or this
won't work."

Buck cleared his throat and stood up. "Hello George, this is Buck Trenton.
Sorry to bother you on a holiday, a friend of my son's got in some trouble
late this afternoon and we need to find out what we can to get him out of
it." Buck carefully held his voice low, imitating his father. "The kid's
name is Dylan Brockway." He listened for a moment before he continued,
"Yeah. That's the one. You saw it on the news? Good, then I don't have to
fill you in. I'd like a copy of the arrest report. The kid says the decoy
was too young to be a cop. I want to find out about that. Everything, a
complete bio eventually, but name address, phone number, and of course his
age for now."

Buck listened, "No, the kid said he wasn't one of the arresting
officers. Yes, that is strange. No George do not attach it to an email, you
know I don't want shit like that on my computer, fax it as usual." Buck
looked at his watch. "No, not tomorrow, tonight would be better. In say
half an hour? I've got one scared little movie star on my hands out here
and I want to reassure him that I'm doing what I can. Thanks George, I
won't forget this special effort. Good night George." Buck disconnected,
then tossed the phone to Dylan and giggled at five bug eyed open mouth

"Can that guy get that information?" Dylan asked.

"Of course. George is the CEO of one of the largest private detective
agencies on the East Coast."

"But so fast? You were making like you were your father we know, but can he
order him around like that?" Marc asked shaking his head.

Buck broke into a belly laugh as he grabbed Dylan's hand and yanked him to
his feet. "He can if he owns the agency. Come on, we'll go wait for the fax
in Dad's study, also known as the war room, depending on what he's doing."
He saw Paul and Morgan kiss, then start to stretch out on the floor. "Oh
no you don't, you two, no one gets laid if I can't get laid. Lets all go
wait for the fax. It won't take long, I think George can get into the NYPD
computer somehow, he has a long reach and he's used to getting sudden
emergency requests."

Twenty minutes later the fax machine chimed, after Buck gave up trying to
keep Paul and Morgan, or Dylan and Marc separated, and even Doug from
clamping a lip lock on his cock. The machine started belching printed
sheets of paper. Buck ended his head job by just pulling away from Doug
suddenly, leaving him on his knees sucking air. Buck grabbed each sheet
before it fell into the tray then scanned it before he shook his head, no.

Doug rested his chin on Buck's shoulder and tried to read the papers with
him, but was barely able to focus on the first words before Buck was
finished. Doug gave up and rocked his head to the side to watch Buck's
eyes. "How the fuck are you reading them so fast?" He demanded.

Buck giggled and read another sheet before he turned his head and kissed
Doug's nose. "That's a secret," he whispered, "I have a photographic
memory, but please don't tell the guys, they'll think I'm weird."

"We know you are already, there's no thinking required," Paul chuckled and
rested his chin on the top of Buck's head.

"Fuck you, you big lug," Buck retorted, "I didn't know you were standing so
close." He blinked suddenly and grinned, holding the newest sheet up and
pawing the others until he found one he was looking for. "This is the
arrest report, it lists a Peter Anderson as the victim."

"Victim my ass!" Dylan shouted and pushed Marc off his body. He jumped up
and snatched the copy from Buck's hand. "Sonofabitch, I'm fucked, he was
only sixteen. I'll be found guilty of molesting a fucking minor. Oh no,
no, no." He moaned, almost in tears. "I was so certain he was a young
looking cop. The one that cuffed me even congratulated the prick for such
a righteous bust, just before he disappeared."

Buck poked Dylan in the chest to get his attention and waved a second piece
of paper in front of his eyes. He was grinning from ear to ear. "Wait, look
at this before you kill yourself, will you? It's a file, a security check
and a picture of this Peter dick head. He isn't a cop because he's too
young obviously, but it says here that he is an officer cadet in something
called the Police Auxiliary, whatever the fuck that is."

"Maybe the police Boy Scouts or something?" Paul suggested, "I never heard
of anything like that, but New York is a big city."

"It doesn't matter if he was a Girl Scout, I'm still fucked."

Buck whistled shrilly and everyone looked at him. "Are you guys dense, or
what?" He asked. "Don't you see, they used him as a decoy, knowing that he
was a minor, then listed him as a victim because he is a minor. What they
did has to be illegal because it's too dangerous. I think the vice squad
just fucked themselves."

Tentative smiles turned into grins, then that changed to cheering as the
importance of what Buck told them sunk in. Dylan got little Buck in a bear
hug, lifted him off the floor and danced around the room with him. "I owe
you one for this Buck. You name it, anything at all, and it's yours," he
told Buck, then kissed him deeply before Buck could answer.

Buck pulled back from Dylan. "Can I watch you making a movie? I'd like

"We need to give all this to my father," Marc told the room as he sifted
through the fax sheets. "Hey, you know this guy is really good looking, I
think. It's hard to tell from this shitty black and white fax."

Dylan broke off his thank you kiss. "If he wasn't, I wouldn't be in this
fucking mess. Even desperate, I still have my standards," he said with a

"If he was like us and went to Oaks, he'd be the ideal fourth roommate for
us this fall."

"Oaks?" Dylan asked.

"Our school, Doug and I go there now and Marc is transferring so we can all
room together." Buck explained.

"Oh, neat. Well one out of two isn't bad. I think he's gay. He was nervous
and scared standing there at that urinal, but he was still half hard, and
his look sure said he wanted to play, even though he knew half the vice
squad was jammed into the shitter behind us. Would a straight guy be
excited like that?" Dylan wondered.

Buck and Doug looked at the picture. "What do you think Doug?" Buck asked.

"Yeah he'd do, but it says here that he goes to regular high school. Too
bad, now that you mention it, we might have trouble finding a fourth guy. I
can't think of anyone else like us, except for a couple of obvious swishy
types. If we got one of those," Doug shuddered, "I don't think I could put
up with all that prancing and squealing shit they do."

Buck agreed, then added, "Plus it would be instant guilt by association."
He smiled and snapped his fingers. "Tuesday, let's go look this guy up. We
could just watch his house, then when he comes out we'll follow him and
bump into him accidentally on purpose."

"So what? He still doesn't go to the Oaks, and probably never heard of the
place and couldn't afford it anyway." Marc frowned at Buck. "Tell me you
aren't planning to hook up with him just because he's a good looking stud
are you? If any of us get into the habit of one nighters, we put the rest
of the group at risk. I for one don't like rubbers, and, well there's other
stuff I wouldn't do anymore either." Marc looked disappointed. "But if you
want to, go ahead. We could still be friends and roommates I guess."

"Why you big dumbass," Buck giggled, "I wasn't thinking of that and I
wouldn't just fuck him and forget him, nope, no one nighters for me ever. I
was thinking you and I might make friends with him and see if he really is
gay, like Dylan thinks. If he is, we could invite him here and then bang
him after we find out if he'd be interested in a scholarship to Oaks, all
expenses paid."

"Yeah, right. Get real Buck, you know there aren't any scholarships."

"There could be one, if he wants it. Dad could set up a foundation and I
could fund it, no sweat, as long as I'm on the selection committee and you
if you want to. It would be easy and we'd be honest about it at least to
this guy Peter. It would just be secret from the rest of the world,
including the school." Buck thought for a second, the added, "Fuck the
school, they wouldn't care as long as they got the tuition. There's always
a few empty rooms so they aren't full."

"You'd lay out that much just so we have the right roommate?" Marc asked

"Sure, I know I have to get philanthropic some time, I may as well start

"Remember I can't go, I have to work, but I think it's a good idea. Where
else are we going to find the right guy?" Doug shrugged. "If he agrees I
hope he's smart, sex if fine but we don't need a dumb rock as a roommate.
I'd almost rather have a smart swish, except for the advertising."

"Yeah, right, I forgot about that. George might have his transcript by
Tuesday. Marc and I can go and Morgan can drive us." Buck looked hopeful at
Morgan, "Will you?"

"Sure if it's okay with your father."

Dylan asked if he could go with them so he could get his things from the
hotel and check out. "That way I'll be out of sight at first, and then if
he's with you when you pick me up, if he wants to, we might be able to
finish what I started since he's not really a cop," he grinned suddenly,
"and he sure was hot."

"Who's hot?" Bucky asked from the doorway. John Wilcott stood behind him
looking over the top of his head, frowning and bug eyed. Bucky was grinning
at his son. "How long do you think it will take you to think up a plausible
explanation for being in my study?" He asked Buck, who still held a handful
of fax sheets.

"Would you believe that I was just giving the guys a grand tour of this
dump?" Buck countered wearing a grin that matched his father's, as the rest
of the guys scurried to get behind him, seeking his protection, oblivious
to the fact that they were naked.

Doug pushed Buck forward with a loud urgent whisper, "Can the bullshit,
show him the fax."

"Oh, yeah," Buck giggled, and handed his father the papers. "Take a look at
this before you get hyper. No one touched anything except the fax machine,"
he added, more to reassure the guys than his father.

Buck glanced at each sheet then passed it to John. "The guy I honked was a
minor. He's a police cadet, I guess that means a wannabe, and the cops put
him up to it," Dylan capsulated the information. "That's illegal isn't it?"
He asked John hopefully.

"It certainly is, and it appears they're covering their asses by putting
the kid down as a victim," John answered with a growing smile. He frowned
and looked up from the last sheet. "Where the hell did you get this
information? Some of this, like the minor's identity is confidential. I can
get it, because he'd have to testify, but not as quickly as you did."

Bucky held up his hand quickly to stop Buck from answering the
question. "Wait, I think I need to be one of your clients before my son
answers. How much to retain you for a couple of minutes?" He asked, looking
up at John, wearing a huge grin.

John smiled back and nodded. "I think a dollar would cover it," he
answered, laughed, then explained to the boys about attorney-client

Bucky searched his pockets futilely before he looked at Buck, "Could I
borrow a dollar?"

"Jeeze Dad, you never have any money even wearing clothes." Buck giggled
and slapped his bare thighs and ass.

"How about if I bill you? I think a handshake will do for now." John
laughed and offered his hand.

Bucky took the proffered hand then told Buck to answer John's
question. Buck cleared his throat, put an imaginary phone to his head and
started repeating the conversation he'd had with George, again imitating
his father perfectly. When John still looked puzzled Bucky finished the
explanation then frowned at Buck.

"Damnit Buck I've told you to stop doing that, at least without letting me
know before you do it," he scolded.

Buck shrugged. "Sorry Dad, but you weren't available for a consultation,"
he grinned, "and besides, you always told me to cut through the bullshit to
get a project done, so that's what I did. It was good advise, look at the
results already. All George has left to do is send us a biography on this
guy Peter, particularly his transcripts."

"His transcripts? Why do you want to see those? They have no bearing on
this mess."

Buck put on his most angelic face, marred by a tiny devilish smile. "We
like his looks, and if he's smart enough, we want him as our fourth
roommate at school." Before Bucky could ask any questions, Buck rushed on,
"Oh, that's something you can do for us. There are a few rooms in the old
dorm, big ones, with bathrooms that sleep four guys. The school usually
puts newbes in them, but we need you to use your juice on the board to get
us one of them so we can room together."

Bucky's eyebrow shot up. "You and Doug are two, who's the third guy? You
never mentioned, ah, liking anyone but Doug at school."

Buck tossed his thumb over his shoulder. "Marc, who else? He's going to
transfer to Oaks and..."

John exploded, as Marc ducked behind Paul trying to hide. "HE IS? You are?
When exactly were you planning to tell me about this?"

Marc stood up slowly until his eyes looked cautiously over one of his
brother's shoulders. "The idea popped up kind of suddenly Dad, between Doug
and I, then we met up with Buck, so we needed a bigger room, and you
weren't available for consultation either. I was going to ask you about
that as soon as you got home, I really was. Can I? Please?" He begged, then
suddenly switched topics. "Oh, something else, Doug's a swimmer and he's
going to try out for the Olympics too, so I kind of need an underwater
housing for a camera. I'm missing some great shots of him from the side and
below. A good one isn't really expensive," he added lamely.

"As compared to what?" John asked dubiously.

Paul giggled suddenly and moved to the side, leaving Marc exposed. "As
compared to his darkroom probably."

Marc frowned at his brother. "Thanks for the help asshole."

"You're welcome, anytime." Paul laughed at his father's expression. "After
you get him this cheap underwater thing, he'll discover he needs a new
camera to fit in it. Of course that won't be expensive either as compared
to his Hasselblatt."

Marc grinned sheepishly. "You know now you really aren't being helpful." He
lowered his voice to a whisper through the side of his mouth, "Shut the
fuck up!"

"I'll think about your equipment problem. Let's talk about you
transferring." John's gaze swept the boys quickly, including his two
sons. He could easily picture them individually as models for a six-month
teenage nude `hunk' calendar. He was resigned to the expense of buying Marc
the new equipment, but he was going to make him pay for it with the
truth. "Why do you want to transfer?"

Marc sighed and looked at his new friends and his brother. "Well Paul is
off to college, and I sort of need a new roommate, and well, I don't know
of any guy in my class or the rest of the school for that matter, that I'd
be good enough friends with to room with, well, you know." He let his voice
trail off to silence.

"No, I don't know. Explain further please."

Marc face turned scarlet. "What I meant was, kind of in bed, you know, sex,
good enough friends with to have sex with." Marc took a deep breath,
"Because we're all, all of us are gay, that's why. There I said it. Is
that what you wanted to hear?" He asked with a trace of defiance.

Paul spoke up, "What the dildo is trying to say is that since I'm not going
to be around during the school year, he was probably going to go out
looking for action on his own, any action, and that isn't safe. We talked
about this and we kind of agreed that is all of us except Dylan, that we
should sort of keep it among ourselves. You know, a small tight knit group,
a little club like. Like Morgan and I, we're going to room together this
year." Paul put a hand on Morgan's shoulder. "This is Morgan by the way,
he's working for Bucky this summer. He's pre-law too, so we can study
together and we're compatible in other ways," Paul hesitated, "but I guess
you saw that."

"What the clumsy oaf is trying to say," Marc said to get in some name
calling and re-join in the explanation, "is that all of us have normal
teenage urges and we just can't turn them off when we feel like it now that
we've started, well, what we've started."

John looked at Paul, "So you're both gay, what about you, your career as a
gymnast, if this gets out?"

"Come on Dad, wake up and smell the roses. Do you want me to list all the
guys who have won metals, are Olympic champions, the best in the world, who
are gay? Every meet I go to, I get special looks and smiles all the time
from guys, and just about every one of those guys is tough
competition. Being great at a sport has nothing to do with being gay. It
may be that as a group we're better because we have to be. I see it as a

Doug nodded and spoke up. "Excuse me Sir, but I swim and there are just as
many gays on every swim team, and I think sometimes half the mob in the
stands are gay too. They come to dream or drool because you can't hide much
in a speed suit. Nothing happens though ever. At a meet, I concentrate on
winning, nothing more, and nothing less."

Dylan spoke up. "Hey, I know you guys don't know me at all and I didn't
know about your little exclusive club until just now. I'd like to join if
you'll let me. I'm scared shitless of one night stands, but I'm too well
known so that's how I get my jollies, but only when I get so tired of using
my fist that I want to kill myself. For someone like me, the only other
alternative is to hire someone, and I'll just never be that desperate. He
paused to look at his feet for a moment, then added in a soft
voice. "There's another reason too. You guys treat me like a regular guy,
like a friend. I realized tonight that I've been working so long, I can't
remember when I started, and I actually don't have a private life. I don't
even have friends from school because I never went, I always had tutors on
the set."

Buck separated from Doug's minuscule touches and went to Dylan where he was
standing slightly apart from the rest of them and took his hand. First, he
tugged him gently, and when Dylan tried to shake him off, Buck grabbed his
arm with both hands and pulled him off balance, toward the group. Dylan
bumped into Marc and Paul. Marc stopped him from backing away by putting
an arm around his waist until his hand stroked the front of Dylan's hip.
"There. Now you're one of us officially," Buck giggled, "you dope, you
always were." His busy mind switched gears. "Hey, when do you start your
next picture? Can you stay here and hang with us for a while."

"We start rehearsals on Thursday. That's why I'm in New York. All the
location stuff will be around town over the summer, then we'll move to LA
to finish up on the interior sets. Why, do you really want to come in and
watch? You can, I'll even get you chairs with your names on them, but its
kind of boring." Dylan snapped his fingers. "If you want, I can get you all
bit parts, it's another stupid high school romance kid flick." Dylan was
nodding, willing them all to agree.

Buck was delighted with the thought of watching the movie being filmed so
soon after asking but that wasn't the reason he asked. "New York? That's
even better, why don't you stay here for as long as you're in New York? If
you get another hotel, you'll still have to sneak around. Out here you can
do as you please and hang out with us for the whole summer."

"Boy I'd like to, but the drive would be a killer. We work long hours,
sometimes nights, and on locations like a city, every weekend because of
the crowds. And don't forget the fucking press, they'll find out I'm
staying here. I'm used to them, but you'll have to use a bulldozer to get
in and out of your gate."

Bucky laughed. "No we won't, or you either. I have a helicopter. When I
drove into the city," he glanced at Doug and grinned, "before Henderson
started tearing up the interstate, it took a about an hour, but it was a
good time to get a lot of work done. Suddenly it took all morning, so now I
fly and land on top of my building and it only takes fifteen minutes. It
takes a lot longer to get anywhere after you land. You're more than welcome
to stay here if you want. You can think of this as home whenever you're in
the area." Bucky looked as hopeful as the boys did.

"Holy shit Mr. Trenton, you really mean it? I'll lease a chopper though,
I'll make the production company pay for it." Dylan giggled, then frowned,
"Speaking of them John, how long do you think it will take to get all this
cleared up? Right now I'm not sure I have a picture to start. Producers
aren't fond of this kind of publicity."

"The first thing Tuesday morning, I'll be in touch with the prosecutor's
office. When they see that this kid was a plant, not a victim I think
they'll drop the charges just before they start investigating the vice
squad in that precinct. I'll figure out a nice plausible story and let you
and your publicist know what it is so everyone says the same thing."

"Can Morgan drive us in on Tuesday Dad?" Buck wanted to know.

"Nope, sorry he isn't really trained to protect you, but he can fly in with
you. I'll send Willie and Joe along and they can get a limo from the pool
to drive you wherever you want to go." Bucky looked at Dylan. "If you have
any problems with anyone, they'll be happy to run interference for you,
because they are trained." He giggled as he held his fists together in
front of them then made a snapping stick sound as he twisted them apart.

"Well," Buck said and drew out a yawn for thirty seconds. "I'm really ready
for bed." He grinned at John. "Can Paul and Marc stay over here tonight?
It's way past their bedtime. They'll be falling asleep in the car, then
you'll have to carry them in the house." Buck looked both innocent and
authentically hopeful.

John smiled and nodded. "I guess so, but only because that will save my
back. They're getting too big to carry."

Dylan giggled at Buck's performance. "Hey that was good. Shit you'll get an
Academy Award before I do."

Buck swung around as if he saw his friends for the first time. "And just
are you guys doing in my father's study?" He asked angrily. "I've told you
and told you, this room is off limits! Get out, all of you. Go straight to
your rooms and stay there until breakfast!" He grinned suddenly. "How was
that?" he asked Dylan.

Dylan grinned and moaned, "Oh no, I think I've created a monster."

Paul and Doug grabbed Buck, picked him up and carried him into the
hallway. "I'll be sure to lock the door this time Bucky. He won't escape
again." Doug said as they passed the men. "Better yet, which way to the
meat grinder?" He asked.

"They're all jealous because I'm a star!" Buck screamed before he started
laughing to hard.




                                                              back     main    next

                                                                                             Email Jamie