What's Going On Here?

Seven months is a long time to go between anything.

Let me bring you up to date. Small Town Boys is on hiatus, in case you haven't guessed. It's not writer's block as much as it is other work -- including real life and my job -- have stepped in to put the story on hold. I do plan to get back to it, but for the time being, things are in stasis with Donny, Eric, Mike, Greg, and the rest of the STB gang. Meanwhile, another work in the form of a short novel has taken over my time. It began several years ago as a short story and, as is the case with a lot of my work, took off on its own. But it is drawing to a close and I hope to be able to get it done before the end of the month. It even has a tentative title -- Namesake.

I also plan to get back to writing here on a more regular basis and writing about writing. That's what this blog was intended to be about in the first place.

By the way, I'm still shilling Can't Live Without You, looking for a sophomore production or even a staged reading. I have hopes to get it done here in Florida -- after all, it does take place here -- but I will send it anywhere for consideration. If you or someone you know is interested, drop me a line.

Okay, enough chit-chat; back to work and back to writing.

Small Town Boys - Chapter 53

Chapter Guide

These Are the Voyages…

“Are you coming in to the office tomorrow morning, or are you going straight to the airport?” Eric wanted to know.

It was a three weeks later and they were finalizing their plans for their trip to Fairview, Colorado. They, Rudy, and Vinnie and Jordan, two of the code talkers, were going to spend a week at the school district familiarizing themselves with the current setup and meeting the people who were going to determine what was needed to get the program running in order to begin to write the company’s response to the formal Request for Proposal. He had not heard from Danny, and he had almost forgotten about Tyler until he spotted a small item in the Times, picked up from the wire services from the Traverse City Record-Eagle, about the Herlingers asking for any information about their missing son.

“Well, since the flight’s at noon, there’s not a lot of point to coming in here just to turn around and go back,” Donny replied. “Matter of fact, why don’t you come over to my place and pick me up in the morning and we’ll go from there?”

“Sounds like a plan.”

Trish and Wanda were going to look after the house. Donny had had a meeting with them about Small Town Boys the week after New Year’s and looked at the resumes of some of the screenwriters that Aaron and Jack were “suggesting” he consider. Donny had the distinct impression that he had already been chosen and that this was just a formality. All of them had impressive credits, including one that had been nominated for an Emmy two years before. Samples of their writing were included, and Donny flipped through them. “So, which one does Gina want me to choose?” he said to Trish.

She laughed. “You learn quick.” She handed him the portfolio of Evan Gilmour. He was in his early thirties but already had been the head writer on several prime time series and had worked with Aaron on two projects. “And,” Trish added, “he’s also got a couple of off-Broadway credits. Plus he knows the subject matter.”

“He’s gay, then.”

“Um hm. Best part is he lives in Boulder when he’s not here or in New York, and so you can meet him when you’re in Colorado.”

“Like I’ll have time,” said Donny. “We’re going up there to work, not ‘take a meeting.’”

“Well, at least call him and maybe have dinner.”

“No promises,” said Donny curtly. He was already beginning to think that Small Town Boys was going to be shoved to the back burner as far as he was concerned. Trish and Jack were still working on rounding up investors, and that meant they were pushing back the start date for the pilot to May or June. Meanwhile, Starship Enterprise was beginning to grow almost exponentially. They had already decided to hire an outside consulting firm to handle the training of the school staff and merger with the old system, and the initial proposal had grown from a collection of file folders on Donny’s desk to a row of thick binders labeled Purchasing, Accounts Payable, Accounts Receivable, Grants, Budget, HR, Grades, and the thickest one that Eric had titled Everything Else. The binders spilled off the table and on to the floor, and as they grew, file folders and boxes were added.

“We’re gonna need a U-Haul to get all this stuff up to there,” Eric said as he looked over the pile of paper.

Donny held up a box of floppy discs. “We’ll only need these and a laptop for the RFP.”

“Yeah, okay.” Eric said. “You might as well plan on moving there if we get the job. Not permanently, but…”

“Fine with me,” replied Donny.

Eric looked at him. “Really? Had it with L.A.?”

Donny twiddled the pen he was writing notes with. “Nah, just…”

“Getting burned out,” said Eric, finishing his thought. “Yeah, I know. But hey, we’ll have a good time in Colorado. Do some skiing, maybe, see if there are any hot guys in Boulder…” He grinned mischievously. “Some of those mountain-climber and jogger types can be pretty hot.”

“Thought we were going there to work,” snorted Donny.

“Uh huh.”

Marc came in and dropped a large binder on Donny’s desk. “Here’s the projections you were asking for,” he said, and then caught Eric’s grin. “What’s up?”

“Oh, just teasing Donny about getting a little Rocky Mountain high, that’s all.”

Marc laughed. “Yeah a little motel sex is always fun,” he said. “I should know.” His demeanor had improved markedly since Christmas, and everyone in the office had noticed it. Eric had asked Donny if he knew what was making Marc so happy, not that he had any objections. Donny had shrugged and said it was probably because they’d had a thirty-seven percent increase in sales the last two quarters and Business Week had featured them in a story about business integration software. Eric had agreed, then added, “If you ask me, he also looks like he’s in love. You guys back together?”

“Nope,” Donny had replied.

“Well, whoever it is, maybe we should give him a bonus.”

It was snowing lightly the next afternoon when they arrived in Denver. It was a tight fit getting the five of them and their luggage into the Mitsubishi Galant, but with a little creative cramming, they got the trunk closed. The snow followed them all the way to the Marriott in Fairview. They checked in, and since the hotel was almost full because of a cross-country race, Rudy, Vinnie, and Jordan were in one room, and Donny and Eric were in another. Eric called Gordie Harwell. They were to meet him for dinner that evening at the Elkhorn, a well-known steak place in the middle of town.

Fairview was nestled in a valley in the Front Range of the Rockies, nearly seven thousand feet above sea level. The thin air was noticeable, and Vinnie, the code talker from New Jersey, got a nosebleed. He and his cohort, Jordan, decided to stay in the motel, order in a pizza, and put the finishing touches on the preliminary presentation.

Gordie was a tall, balding man with owl-like eyes and a bushy mustache, the color of which matched his sandy hair. Donny found it hard to believe that he and Eric had been in the same classes in college until Eric explained that Gordie had been in the Army for ten years before coming back to finish his degree and go on to get his Masters in education. Rudy nodded silently as he was introduced, and when they ordered drinks, he ordered iced tea. The waitress wasn’t sure if they had any, it being the end of January, but she said she’d look.

After some small talk, mainly catching up between Eric and Gordie, the conversation turned to the project, and Rudy, who had been silent up to then, started asking Gordie a number of intricate technical questions that left even Eric slightly breathless. But Gordie was able to answer most of them, and Rudy took extensive notes in his pocket notebook. When it came time to order dinner, Gordie recommended the New York cut, and Donny and Eric concurred. Rudy ordered a side salad and a baked potato.

The food was good and Donny had a glass and a half of wine. He was feeling pleasantly light-headed at the end of the meal, and walking out into the cold night air was a nice sharp contrast to the stuffy and smoky air of the restaurant. He took several deep gulps of air before lighting a cigarette. The smoke made him feel even more dizzy.

Eric noticed him swaying a little. “You okay?” he said with a grin.

“Yeah,” Donny muttered. “The altitude, I guess.” He took another drag on the cigarette then tossed it in the gutter.

Eric was a little glassy-eyed, too. He handed the car keys to Rudy. “Here you go; you’re driving.”

Donny felt a little better in the car, and by the time they got back to the hotel, he didn’t object when Eric stopped in front of the lounge and suggested a nightcap.

The bar was quiet except for some tinny piped-in Billy Joel instrumentals. They each ordered Scotch on the rocks and sat at a table under a large print of Longs Peak.

“So,” Eric said, “this is kind of cool.”

“What?”

“Here we are, nailing down a contract to basically re-write an entire government entity’s software system. This could be huge.”

“All we’re doing is plugging a whole lot of patches and modules into an already existing system using our software,” Donny said. “It’s not like we’re reinventing the wheel or coming up with a whole new language like those guys at FoxPro.”

“Yeah, but they don’t know that. ‘Sides, once we’ve got this going, a lot of other places will want to try it.” He smiled at the waitress who brought their drinks. “Thanks.”

“Yeah,” replied Donny, “unless we fuck it up.”

“We won’t. You won’t.” He raised his glass. “Here’s to Starship Enterprise…or whatever we call it.”

They clinked glasses and sipped their drinks. Eric smiled at Donny, and Donny felt warmth spreading through him, a pleasant tickle of horniness, made all the more immediate by Eric’s proximity and the faint scent of wool coming off his sweater. Donny gazed at Eric, the dim light from the bar making him look even more attractive, and he had to look away, over to where the bartender, a globular man in his mid-fifties was wiping down the bar and humming along flatly with the music, to try to take his mind off the tightness growing in his crotch.

Eric said something and Donny blinked. “Another?” Eric repeated.

Donny looked down at the empty glass, the ice cubes making little rainbows, and he shook his head. “Nah,” he muttered.

“’Kay, we’d better hit the rack; ‘morrow’s gonna be a long day.” He put a ten on the table, waved off Donny’s offer of cash, and they made their way to the elevator.

The room was dark, and Donny fumbled around until he found the light next to his bed. They wordlessly got undressed, each taking off their sweaters, shirts, and pants at the same time until they were both standing at the end of their beds facing each other in nothing but their underwear.

Eric caught Donny’s eyes and held them, a small smile making his lips part just a little, and Donny felt a roaring surge of passion, nearly making him groan, the thud of blood pounding in his ears and his cock. Eric leaned in a little and put out his hand for a moment, and said, “Man, I gotta take a gnarly piss.”

Donny nodded silently, and Eric brushed by him and went into the bathroom, closing the door. Donny got into bed and was asleep before Eric came back to his own bed.

*

They had an early breakfast and arrived at the school before 8:30, joining in the wave of students who were making their way to their lockers and first classes. Donny had a moment of flashback as the universal scent of high school – a combination of floor wax, pencil shavings, bathroom disinfectant, and the scent of teenagers: hairspray, gym sweat, bubble gum, and sneakers.

There was a large conference room behind the principal’s office and someone had put a large white power strip on the floor next to the movie screen. Donny set up the projector and the laptop while Eric, wearing a sports coat and tie, was introduced to the members of the school administration and two of the school board members. The locals all reminded Donny of people back home; middle-aged, very Republican-looking, the clothes all very business-like with faint hints of western wear: a turquoise brooch here, piping on the shoulder seams there, and all of them looking like they spent a lot of time outdoors. Everyone was very polite as the team was introduced, and then Eric went to the end of the table and flicked on the projector. A picture of a smiling little girl, her hands plastered with red, blue and orange finger-paints framing her face filled the screen. The title at the bottom said, “Making It Work for Her.” One of the ladies let out and audible “aw…”

Eric’s pitch was gentle and off-the-cuff even though Donny knew he had written it, revised it, and rehearsed it for a week. He took the approach that everything that the school system did in the office, be it ordering supplies, reconciling the budget, running the payroll, or even printing out the labels for file folders, was geared towards the kids. “The only reason you and your teachers and everyone else comes to work every day,” he said, “is for her and all the other kids in this school district. That’s it. Anything we can do to make it easier for her to learn and grow up is our goal.”

Donny was watching both Eric and the audience around the table, and he could see some heads nodding, some more vigorously than others, and several people taking notes. Eric paused, then started to go through the slides that outlined very simply what ERP was and how it could accomplish that goal. “In the first place, it would simplify things. That means less confusion, and making the process easier makes things go smoother. You are already using Pelican for some of the work, so all we would be doing is making it available to everyone: teachers, accountants, food service, and maintenance, all under one umbrella that many on your staff already know how to use. There would be very little change in what is already being done. Or,” Eric grinned, “there wouldn’t be much moving of the food dish.” That got a laugh from everyone, and Eric went through the rest of the introductory slides, showing the connections between offices and procedures, until he came back to the little girl. “And,” he said as he put down the remote, “I’d be glad to answer any questions you might have.”

The chairman of the school board, Walt Lyle, raised his hand. He was a solidly built man in his early seventies, his full head of silver hair combed neatly into a small pompadour, his expression and bearing that of a solid Ronald Reagan Republican. He cleared his throat with a deep rumble and said, “It all looks very good, and God knows anything we can do to cut down on the red tape is a good idea. But I would like to know how much this is going to cost.”

Eric grinned slightly and shot Donny a quick look and nod. The week before as they were putting together the presentation, they had both agreed that this would be the first question asked, and so they had come up with an answer, which Eric had honed and practiced as he had the rest of the presentation. He put his hands in his pockets and said, “Mr. Lyle, it will cost as much or as little as you want it to. We’re not proposing to do sell you anything you don’t want or need.” Mr. Lyle nodded but still looked a tad skeptical, which meant he was thinking something along the lines of “But we don’t know what we need, and therefore we don’t know what you’re proposing will be what we need…or just a waste of money.” He looked as if he was on the verge of saying that, so Eric jumped in before he spoke again and answered the question before it was asked. “The reason we are here this week – at no cost to you or the school district – is to find out exactly what it is you want and what you need.” That seemed to mollify Mr. Lyle, and after a few more questions, Gordie stepped in and said he had set up meetings for Vince, Jordan, and Rudy to meet with the people who were currently using Pelican, and Donny and Eric would be meeting with the IT staff. The members of the school board, including Mr. Lyle, smiled and shook hands all around, and when they had left, Eric let out a big sigh and said, “Okay, we made it past the first hurdle: they didn’t throw us out on our ass.”

At 11:30 they broke for lunch and Gordie took them to the school cafeteria where they stood in line with the rest of the faculty and students to get trays and plates of meatloaf, carrots, and mashed potatoes. Donny grinned inwardly at the sense of déjà vu; the cafeteria at this high school was not much different than the one he’d spent his countless lunch periods in back in high school, right down to the elderly ladies in white smocks and hats that ladled out the food. The kids didn’t seem that much different, either; all shapes and sizes – tall, short, big, small, most of them wearing the current fashions of t-shirts and loose pants under hooded sweatshirts or letter jackets. He wondered what they thought this group of strangers were doing in their midst, but if they did, they gave no sign; they probably thought they were new teachers or administrators and therefore not worthy of attention. Donny caught a girl looking at him for an instant. She was wearing a letter jacket that was a few sizes too large for her with “95” on the sleeve, so it must have been her boyfriend’s jacket; the boyfriend, a tall, gangly but athletic-looking kid with longish sideburns and curly hair stood behind her in just a CU Boulder football t-shirt and grey cargo pants. She cast an appraising eye over Donny’s button-down shirt, wool sweater, and khaki pants, then looked right through him as if he wasn’t there. Ten years ago, as a freshman, Donny had gotten the same look from the senior girls.

Gordie led them to a separate part of the dining room set aside for teachers and he introduced them to some of the faculty that were already there. If he didn’t remember the names, Donny remembered the types: the matronly English teacher, the frazzled-looking science teacher, the calm but stern-looking math master, and the art teacher who looked as if she had just gotten back from Woodstock, complete with the peasant blouse, granny glasses, and breathy voice that sounded as if she was always reading poetry. They ate quietly, and Donny looked across the cafeteria, seeing more proof that no matter where or when, the dynamics of the caste system of high school society were alive and well. The tables were clearly designated by groups: the Jocks, the Nerds, the Goths, the Heathers, the Snobs, the Hipsters, the Preps, even the Drama Queens, which consisted of both boys and girls. Donny wondered what it must be like to be gay in a small mountain community surrounded by big trucks, guns, and all the other symbols of masculinity that seemed as natural and as old as the mountains and glaciers that towered over the school. It was probably not much different than what it was like when he was in school, he thought. Anyone suspected of being gay or who did not conform to the stereotype of the average teenage boy was either invisible or preyed on by the bullies like Stan Tasker who lived by the axiom that any boy who didn’t demonstrate full heterosexuality was a threat to them and their way of life. Donny knew that no one questioned his apparent straightness; his years of football and his larger than average build, plus the fact that he had sat at the Jocks table during football season and never said anything was his own acknowledgment of his obeisance to the strict and inviolate culture of being a teenager in high school.

The impression was reinforced an hour or so later when Donny took a bathroom break. The nearest men’s room was down the hall from the administration office where he and Eric were discussing network capacity with Gordie. There was no door; just a tiled entrance that turned sharply to the left and led into an open space lined with sinks on one side, a row of urinals on the other, and two stalls. He didn’t hear anything as he approached, but when he walked into the room he saw three boys by the sinks. A skinny boy with long blond hair parted in the middle, thick dark eyebrows, and a “Les Miserables” t-shirt, was backed into the corner. The other two boys, one whom Donny recognized from the cafeteria by the CU Boulder shirt, towered over him menacingly. They all looked to see who was coming in, and when Donny returned the look, the bigger boys backed away casually, and one went to run water in the sink to wash his hands. Donny went to the urinal, and by the time he had finished, the two had gone, but not before one had hissed, “Such a fag, Whitzler.”

The boy was now at the sink washing his hands, making as much lather as he could with the thin liquid green soap that spurted out of the little plastic globe mounted on the wall. Donny glanced at him for a second and suppressed a desire to say something such as, “You okay?” because he knew what the answer would be: a terse nod of the head and silence. But the boy had a look of defiance on his face, and when they traded glances, he nodded at him as if nothing was wrong. He dried his hands quickly and scurried out of the room, leaving Donny rinsing his hands under the tepid water and thinking how much the boy reminded him of kids he knew in high school, and of Tyler.

*

Donny spent the rest of the afternoon with Bev, the school treasurer, a plump middle-aged woman with tinted hair and a wheezy giggle. She was an expert at Pelican, but when Donny admitted that he had been one of the people who had designed it, she beamed appreciatively and glanced at the pictures of her family that were lined up on her wall, including an Olan Mills glamour portrait of a girl in her early twenties. Donny smiled inwardly, knowing that Bev was sizing him up as husband material for her daughter Kim. Donny didn’t tell her that he was more interested in the picture of her son Will, a well-built redhead about his age, in a cowboy hat and tight jeans leaning against a split-rail fence.

He took pages of notes as Bev went through her routines of record keeping, including accounting and purchasing, and he saw how she used other programs to complement the database. He gently made some suggestions and showed her some built-in tools that she wasn’t aware of – “Well, I’ll be darned!” she said several times – and he wrote down all of her complaints about the program. By the time they had worked through all of his questions and seen the scope of the work she did, the office was empty and it was already dusk. Donny thanked Bev, and she grinned widely. “Come back any time,” she said.

He found Eric in Gordie’s office. “Oh, good,” he said. “Gordie has an idea he’d like to run by you.” Donny sat down, and Gordie steepled his fingers.

“The committee was very impressed with your presentation, and they wanted to know how soon you could start.”

Donny looked at Eric, then back at Gordie. “Start, as in design, build, and go live?”

“Yeah, pretty much. We were going to put off the decision until June, but there’s a huge technology grant out there that we’re up for, and if we can tell the funder that we’ve got a design ready to go, that will go a long way towards us getting the grant and start spending it in July. The grant’s for a year, so go-live would have to be by July of ’96.”

“A year and a half,” said Eric, “to basically build and implement an entire system. I’ve already talked to Rudy and the boys. What do you think?”

Donny flipped through a couple of pages of notes as he gathered his thoughts. Finally he said, “Think I need a beer and something to eat.”

Gordie laughed. “If you say yes, I’ll buy both.”

They went to a small Mexican restaurant on the edge of town. The food was good and the conversation between Eric and Gordie was lively, but Donny paid little attention to any of it. The thousands of details started running through his head, everything from using Pelican to redesigning most of it to finding out how to connect all the systems and upgrading the computers. If any of these thoughts were running through Eric’s mind, he didn’t say anything, and when Gordie dropped them off at the hotel, Eric said, “We’ll give you the answer in the morning, but right now it looks good, doesn’t it, Donny?” Donny nodded silently.

He was heading for the elevator when the desk clerk waved him down and handed him a pink message slip. It said, Please call Evan Gilmour before 8. It took him a few moments to remember who he was, then it came to him: the screenwriter Trish was recommending to take over the writing on Small Town Boys. He had completely put that part of his life out of his head.

Donny looked at his watch. It was 7:35, so he shrugged, found an outside line phone and dialed the number.

A woman answered, but when Donny asked for Evan Gilmour she said “Just a sec,” and put the phone down. He could hear distant water running into a sink, then a voice said “Thanks,” and the phone was picked up. “Hello?” said the baritone voice.”

“Hi, it’s Don Hollenbeck, returning your call?”

“Oh, hi! Hey, sorry to bother you while you’re working, but I’m here in Fairview visiting my sister – she and her husband just got back from a trip – and I wondered if we might, y’know, get together and just, y’know, chat?”

“Sure,” said Donny, thinking that a little chat about the fantasy world of TV shows might take his mind off the spinning universe of functional specs and conversion tables.

“Great. I can be at the hotel in about fifteen minutes; is that okay?”

“Sure. I’ll be there.”

Donny went up to the room to drop off his briefcase and put on a sweater. Eric was standing in the hall carrying on a quiet but intense conversation with Rudy, who responded by barely nodding his head. They didn’t even notice Donny as he went by.

He found a copy of the local newspaper on one of the tables in the lobby and was reading about the local high school sports team when a tall man wearing a well-worn Carhart coat came into the lobby. He looked at Donny, smiled, and strode over to him.

“Hi, I’m Evan,” he said. His grip was firm, and Donny was reminded of the actor Treat Williams. He was clean-shaven with a ruddy, wind-burned face, bright eyes, and thick brown hair over heavy eyebrows. He shrugged off the coat to reveal a grey flannel shirt over faded jeans and work-boots. He had a solid build, and as he sat down, Donny caught a faint whiff of a barnyard. Evan seemed to know he was giving off the scent and he chuckled ruefully. “Sorry about that; I spent most of this morning repairing the fence in the corral, and goats can be odiferous.”

“You raise goats?”

“Yeah, my partner and I have about fifteen or so. We sell them for their wool, and occasionally for other things. Once you get the smell in your clothes, though, nothing gets it out.”

“No problem,” said Donny. “I’m from Ohio and I know all about farms.”

“Good.” Evan smiled. “Well, it’s nice to meet you. He pulled a folded piece of paper out of his back pocket. “Look, I took the liberty of jotting down a few notes…y’know, some questions I had about the script. You mind if we go over them?”

Donny glanced around the lobby. Other than the desk clerk, it was empty. “Sure, no problem.

“Okay.” Evan smoothed the paper out and then put on some glasses. “Yeah, in the scene where Bobby is in the kitchen….”

It turned out that Evan’s questions were more about the interaction of the characters rather than Donny’s script-writing abilities, and Donny had to think back to what he was thinking about as he wrote them. There were a few questions he couldn’t answer, so he just shook his head and said, “I don’t remember what I was thinking about then,” to which Evan nodded solemnly and went on to the next one. He offered no suggestions as to how he would have written it, nor did he make any kind of indication as to whether or not he agreed with Donny’s answers. Finally he slowly folded the paper, took off his glasses, and looked at Donny with a sober expression.

“Well, I think you’ve a workable idea here, Don.” He paused and Donny wondered if he was supposed to say something, but as he was getting ready to reply with a simple “thanks,” Evan said, “I’m sure you’ve gotten a lot of feedback from people like your agent and stuff, but I gotta tell ya, as one writer to another, I think you’ve given us something to work with. Your dialogue’s great, the characters are believable and likable, and you don’t get into a lot of soap opera drama.”

Now Donny said “Thanks.”

Evan shrugged. “That may be your biggest problem, though. Aaron’s instinct – write what will sell – has proven to be true. People want edge-of-the-seat drama; they want to know what choices the character will make and make them tough enough to stick it out through the commercial break. I think it’s a great idea, treating gay guys as just guys, y’know, with all the usual stuff that people go through every day – work, friends, family – just normal people, that’s all, with all the usual dramas. Get rid of the stereotypes, the flamers, the queens, the disco babies….” Evan shrugged. “Hell, do we really know anyone who really fits into that category?” He stopped himself and grinned. “Well, yeah, actually, I do. But do you want to see them on TV?”

Donny nodded. “No, and that’s why I wrote it instead of Aaron.”

Evan shook his head. “Aaron wrote what he did because he thought he was writing what Jeremy Dixon would do. I hear that’s all over, though. Your deal with getting Jeremy to do the pilot, I mean.” Evan glanced at him. “I hear you had something to do with that.”

“Yep,” Donny said softly, flashing back to the afternoon in the conference room overlooking downtown Los Angeles.

Evan smiled a little. “Good. I hate that prick,” he said, meaning Jeremy. “But the tough part is turning this” – he tapped the paper – “into something that people will watch without turning it into that,” and he pointed to the large TV in the other part of the lobby that was silently showing a car chase from a rerun of The Rockford Files.

“Yeah,” Donny said, “so I’ve been told.”

“So, tell me where you went to school.”

“You mean college? Bowling Green.”

“In Kentucky?”

“Ohio. Bowling Green State University.”

“Huh. Didn’t know they had a film school there.”

Donny shook his head. “They don’t, as far as I know. I took a couple of English and computer classes a few years ago.”

Evan looked puzzled. “So where’d you learn to write film scripts?”

Donny told him about helping Mike out with the scripts for Return to Sender and writing Small Town Boys by following Silver Star from the shooting script. Evan listened silently, then shook his head. “Jesus,” he muttered, “if word ever got out….”

“What?”

Evan looked at him with bemused wonder. “Well, here are all these people who spend all these years in college and grad school learning about how to write the perfect film, and then hustle their ass off just to get a synopsis read at a studio, and you bat out a script in a weekend and are about to start shooting with Jack Magahee’s money.”

Donny replied, “I’ve heard that,” thinking back to the evening in Paul’s office with Aaron in Palm Springs.

“Well, I was all set to give you a hard time as to why – at least according to my agent – I shouldn’t be considering working for a low-budget pilot that’s going to end up on the ass-end of cable TV. But now that I’ve actually read the script….” Evan leaned back a little. “So when do you actually think you’ll get going on this?”

“I’m leaving that all up to Trish,” Donny replied. “I’ve got something a little more involved going on.” He gave Evan a brief outline of what he was doing for the school system and what the future looked like for him as far as Small Town Boys was concerned. “So,” Donny concluded, “for the next year or so, I’m going to be up to my neck in work doing my real job.” He glanced at Evan and added apologetically, “Not that what you do isn’t a real job. It’s just that…”

“No, I get it,” said Evan. “No offense taken. Frankly, I’m a little envious; I could use a steady paycheck rather than what this business pays you. The last steady gig I had got cancelled halfway through the third season because the co-star needed to go into rehab. Not what you call job security. Fortunately I still get royalty checks and I have a partner who comes from a rich family.” He stood up and started to pull on his coat. “Well, if you’re still interested, I’d like to give it a shot.”

Donny stood up and nodded. “Yeah, I’ll let Trish know. She kinda had decided anyway, but….”

Evan grinned a little. “My people will call your people, right?”

“Something like that.”

Evan handed him a business card. “Keep in touch.” He gave Donny an appreciative look. “I gotta say, you’re not exactly what I pictured when I heard about what you do for a living. I had this whole computer nerd thing going; y’know, skinny, geeky, glasses….”

“Yeah, I guess I’m sorta the exception that proves the rule,” Donny replied. He thought of Rudy, Vince, and Jordan. “But hey, we’ve got a couple of them with us….”

Evan laughed. “No, thanks. Listen, if you’re going to be in the area, maybe you could come down to my place for dinner or something.”

"Yeah, sure," he said. "Thanks.

Evan shook his hand, patted him on the shoulder, and said, "Talk to you soon." Donny watched him stride out of the lobby, and a moment later a rather battered Chevy pick-up truck pulled out of the parking lot. He was pretty sure he had just been hit on.

Donny watched him stride out of the lobby, and a moment later a rather battered Chevy pick-up truck pulled out of the parking lot. He was pretty sure he had just been hit on.

Eric was lying on his bed, talking on the phone. The TV was on, but the sound was muted. He had taken off his shirt and pants and was wearing only a t-shirt and boxers. He laughed as Donny came into the room, and said, “Oh, I think they’ll go for that. We can write it into the contract as part of the conversion.” He looked at Donny, pointed at the receiver, and mouthed “Greg.” “Oh, here’s F. Scott McStudly now. Yeah, he spent all day charming the staff. Yeah, sure,” Eric continued, then handed the receiver to Donny. “He wants to know when you can move up here.”

Donny took the phone and told Greg about his day with the administrative staff. Meanwhile, Eric took off the rest of his clothes and went to the bathroom to take a shower.

“So,” said Greg, “it’s up to you, Donny. The boys think we can do it and make the deadline. What say you?”

Donny heard the shower start up and Eric started humming, a little off-key. He sat on the bed, still fingering Evan’s card, glanced at the TV with the same episode of The Rockford Files, and said, “Sure.”

Small Town Boys - Chapter 52

Chapter Guide

Gone

It took a lot of phone calls to the airlines and the authorities in several states, but by Thursday they were able to piece together what had happened.

Tyler had arrived in Chicago and was met by an airline agent who was assigned to escort him to the departure gate for the flight to Traverse City. There was a long layover and the airport was having one of the busiest days of the year, so once the agent got Tyler checked in, he was left in the care of the agent at the gate who was already busy with taking care of the passengers who were already there. By the time the plane was ready for boarding, Tyler had vanished. The plane was held for a few minutes while the P.A. system paged him again and again, then the flight left.

In the meantime, a skinny blond kid in a green ski parka with a small blue American Tourister carryon bought an open-return ticket for a flight to Seattle on another airline. The ticket, paid for in cash, was sold to a Mike Lankowski who gave his address as Hinsdale, Illinois, and since he was under sixteen, he was not required to show any form of identification. Mike charmed the youthful male ticket agent out of a free upgrade to first class. The next morning the open-return ticket was exchanged for a flight to LAX. By the time police and the airlines had been notified, he had vanished. The ticket agent in Chicago was put on suspension pending a review.

Mike stopped by the house on his way back from Palm Springs Thursday afternoon after Donny called him and told him what had happened. He spent a over an hour on the phone with Tyler’s father, trying to assure him that they would do everything they could to find him and trying to talk him out of flying out there to look for him. “Clark, I have a lot of people who have a lot of connections with the authorities out here, and I’ll make sure that the word gets out. The only thing you can do out here is sit and worry, and you can do that in Maple City and save yourself a thousand bucks.”

“Who do you know with a lot of connections with the authorities?” Danny asked Mike after he hung up.

He smirked and shook his head. “What did you want me to say, that the kid’s disappeared and is probably hustling in West Hollywood?” He looked at his watch. “I gotta get going; Jason’s meeting me in an hour. We might have something on this sci-fi flick.”

After Mike left, Donny said, “I might know someone.”

An hour later Marc joined them on the patio. He was still in his work clothes, except he had taken off his tie. Donny handed him the pictures that Tyler had sent him with the Christmas card. “Cute kid,” Marc said. “He’ll probably do all right in terms of attracting guys who are into chicken.”

“What’s ‘chicken’?” Danny said.

“Underage guys. Twinks. Old enough to screw but under eighteen. Some guys are into it,” Marc said with a scowl. “Problem is, a lot of the older guys are into rough stuff, too, and it goes without saying there’s a lot of drugs going on, too. Fuckin’ scary.”

“So,” said Donny hesitantly, “do you know…?”

Marc grimaced. “Do I know my way around this trade?”

“Well, yeah.”

“I still get older guys looking for one more trick with young Rusty,” said Marc, looking at Danny as if he was expecting a negative reaction. But Danny just nodded. He picked up the pictures. “Can I hang on to these?”

“Sure. What are you gonna do?”

“Check out the usual hangouts.”

“You want us to go with you?” Danny offered.

“Nah. I’m better off doing this by myself, and if I meet him, he won’t know me.” Marc grinned a little. “Besides, neither of you look like hustlers. No offense.”

“None taken, I think,” replied Danny.

“When are you gonna look for him?”

Marc glanced at his watch. “I’ll go by the bars on the way home. If he’s as enterprising as you say he is, he might be there. Or he might be hanging out on Venice Beach for all I know. Don’t get your hopes up; I doubt we’ll find this kid right away. Chances are he’s gonna hook up with some sugar daddy with a lot of money and a passion for screwing kids. Once he gets tired of him he’ll toss his ass out and get the next number off the bus from Ohio or wherever. That’s probably how Jeremy got his start. Don’t expect me to find him tonight, ‘cause even if the people I know have seen him, they know I’m out of the business and they’re not gonna confide in me. It’s a tight community.” He got up, then looked at Donny solemnly. “You got a minute?”

Danny got the hint. “Good to see you, Marc, and thanks for the help. I need to hit the books.” They shook hands and Danny went into the house.

“What’s going on?” asked Donny.

Marc bit his lip and looked away. “Look, I’ll do everything I can to help you find this kid, but I sure hope that every time you think of a teenage hustler I’m not the first person who comes to mind.”

“Oh, shit. No, Marc. I didn’t mean it like that. I just thought….”

“Yeah, I know. You thought I might know some people. The fact is, Donny, I’d really rather forget about that part of my life.”

“I’m really sorry,” Donny said, feeling the guilt running through him like a knife.

Marc shrugged. “It’s okay, Donny.” He looked back at him. “Speaking of teenage hustlers…”

“What?”

“Barry Kessler,” Marc said simply.

“Barry Kessler…your teacher? What about him? Did he get busted again?”

Marc smiled wanly. “No. He’s teaching in a school outside Simi Valley.”

“Jesus,” replied Donny. “They hired him after all the…?”

“He was acquitted, remember? Besides, he’s old friends with the headmaster there. They take care of each other. And he’s not coaching football.”

“How’d you know all this?”

“He called me up over Thanksgiving. We had coffee. We talked. We….” Marc’s voice trailed off.

“So…”

“Yeah.”

“I thought you hated him.”

Marc shook his head. “I was pissed at him for dragging me into that lawsuit, and I told him that. But…”

“So is that what you were gonna tell me back after Thanksgiving?”

Marc looked at him quizzically.

“The morning we came back to work,” Donny reminded him. “Having coffee. ‘Look, um….’ You don’t remember.”

Marc smiled a little. “There was so much going on with Starship Enterprise and year-end. But… yeah, I wanted to tell you that Barry and I were seeing each other.”

“Is it serious?”

“You mean are we gonna live together?”

“Yeah.”

“I don’t know. I’m… He’s got a lot of things to deal with. Beth is bleeding him dry over alimony, he’s barely making thirty-five grand a year and having to live here isn’t cheap. And he’s a little touchy about moving in with a guy.”

“Yeah, I can understand that,” replied Donny drily.

“I just wanted you to know, y’know, so… you and me….”

“Yeah, I get it,” said Donny quickly.

Marc nodded and then said, “Well, if I’m gonna find this kid I guess I’d better be going.”

They walked out to the driveway. “By the way,” Marc said as he got in his car, “what should I do if I spot him?”

Donny stopped in his tracks. “I don’t know; I never thought of that.”

“I’ll play it by ear,” Marc said as he started the engine. “I’ll call you when I get home.”

Donny watched until the car was out of sight down the street. He stood at the end of the driveway staring after it, feeling a sudden sense of loss, regret, and not a little twinge of envy for Barry Kessler.

Marc called as Donny was getting ready for bed. “Nothing,” he said simply. “No sign of him. And I asked at all the usual places.” He chuckled slightly. “I think my bartender buddies must think I’m hot for teenagers now, but screw ‘em.”

“Okay,” replied Donny. “Look,” he began, hesitated, then plunged ahead. “I think it’s great about you and Barry. I mean, as long as you’re happy…”

Marc sighed a little. “Yeah. I shoulda told you earlier, I guess.”

“Nah, that’s okay…you don’t…”

“Well, yeah, I know…but you and me…we were….”

“No problem, Marc. It was … fun.”

“This isn’t gonna get uncomfortable at work, is it?” Marc asked tentatively.

“Huh? Oh hell no,” Donny replied quickly. “We’re good.”

“Okay. Um… I’ll do what I can to help you find Tyler. But L.A.’s a big city. How old did you say he is?”

“Fifteen, sixteen.”

“Damn,” said Marc sadly. “Things must really be rough for him at home.”

Danny was back in the guest room, lying in bed reading out of a black notebook when Donny tapped on the door. Danny shut the book, and Donny told him what Marc had said. He also told him about Barry.

Danny put his hands behind his head and leaned back. “Damn, twin, it’s been an interesting couple of days.”

“Yeah.”

“Well, you ready for some more news?”

Donny raised an eyebrow. “You’ve been drafted by the Dodgers?”

“Close. I’ve got orders.”

“Where to?”

“Can’t say. And I mean that literally. I don’t know. All I know is that I report to the base tomorrow night with all my stuff and that it will be for an indeterminate length.”

“Any guesses?”

“Even if I had an idea, I couldn’t tell you.”

“Yeah, I got that. So, you want me to keep an eye on the Jeep?”

Danny shrugged. “Maybe I should just sell it. I didn’t need it at the last place, and I can’t see any point in paying insurance and shit on something that’s just taking up space in your garage. Why don’t we just go down to your Chevy dealer and see what they’ll give me for it?”

“I don’t mind keeping it for you. But…” He shrugged. “If that’s what you want.”

His brother looked at him with a knowing smile. “Yeah, I know. Cutting the last tie. But we kinda knew this was gonna happen.”

They looked at each other in silence for a moment, then Danny got up and hugged his brother. They held each other silently, neither of them wanting to let go until finally Donny heard Danny gasp back a sob.

“C’mon,” Donny whispered, and without a word they went into the master bedroom and just as they had done when they were five years old and a thunderstorm had roared outside their bedroom window, they held each other until they both finished crying and fell asleep on top of the covers.

Promptly at six the next evening an Air Force sedan pulled up to the curb in front of the house and a young corporal trotted up to the door and rang the bell. Danny smartly returned the salute and handed his bags to the soldier. He turned to Donny.

“Well, twin, this is it,” he said, his bright eyes peering out from under the brim of his hat. “I’ll be in touch with you as soon as I’m allowed, but I wouldn’t count on hearing from me for a while.”

“Right,” Donny said. They shook hands quickly, and Danny followed the corporal down to the car. He didn’t look back as he got in the back seat, and the car drove off down the street. Donny went in the house and closed the door.

He was used to the silence of the house, but as he went into the guest room to close the blinds and turn off the light, he could almost feel it. Danny, in his military fashion, had left the room neat and tidy. The bed was made with clean sheets, the towels folded with military precision, even the dresser top dusted. The only remnant of his visit was a single crumpled piece of paper in the waste basket. It was a Post-It note with firm handwriting on it: HOLLENBECK D.E. 1LT. He went around the rest of the house collecting the trash and took the bag out to the garage.

The empty space where the Jeep used to be parked made a noticeable hole in the garage, even though it meant that Donny could now get into the Mustang without having to back the Tahoe out first. The dealer had offered Danny a low-ball price and it took a little firm wrangling to him to come around, but after an hour they left the dealership with a check. Danny didn’t look back at the Jeep parked off to the side of the lot, and promptly deposited the check into his account. He had taken one last swim, ate a sandwich, packed quickly, dressed in his Class A uniform, and then he and Donny had sat on the patio, waiting for his ride. They said little out loud, but they didn’t need to.

There was nothing on TV, and he was thinking about going out to Blockbuster to rent a movie when the phone rang. It was Mike.

“Hey, how are you?” Donny said.

“Okay. Just wanted you to know that I talked to Clark again. Still no word on Tyler, I guess.”

“Nope.”

“Yeah,” said Mike, sounding somber. “I guess the cops put out his picture, but….” He let the words drift away, then changed the subject. “Hey, Jason got me a guest star part on Law & Order.”

“Hey, great,” Donny replied. “When do you start?”

“Leave for New York tomorrow afternoon. Not exactly a starring role in a feature, but it’s work and if they like me, it might turn out to be a permanent gig. They’re talking about doing some spinoffs.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Hey, you go with what you got, right? Your thing’s still in pre-production, right?”

“Yeah…”

“Yeah, so…anyway, what’re you guys doing?”

“Nothing. Danny’s been called up for duty. Left about an hour ago. Thinking about renting a movie.”

“Want some company?”

Donny knew what Mike meant, and in spite of himself, he grinned a little and felt his crotch swell a little.

“Sure.”

Mike spent the night, falling asleep on his left side, his back to Donny like he always had, his gentle snoring a reminder to Donny of the first night they had spent together in the same bed in the same house but what seemed like a lifetime ago. The alarm woke them and Mike left while it was still dark, giving Donny a quick coffee-flavored kiss before going back to his own place to get ready for his trip east. “Happy New Year,” he said softly. “Got any plans?”

“Nah,” replied Donny. “Maybe hang out with Eric and Greg. Seen one, seen ‘em all. You gonna do the Times Square thing?”

“Maybe. If I do, I’ll wave to you on the TV.”

Donny chuckled. “I’ll be sure to look for it.”

“See ya.” Mike waved, strode out to his car, and was gone. Donny closed the door, and went back to make the bed. It still had the faint scent of Mike’s cologne, and it lingered as he put the pillows in place and drew the comforter up.

Small Town Boys - Chapter 51

Chapter Guide

Tyler’s Big Adventure

“Whoa,” said Danny. “Kid’s got some stones.”

Donny had the phone muffled against his chest. “His folks must be freaked,” he said.

“No doubt.” Danny grabbed his keys. “I’ll go pick him up. Meanwhile, you get hold of his parental units and let’em know where he is and that he’s okay.” He glanced at the roast on the counter. “Good thing we’ve got enough to feed him.”

Donny told Tyler that Danny was on his way. “He’s driving a dark green Jeep Wrangler with Colorado plates. What airline did you come in on?”

“United,” Tyler said.

“Okay. Meet him at the arrivals level of Terminal Seven. He should be there in about a half-hour or so. Have you called your folks and let them know where you are?”

There was a long pause. Donny could hear the P.A. in the background paging Mr. Lopez. Then Tyler said, “I’ll be outside looking for the Jeep. I’m wearing a green parka.” The line went dead.

Donny put the phone down. “He’s wearing a green parka. Sounds like he didn’t call his folks.”

“Well,” said Danny, “you do it, then. Meanwhile, I’ll get him back here.”

“You remember what he looks like? From the pictures?”

“Skinny blond kid with a green ski parka. Not too hard to spot.”

The Jeep roared out of the driveway. Donny called directory assistance to get the number of Clark Herlinger in Maple City, Michigan, but the number he got was for the clinic: “Merry Christmas and thank you for calling the Northview Veterinary Hospital. At the present time our office is closed. If this is an emergency, please call the Cherryland Emergency Vet Clinic at…” Donny hung up and thought for a moment. If he couldn’t reach Tyler’s parents directly, he could try getting the number from Mike’s parents. He remembered the card that Mike had given him with the Lankowski’s number on it, and then remembered that he had neatly placed it in his Rolodex at the office. He cursed under his breath, called directory assistance again and asked for Eugene Lankowski, and got the same number for the clinic. Well, he thought, the last resort is to try to get in touch with Mike. He found the number for the Villa on a card in his wallet. The phone was answered on the second ring. “Villa Castelfranco di Sopra,” said a smooth male voice.

“I’m trying to get in touch with, uh, Lance Michaels.”

“I’m sorry, sir, but there’s no one here by that name.”

“Um, how about Michael Lankowski?”

“I’m sorry, sir,” replied the voice and hung up.

Donny then remembered that guests were issued passwords when they checked in so that incoming calls wouldn’t be blocked, but Mike had not called to give it to him. He cursed again, then tried calling Paul Jeffries. There was no answer; he too was probably out at the Villa. He thought about calling the Villa again and explaining that it was an emergency, but he knew that the staff was well-trained and wouldn’t put any call through without the password.

Momentarily stymied, he went into the kitchen and started to get the roast ready, all the while wracking his brains about who he could call. Marc? He wouldn’t know the password, and he was in Santa Barbara. He peeled the carrots and chopped them up and was quartering the potatoes and had decided that the only solution was to try the Villa again when the phone rang. It was Trish calling to wish him a merry Christmas.

“Same to you, Trish. Hey, maybe you can help…” He explained the situation, and smiled to himself when Trish had virtually the same response that Danny had had: “Wow, that takes balls.”

“Yeah, so I’ve heard. I need to get in touch with Mike. He knows how to get in touch with the kid’s parents, but he’s out at the Villa and I don’t know the password, so…”

“The guardians at the gate won’t let you in. How ‘Dungeons and Dragons’ can you get?”

“Yeah, right. Can you help me out here?”

“Hey, I’m your producer.”

“And…?”

“I’ll call you back with it in a few.”

“Perfect.”

Trish was as good as her word. Donny had just put the roast in when she called back. “The magic word is ‘wassail.’”

“Wassail?”

“It’s Christmas. What did you expect; ‘gay apparel’?”

“How’d you get it?”

“If I told you, I’d have to kill you. Merry Christmas, Donny. I hope the kid gets home all right.”

Donny called the Villa again and gave the password. “Yes sir, how may I direct your call?”

There was no answer in Mike’s room, and after ten rings the operator came back on and said he could take a message. “Ask him to call Donny at home, please.”

Nearly an hour later and as the aroma of the cooking roast was filling the house, the Jeep pulled into the driveway. Tyler had taken off the parka, but he was still wearing a sweater. He looked tired and a little overwhelmed, as if he had nothing to do with what had happened to him. Danny carried in his small light-blue American Tourister suitcase.

“Hello, Ty,” said Donny. “So, what’s going on?” he added trying not to sound judgmental or hostile.

“Hi, Don,” the boy replied, sounding tired, and noticing the smell of the food, looked around the kitchen.

Donny held out the cordless phone. “Call your parents. Now.” Tyler shook his head, and Donny started to say, “Either you do it or I will,” but Danny interrupted. “Why don’t we get you settled in, Ty? I’ll show you where the guest room is, then you can get cleaned up and we’ll get some chow.”

“Okay.”

Danny glanced at his twin, and Donny nodded reluctantly. A few minutes later Danny came back alone and leaned against the counter in the kitchen. “He’s gonna take a shower. Were you able to get in touch with his ‘rents?”

Donny told him about the phone calls.

“Take it easy on him for now, okay?” Danny said, munching on a stray carrot slice, “He’s carrying around a real bagful of pissed off, and for the moment he doesn’t need to get it from anyone else. Something really heavy’s going on for a kid to run away like that.”

“Did he say what?”

“No, but the first thing he said to me was ‘I’m not going back,’ and he was quite proud of how he pulled off his escape.”

“How’d he do it?”

“His parents are away this weekend a Christian Christmas retreat. They belong to a church that doesn’t go overboard with celebrating the holiday, I guess. They’re supposed to be back tonight, but while they were gone, Ty was spending the time with his aunt and uncle in Traverse City. Yesterday afternoon he told them he was going to do some shopping at the mall, but instead he got on a bus to Grand Rapids, spent the night in the airport, and got on an early flight this morning to Chicago connecting to Los Angeles.”

“Just like that.”

Danny shook his head. “Nope. He bought the ticket three weeks ago with his birthday money and allowance. He knew enough to buy the ticket when it was still discounted. My experience with AWOL’s is that they don’t do it on the spur of the moment; it’s timed out to the last detail like The Great Escape. He got his cousin to cover for him, and my guess is that nobody noticed he was gone until sometime this morning when he was halfway here. And unless the cousin breaks under interrogation, they won’t know where to look for him until he wants them to know.”

“Yeah, well, as soon as Mike calls back, they’re gonna know,” said Donny firmly.

A few minutes later the phone rang. It was Mike. He sounded cheerful until Donny told him why he’d called, at which time his tone changed to all business. “I’ll make the call. You don’t know Clark, and getting a phone call like that from a stranger will only make it worse. For them and for Ty.”

Tyler came into the kitchen wearing clean jeans and a Traverse Bay Christian Academy shirt. His hair was still damp from the shower. Danny went to set the dining table in the sunroom while Donny finished the last of the meal preparations. Tyler offered to help, so Donny had him mix the salad dressing.

“So you guys are twins,” Tyler said, looking out to the sunroom.

“Yep,” replied Donny, preparing the standard answers to the usual questions. But Tyler said, “Wish I had a brother.”

“Only child, huh?”

“I had a sister, but she died,” he said simply, shaking the cruet.

“Oh, sorry to hear that.”

Tyler shrugged. “She was only a couple of month old when it happened. Mom said the Lord needed her in heaven.”

Donny looked at him to see if he was being cynical, but his expression was unreadable. The oven timer went off.

Donny opened a bottle of wine. Tyler had a Coke, and before they ate, Donny raised his glass, much like his father did, and said, “A Merry Christmas to all near and far. Good to have you here, Danny. You too, Ty.” Tyler nodded, then folded his hands together in prayer and murmured a sotto voce grace. The twins waited respectfully until the boy looked up again and smiled a little. “Thanks for…having me,” he said.

They ate slowly, the conversation a little strained because Danny couldn’t talk about what he was doing other than to say he was a first lieutenant in the Air Force, and Donny’s work on the Starship Enterprise project wasn’t really that interesting to anyone outside of the business, and he decided not to bring up Small Town Boys, fairly certain that he didn’t want Tyler going back home and telling his parents that he had spent his time in L.A. with the executive producer of a TV program about gay men.

They were just finishing up when the phone rang. Tyler looked stricken. Donny got up from the table and took the call on the cordless in the living room. It was Mike. He had spoken with his parents, who had gotten in touch with the retreat center where the Herlingers were staying in Houghton Lake. They would be home at six o’clock Eastern Time. Donny looked at his watch; that wasn’t for another couple of hours at least. “Call your folks back and give them my cell phone,” Donny said, “just in case, okay?”

“I already did,” Mike said. “I know how this town works.”

Donny went back to the table and told a visibly relieved Tyler that his parents weren’t home yet. “So, before they get there, whaddaya say we give you a little tour of Southern California while you’re here. I don’t think we’ve got time to go to Disneyland, but we can at least see some of the sights.”

They cleared the table and cleaned up the kitchen quickly. Donny backed the Mustang out of the garage. It was a nice sunny afternoon, so he put the top down.

There wasn’t much traffic on Christmas Day, so they went up Santa Monica Boulevard to Beverly Hills, past some of the more notable mansions, then east to Hollywood. They stopped in front of the Chinese theatre and walked along several blocks of the Walk of Fame. Tyler seemed to enjoy it, but he admitted that he hadn’t seen a lot of movies since his parents didn’t approve of most of what came out of Hollywood.

“Where’s your gym?” Tyler asked.

“We can drive by there, but it’s closed today,” Donny replied.

“Oh, okay,” Tyler said, sounding disappointed.

They drove back to the house, and Tyler asked if he could go in the pool. “I brought my trunks.”

“Sure,” Donny said. “We’ll join you.”

Tyler emerged from the guest room in faded shorts that hung almost to his knees. Danny pulled on his AFA suit and sweatshirt and Donny put on his most modest surfer jams. The air was still cool, but sitting in the sun took the edge off. Donny swam some laps at first, then Danny found an old nerf ball left over from a previous tenant and they played a rousing game of keep-away, Tyler diving and plunging for the ball, at one time nearly climbing on Donny’s back to get it away from him.

When he finally tired of the game, Tyler sat on the steps in the shallow end, the water lapping around his chest. “I can’t believe I’m in an outdoor swimming pool on Christmas Day,” he said. “I can’t believe I’m in California.” All Donny could say was, “Yeah, well.”

It was almost dark when Clark Herlinger called. Tyler was in the living room watching TV. His voice was measured, almost cheerful, and he thanked Donny for taking care of Tyler. “I can’t fault him for getting in touch with you as soon as he got there,” Clark said.

Donny walked out to the patio, leaving Tyler in the living room. “Not a problem. I’ll make the arrangements to get him back as soon as possible.”

“Let me give you my credit card number,” said Clark.

“Don’t worry about it. That’s the least of your worries. I guess you want to talk to him,” said Donny, looking through the sunroom into the living room. Tyler was staring back at him.

“Yes, please,” he replied, and Donny beckoned to Tyler. He came outside to the patio, but before Donny handed him the phone Tyler said, “Is he mad?”

Donny covered the phone. “I don’t know, Ty. He’s your dad.” He handed him the phone. “Talk to him.”

Tyler took the phone reluctantly and sat down in one of the plastic chairs by the patio table. “Hi, Dad,” he said almost mournfully. Donny went back into the house and made a point of not looking back. He went into the office where Danny was setting up his new computer. Twenty minutes later, Donny looked out to the patio. The lights were on in the bushes and in the pool. Tyler was still sitting in the chair, his back to the house, but Donny could see that his shoulders were shaking, and as he approached the door he could hear him talking. Donny went into the kitchen, got a couple of beers, and went back to the office.

A few minutes later Tyler came in, holding out the phone to Donny. “He wants to talk to you again,” he said. He had wiped his face, but it was obvious that he had been crying.

“Hello, Dr. Herlinger,” Donny began.

“Please call me Clark. I just wanted to say again how grateful Stephanie and I are for you taking care of him, and it goes without saying that I’ll reimburse you for any expenses, including the airfare.”

“Don’t worry about it,” said Donny. He wrote down the Herlinger’s home number. He felt an overwhelming urge to say something, anything, hoping to let Clark know that he hoped they wouldn’t go too hard on their son when he got home, but he knew it wouldn’t mean anything coming from him. So all he said was, “I’ll call you in the morning with the flight information.”

“Thank you, Don. Good bye.”

He had no sooner hung up the phone when it rang. It was Eric. “So are we still on for tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow?” said Donny.

“Twins day out. Remember?”

“Oh, shit, that’s right.” Donny took the phone into the office and closed the door. He quickly explained the situation.

“Holy shit. That explains why your line’s been busy forever,” said Eric. “Well, if you don’t want to do it…”

“No, it’s cool. We gotta keep him entertained until we ship him back Tuesday morning; might as well make a day of it.”

“Sure, what the hell,” replied Eric. “Wow, the kid ran away all the way from Michigan. What’s up with that?”

“I have no idea,” said Donny. “He’s definitely got some problems at home, though. So tomorrow let’s just be cool and not give him the third degree.”

“Say no more,” said Eric. “See you in the morning.”

Donny went back to the living room. Tyler had the TV on again, flipping through all the channels on the cable. “I guess you don’t get as many channels up in Michigan,” he said.

Tyler shook his head. “We don’t have cable.” He scanned past a few more, including ESPN, Univision, and the Weather Channel.

“I don’t watch that many,” Donny said. “Mainly the networks and HBO.”

Tyler turned off the TV. “I have to go back,” he said, as if there was any doubt.

“I know. I’m going to get on the phone to the airlines in a few minutes and see what we can do about that.”

Danny came into the room and leaned against the doorjamb into the kitchen, his arms folded across his chest, looking at Tyler with studied interest, the way a teacher watches a student taking a test. “Well, Ty,” he said casually, “you told me how you got here… So you want to tell us why?”

“They’re gonna send me to a boarding school.”

“Your folks?”

“Yeah.”

“When?”

“I’m supposed to start right after New Year’s.”

“Where is it?” Donny asked.

“Somewhere in Tennessee. It’s run by the church.”

“Well,” replied Donny, not sure what to say. “What’s…?”

“Any reason that they’re doing that?” Danny interrupted.

“They want me to spend more time on my schoolwork and serving the Lord,” Tyler said hollowly.

“What’s wrong with the school you go to now?” said Danny, indicating the shirt.

“It’s…nothing. I like it there. Got a lot of friends.”

“Grades okay?”

Tyler shrugged. “Not bad. B’s, mostly.”

“So why send you away?”

Tyler was silent for a moment. “My mom thinks there are too many… distractions. Too many temptations that lead away from …”

“And sticking you in a boarding school will put an end to that.”

Tyler nodded and whispered, “Yeah, I guess so.”

“Well, I can think of a couple of hundred ways of dealing with the situation better than how you did it,” Donny said.

“I just… I just don’t want to go to that school. I don’t know anyone there and it’s…so far away.”

“Los Angeles is a lot further than Tennessee, and you don’t know anyone here, either.”

“I know you,” Tyler said, looking at Donny hopefully.

“So,” Danny said, “what’s your plan?”

“My plan?”

“Sure. You got to L.A. Now what? What are you gonna do?”

Tyler shrugged. “I dunno…”

Danny looked at Donny. “See, twin, that’s the trouble guys with going AWOL. They plan the escape down to the last detail, but once they’re over the wall, they haven’t a clue what to do next, so they usually get caught pretty quick because they don’t have a plan. The MP’s know this, so they look in the most obvious places; a local bar or cat house or back home. Back on base and into the brig in less than twelve hours; forty-eight if they’re especially resourceful.”

Tyler looked stricken. “I don’t want to go back.”

“What choice have you got? What are you going to do out here? How old are you?”

“Fifteen, almost sixteen.”

Danny looked at Donny. “You’re the expert in H.R. Can a fifteen year old kid get a job here in California?”

“Flipping burgers, maybe,” Donny replied.

“I’ll do it.”

“The minimum wage is $4.25 an hour, Tyler,” Donny said. “That’s eight grand a year. You can’t live on that. Hell, you can’t live in Michigan on that, let alone L.A.”

“I could work for you. I know stuff about computers.”

Danny snorted. “Tyler, you’re not going to work for him. That’s not gonna happen. You’re gonna get back on a plane tomorrow or the next day and go back to Michigan, and if you’re lucky, your parents won’t send you off to one of those schools where they put ankle monitors on you and lock the windows at night.”

Tyler ducked his head and whispered, “I know.”

Donny looked at his brother, knowing that it was his turn in this impromptu good cop – bad cop routine. “You never really told me why your parents decided to send you off to this school.”

“Yeah, I just did.”

“Well, no. You said your mother wanted you to avoid ‘temptation.’ What exactly did she mean by that?”

Tyler stared at the blank TV screen, glanced at the twins, then bowed his head. “She found my magazines,” he said quietly.

“What magazines?” said Donny.

“Playboy? Girlie stuff?” said Danny.

Tyler shook his head vigorously, his head still down. “No. Weightlifting stuff. Muscle and Fitness. Stuff like that”

“What’s wrong with…?” Donny started to say, but Danny interrupted. “She doesn’t want you working out?”

Tyler shook his head again. “She says it’s vain and ungodly. I tried to tell her that a lot of guys who work out are Christians and that they’re trying to live up to their potential and that working out tests your resolve to sacrifice for the Lord, but…” He put his hands over his eyes for a moment, then continued. “She says it leads to ‘unnatural thoughts’ and sin.”

“Unnatural thoughts?”

“She says that looking at men like that leads to….” He struggled with the word for a moment, twisting his mouth, biting his lip, and finally whispering, “homosexuality.”

Donny shifted in his chair and said, “Look, Ty, there’s nothing in those magazines you can’t learn from just working out with your coach or what I wrote out for you, so there’s no sense in forking over all that money when you don’t need to. Trash ‘em; you’ll make your mom happy and you’ll save a few bucks.” He got up suddenly. “So, anybody want a sandwich or something?”

Donny spent over an hour on the phone trying to book a flight for Tyler out the next morning, but every airline was booked solid through every connection out of every airport within the Los Angeles area. The earliest direct flight was 9:15 Tuesday morning. “I’ll take him,” Danny offered. “I need to go out to the base anyway.”

“You can’t take me?” Tyler said to Donny.

“I have to be at work first thing Tuesday.” Donny saw the disappointment on Tyler’s face, so he tried to cheer him up a little. “Hey, tomorrow some of my friends are coming over. We’ll go check out some more sights, okay?”

They said good night in the hall, Donny making sure the guest room door was closed, then went into the master bedroom and closed the door. Danny was in the bathroom brushing his teeth. He undressed slowly and settled in to the left side of his bed, leaving enough room for Danny. “When was the last time we bunked together like this?” Danny said as he pulled the covers up.

“Boynton Beach, I think,” said Donny quietly.

“Oh, right, the Sea Breeze,” he chuckled softly. “Sand, sun, and Lucy…what was her name?”

“McMillan. From St. Louis.”

“Wow, you remember.”

“Yeah,” replied Donny, wondering what happened to Benji Rubenstein, the well-built boy from Great Neck.

Danny flicked off the light, the curtains letting in only the faint glow from the outside lights around the pool. “Well, this was an interesting Christmas,” he murmured. “You know that kid has a major league crush on you, don’t you.”

“Gee, ya think?” said Donny sarcastically. “You do realize that he was bullshitting us on the reason he ran away, too. No way he’d take off just because his mom found some muscle mags. There’s gotta be more to it than that.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know. But it’s something serious and he’s not telling us.”

“Think he’s gay?”

Donny let out a deep breath. “He’s a kid. Kids get crushes on older guys; teachers, coaches, that sort of shit all the time. You saw that in the academy, right?”

“I see it all the time with new recruits and their CO’s.”

“Well, there you go. Doesn’t mean they’re gay.”

“Doesn’t mean they’re not” replied Danny. “How old were you when you started messing around with Craig?”

“Fifteen.”

“Did you know you were gay?”

“Hell, I just knew I liked getting off. Didn’t think about it being gay or anything.”

“Well, whatever, gay or not, that kid has it bad for you. You’re gonna have to find a way to let him down slowly. And gently.”

“I know,” Donny sighed.

Danny settled his head against his pillow. “G’night, twin. Merry Christmas.” It wasn’t long before Danny was asleep, his breathing settling into the pattern that Donny knew like his own heartbeat.

*

Eric and Greg arrived the next morning a little after eight. Donny introduced Tyler to them as a friend from Michigan, and neither Eric nor Greg raised an eyebrow. After some good-natured arguing about what to do, Danny turned to Tyler. “Hey, ever seen the ocean?”

“No. Well, except for when we were coming in for the landing.”

“That settles it,” said Eric. “To quote the immortal Brian Wilson, ‘if everybody had an ocean….’ Good thing I packed my swimsuit.”

It took them a few minutes to gather up the beach stuff, but soon they piled into Donny’s Tahoe and found a parking spot near Venice Beach. It was not very crowded for the day after a holiday, but there were still people jogging, roller-blading, and even some brave surfers in wetsuits were paddling around waiting for the waves.

Tyler, his hands plunged in his jeans pockets, plodded across the grayish sand, his sneakers making small craters. They followed him down to the edge of the water. The sunlight was a little watery from the haze, but the sky was mostly clear and the air smelled of salt with a touch of smoke from the hot dog stand up the beach.

“Next stop, Hawaii,” said Danny, pointing off to the southwest.

“Wow,” said Tyler.

“Yeah, it’s a little bigger than Lake Michigan,” said Donny. He looked back up the beach to where he had first sat and chatted with Mike and where he and Eric had sat and watched Greg and Danny play football with the high school kids. This time there were some boys flipping a Frisbee back and forth while their dog – in violation of beach rules – ran back and forth between them.

“You come here a lot?” Tyler asked.

Donny thought back to the last time he’d been to the beach. It had been almost two years since he and Eric had come down here and sat on the sand. “No, not really. When you live here, you kinda forget that you live this close to it. It’s mostly for the tourists.”

They walked up the beach past the lifeguard stand. “Sorry,” said Eric, “I guess they gave Pamela Anderson the day off.” Tyler nodded as if he got the joke, but Donny doubted that he was familiar with the cast of Baywatch.

They set up camp close to their favorite spot, and Eric peeled off his shirt, revealing his lean but muscular torso and six-pack abs. Tyler looked at him and said, “You work out a lot?”

Eric grinned a little as he undid his belt and dropped his jeans, revealing his faded Ocean Pacifics. “Yeah, some,” he replied and then nodded at Donny. “Nothing like Schwarzenegger over there, but, y’know, enough to stay in shape.”

“I’m working out, too,” said Tyler, self-consciously plucking at his t-shirt.

“Good for you. Start early and you’ll be huge by the time you’re twenty or so.”

“Hope so,” said Tyler, “but I’d settle for looking as hot as you.”

Eric chuckled. “Thanks, kid,” he replied and shot Donny a quick look.” Danny nudged Donny privately and muttered, “Uh huh.”

They sat in the sun for a while, then Eric announced he was going to see how cold the water was. “Any other takers?”

“I’ll go,” said Tyler promptly.

“You’ll freeze your nuts off,” said Greg, who had already ventured down to the waterline and waded in up to his ankles.

“Nah,” he replied. “C’mon, Donny, you wanna go?”

He shrugged, snubbed out his cigarette, and followed them down to the edge of the water. It was not cold, but as he waded in, Donny didn’t feel like going in all the way, so he just went as far as his knees. Eric, however, took a running start and plunged in with a whoop, then jumped up and clutched his elbows. “Wow! Man, that’s…wild!” After a moment of hesitation, Tyler waded in up to his knees, then took a deep breath and dove in, coming up immediately and shoving his fists in his eyes. “Ow!” he exclaimed, “that stings!”

“Yeah,” laughed Eric, “salt water’ll do that to ya!” He splashed some water at Donny. “C’mon in, you big goof!”

Donny went back up to the waterline. “Nah, this is fine. You guys have fun, okay?”

“Wuss,” Eric snorted, then dove again like a porpoise, coming up a few yards further out.

He went back to his chair. Danny was telling Greg about Tyler’s adventure.

“Jesus,” Greg said, looking at Tyler splashing in the water with Eric. “You think there’s some serious shit happening at home?”

“Has to be. Teenage rebellion is one thing, but…”

Greg said to Donny, “You think he’s gay and his parents found out?”

Donny was watching Tyler and Eric horsing around in the waves. Tyler had grabbed Eric around the shoulders and was trying to climb on his back, practically mounting him from behind. “Something like that,” Donny mused. “Who knows.”

For lunch they got some very overpriced tacos and nachos, then joined in a game of ultimate Frisbee with some other people down the beach. By four o’clock they were all sticky and gritty from the sun and the sand and Donny suggested they go back to the house, clean up, and then go get some dinner. Eric and Tyler went off to the public restroom down the beach to change out of their swim suits. When they came back, Greg said to Tyler, “A little different than Michigan, huh?”

“Yeah,” said Tyler with a grin. “I like it here.”

They got ice cream cones and walked back to the car. “’Course,” Donny said, “you’ve only seen the good side of L.A. There are parts of it that pretty much resemble a war zone.”

“And the people are basically crazy,” said Danny.

“That too.”

“So why did you move here?” Tyler asked, licking the vanilla runner off the side of the cone.

“I got tired of the cold,” Donny said. “I really didn’t plan on staying. A month, tops. But I got the job and…”

“I could do that,” said Tyler.

“Yeah, but I was twenty-one, Tyler. I could sign a lease on a rental agreement. I had some money saved up. I had some marketable skills. And my parents knew where I was going when I left.” Donny started the car, made a sharp U-turn, and they drove back to the house.

They ordered take-out from the Great Wall and ate quietly on the patio. Donny noticed that Eric was mostly silent throughout the meal, and when they were done he helped Donny clear the table, leaving Danny, Greg, and Tyler chewing on their fortune cookies.

As he was dumping the boxes into the trash, Eric looked out to the patio. “So Tyler’s going home in the morning,” he said quietly.

“That’s the plan.”

“Good.” Eric closed the lid on the trashcan.

“Why do you say that?” Donny asked.

“’Cause he tried to hit on me.”

“He what?”

“He came on to me, Donny. When we were changing clothes at the beach in the restroom. He pulled off his trunks, whipped out his cock and asked me if I wanted to suck him off.”

“Holy shit.”

“Or he could do me. Either way.”

“What did you do?”

Eric glared at him. “I fucked him in the stall, Donny,” he said sarcastically. “What the hell do you think I did? I laughed it off, said no thanks, and got the hell outta there.” Eric looked out to the patio again. Tyler was sitting with his back to the house. He was talking about snowmobiling. “He was sending out vibes all day, Donny. When we were swimming, I swear he tried to grab my balls, and when he kept tackling me in the water, he kept pressing himself against me. That kid looks all sweet and innocent, but I’ve seen kids like that before, usually hanging around bars or pickup spots in West Hollywood. Get him home, Donny. He’s trouble.”

Eric and Greg left a little while later, and Donny told Eric he’d be in the office a little late; he was taking Tyler to the airport. Eric said he understood, said a perfunctory “nice to meet you” to Tyler, and waved to Danny as they backed out of the driveway.

It was still early, so they watched some TV, Tyler flipping through the channels until he found a movie on HBO. The three of them watched it in silence, and when it was over, he said, “Okay, time for bed. You’ve got an early flight.” He glanced at his brother. “And change of plans; I’m taking you to the airport.”

Tyler shrugged. “Cool.” He got up and went into the guest room and closed the door. Donny turned off the lights and set the alarm from the inside.

Danny was already in his shorts and getting into bed. “Something you want to tell me?” he said quietly. Donny told him what Eric had said. Danny shook his head. “I had a feeling about that little bastard. I’ll go with you and make sure he gets on that plane. We’ll walk him to the gate if we have to.” He plumped his pillow, rolled over and was asleep in a moment. Donny turned out the light and stared up at the ceiling.

He was at the quarry. The sun was blazing hot, and after an hour of catching sunfish and letting them go, Craig tilted his head wordlessly toward the sheep shelter. The air was a little cooler but still stifling under the splintered roof, and after they smoked a cigarette apiece Craig pulled down his jeans, fumbled with the zipper on Donny’s cutoffs, and buried his face in the damp cotton of his jockeys.

Danny was motionless in his sleep, probably from years of sleeping in barracks and close quarters with other men. Donny looked at the alarm clock. Nearly twenty minutes had passed since lights out, but sleep was no closer. He closed his eyes and tried to clear his mind, thinking of sitting on a beach and watching the clouds, but nothing worked. He thought about getting up and taking a couple of aspirin; his mom had said that was what helped her.

He quietly got out of bed and went to the bathroom, closing the door behind him. He found the Bufferin and shook out a couple of pills, washing them down with a sip or two of water. He was halfway across the room when he heard the faint click of the guest room door opening. Soft footsteps padded down the hall to the other bathroom. Donny listened by the door. A little later he heard the toilet flush, then the footsteps went down the hall, but past the guest room. Donny opened the door a crack. The hall was dark, but the lights from the back came in through the sunroom and showed Tyler in silhouette standing by the couch. After a moment, the TV came on, the glow filling the room. The sound was instantly muted, and Tyler sat on the couch, the cushions wheezing slightly.

Donny made sure that he made a little noise as he came out of his room so as not to startle the boy. The TV went off, but Tyler did not move. “Couldn’t sleep?” he asked, his voice just above a whisper. Tyler shook his head. “Me neither.” He turned on the light on the end table. Tyler was wearing a t-shirt and jockey shorts. Donny sat on the other end of the couch, leaving an empty cushion between them. The only light in the room came from the lights in the yard coming in through the sunroom, leaving them in semi-darkness. Donny turned on the lamp to the lowest setting, and Tyler blinked several times.

“Where’s your brother?”

“Asleep.”

Tyler nodded. “So, does he know you’re gay?”

Donny looked sharply at the boy. Tyler’s expression was unchanged, but there was an edge to it, almost a smirk. “Yeah,” Donny replied cautiously, “of course.”

Tyler nodded. “Yeah, I kinda figured, you being twins and all.” He absently drew a line down his thigh with his index finger, then looked at Donny again. “’Course, I knew, too.”

Donny shrugged. “It’s no big secret. Not like I’m in the closet.”

Tyler shook his head and smirked. “Yeah, and I pretty much had you pegged when you showed up at Mike’s house for Thanksgiving, ‘cause we all know about him, too.” Donny glared at him, and Tyler held up his hand. “Hey, it’s cool. I mean…” Once again he drew his finger up his thigh, this time resting his hand on his crotch. He looked at Donny and grinned broadly. That said it all, and in an instant Donny got up from the couch and didn’t know where to go. He looked at Tyler again, who had now spread his legs, his hand on the pouch of his briefs, slowly massaging it. Donny paced over to the sliding patio door, staring intently through the glass out to the pool. “Eric told me you came on to him.”

“Yeah, he’s hot, isn’t he? Ever do him?”

“No,” replied, Donny, not turning around.

“You know how I got the money to come out here?”

“Danny said you saved up your birthday money and stuff.”

Tyler chuckled. “Yeah, that’s what I tell people. I earned it. You wanna know how I really got it?”

“Not really.”

“Guys pay to suck me off,” Tyler continued as if he hadn’t heard. “First time it happened I was in a store in the mall. I went into the GNC looking for vitamins and this guy was telling me what to take and stuff, and then he says he’s got some other stuff in the back room. So he takes me in there and says he’ll give me twenty bucks if he can do me. He was about your age; big like you. So I let him, and then he says he’s got some friends, and…” Tyler grinned slyly. “They’re all straight – so they say – but they like young dick.”

Donny did not move; he felt frozen in place. “Why are you telling me this?”

Tyler shifted a little on the couch, leaning back, stretching his body. “Well, I thought…”

“No way,” Donny said firmly.

Tyler sat up. “All right, that’s cool.”

For a moment Donny stared into the dim light of the lamp. Neither of them moved, and then Tyler got off the couch and started to go back to his room. Donny said, “Is that why you took off? Your parents found out?”

Tyler snorted. “Fuck no. If they knew…. No, I just had to get outta that place. I hate it there with all their church bullshit and holy rolling. They’re all so fuckin’ boring, and….” He leaned against the wall. “I just had to leave.”

“Are you gay?” Donny asked.

“What difference does that make?” He looked at Donny, his expression softening a little. “Straight or not, my folks’d kill me if they knew.”

“So why me? Why here? You didn’t think I’d call your folks the minute you showed up here?”

Tyler shrugged and blinked a couple of times. “I thought you’d know what I was going through. I thought you might…understand.”

For a moment Donny almost believed him, and then he smiled wanly and shook his head. “Nice try, kiddo. I’m not buying it. You probably thought you could sponge off me, maybe even try to blackmail me into not calling your folks because you would tell them that I tried to seduce you or something, and then… well, I don’t know what you’d try next, and neither do you. All you thought about was getting out here.” Tyler gave him a wicked grin, his expression completely devoid of his boyish innocence, and Donny had a flashback to his last encounter with Jeremy Dixon. “Tomorrow you’re getting on that plane, and you can sell your story to your folks. And to be perfectly honest, Ty, I don’t care if you tell them I fucked your brains out. They’ll know who to believe.”

Tyler gave him an icy scowl and went back to his room, slamming the door. Donny let out a long breath, and then went to the front door to make sure the alarm was set from the inside so that any opening of a door or window would set it off, just in case Tyler got the idea he could run away again. But the rest of the night passed in silence, and at six-thirty when Donny rapped on the guest room door, Tyler responded with a polite “Come in.” He was dressed in his TBCA t-shirt, clean jeans, and he had his parka out ready to put on when he got back to cold weather.

“Breakfast in a few,” Donny said curtly.

“Okay. Listen, sorry about last night.”

Donny shook his head. “Yeah, okay. Get your stuff out to the car. Traffic’s gonna be hell getting to the airport.”

The ride to the airport was silent, the morning rush hour slowing to a crawl in some places, but they got to the airport and parked with time to spare. Danny, in his blue Air Force uniform, hefted Tyler’s suitcase and strode ahead of them into the terminal. By the time they caught up with him, he was already at the ticket counter, and Donny saw him pull out his wallet with his military ID. The ticket agent was nodding, and then she pointed in the direction of the concourse. Danny stood up at attention for a second, said a curt “Thank you, ma’am,” and then led Donny and Tyler along the concourse to the security area.

“All right, here’s the deal. I convinced the airline to take Tyler as an unaccompanied minor, and I got permission for us to escort him to the gate and make sure he gets on the plane.” He showed Tyler his ticket and boarding pass. “Once you’re in Chicago, the airline will escort you to the connecting flight to Traverse City. Once you’re there, you’re in the hands of your parents. You got that?” Tyler nodded sullenly. “All right. Forward march.”

The ticket agent had contacted airport security, and once they showed their ID’s and Tyler’s boarding pass, they were passed through the metal detectors without any questions. When they got to the gate, Danny presented the boarding pass to the agent.

Donny had been watching Tyler the whole time. He looked tired and resigned to his fate, and as they waited for the boarding to begin, he slumped in his seat, his long legs sticking out into the aisle, tapping the toes of his large white basketball sneakers absent-mindedly.

The agent opened the boarding gate and Tyler got up. “Well,” he said softly, “I guess this is it.” He put out his hand to Donny. “Thanks. I’m…sorry. I didn’t mean…”

“Tell it to your parents,” Donny interrupted. “They’re the ones you need to talk to.”

Tyler shuddered a little, then shuffled to the gate.

“Good luck,” said Danny.

Tyler lifted his hand in a half-hearted wave and gave his ticket to the agent. Another agent, a tall man with a serious expression, escorted Tyler down the jet bridge, and the last Donny saw of him was as he gave a quick glance and a grin back at him as he made the turn to get on the plane.

They waited until the door was closed and the jet bridge was pulled back.

“Good luck, kid,” Danny repeated. “You’re gonna need it.”

Danny dropped Donny off at the office, telling him to call him when he was ready to be picked up. Donny called Dr. Herlinger and told him what flights Tyler was on. After he hung up he thought about telling Marc about Tyler, but Marc was buried in getting ready for year-end, and Donny had enough work to occupy him. It wasn’t until he took a quick lunch break with Eric at two that he thought of Tyler again, and only because Eric asked him if he’d gotten him to the airport.

Donny called Danny at six, telling him to come get him, and they had cold roast beef leftovers for dinner. They were finishing off the last of the pie when the phone rang.

“Hello?”

“Don? It’s Clark Herlinger.”

“Oh, hi,” Donny replied, looking at his watch. It was almost eight-thirty; plenty of time for Tyler to have gotten home. “Tyler get there okay?”

“Well, that’s why I’m calling,” Clark replied, his voice sounding tight and on the verge of panic. “What flight did you say he was supposed to be on?”

Small Town Boys - Chapter 50

Chapter Guide

Christmas Presence

“Trish Owens on Line 1.”

Donny picked up the phone, holding up his hand to Rudy, who was in the middle of explaining why all the security protocols in Pelican would have to be rewritten. It was a little after ten the next morning.

“Nice to finally talk to you. Lunch?”

“It’ll have to be quick,” he replied.

“I’ll brown-bag something. See you around noon.”

Trish’s idea of “brown-bagging” turned out to be avocado and bean sprout sandwiches on whole wheat bread, a side of cole slaw each, and bottles of Orangina from the local natural foods store. They sat at Donny’s conference table, shoving aside the stacks of papers and binders. By the time Donny had finished his first half of his sandwich he had told her about his meetings with Eric and Gina.

“Christ,” Trish said, wiping her hands on one of the brown-paper napkins from the bag, “this is what you get for going out of town for a week. Do you ever check your cell phone for messages?”

“What?”

Trish held out her hand. “Gimme your cell phone.” Donny handed it to her. She glanced at it and pushed a few buttons. “What’s your password?”

“1-9-7-0”

She keyed it in. A tinny little voice said, “You have four new messages. To listen to your messages, press 7.” Trish played them back; they were all from her, all increasing in urgency, asking him to call her. She erased them, handed the phone back to Donny, and glared at him. “For someone who works in the computer business, you’re a fucking idiot.”

“I don’t get it. When did you call?”

“The day after Thanksgiving, then the next day and the next. I thought you were avoiding me. See that little envelope icon? That means ‘you’ve got mail.’” Donny looked at the little screen on the cell phone. He had never paid attention to it before. “I set the ringer so that it goes off when you get a message.” She shook her head.

“So why were you calling me?”

“Because I was trying to tell you that I am the producer of Small Town Boys.”

While Donny gaped at her, she explained that Jack had wanted to appoint one of this regular producers to oversee the project, but they were either all too busy with other things or weren’t interested. Trish had volunteered, and over the last two weeks she had secured commitments from several other backers and had begun laying the groundwork with a studio and several casting directors. “I’ve been doing this out of Jack’s office, but it’s all the way downtown. I’ve been thinking about renting a small space closer to home.” She looked at him and raised an eyebrow.

“Here?” Donny said. “We don’t have any empty spaces, and besides, I don’t think it’d be all that good an idea to mix my moonlighting with my real job.”

Trish shrugged. “Well, then, how about that little office you’ve set up in your house? All I need is a desk and a phone, and besides, you could probably write it off on your taxes as a business expense. And it’s perfectly located; it’s half-way between my place and downtown and I don’t have to fight the traffic. Oh, and the production company will pay rent, too. So you actually will make something off it besides what you’ll be making as the executive producer.”

“Is this how it works?”

“Are you kidding? Some of the best movies in Hollywood have been produced out of someone’s empty bedroom. Oh, we need to come up with a name.”

“A name?”

“For the production company.”

“I thought it was Magahee Associates.”

Trish shook her head. “No, Jack’s company never appears on the production credits. Every project gets set up as a corporation for the purposes of making the project. That makes it separate from the main corporation and shields them – and you – from personal liability. That way if anyone sues you, you’re not personally on the hook. Once the production is finished, the corporation is liquidated. That’s why you see all those cute little names at the end of a TV show or the beginning of a movie; ‘Birdbath Productions,’ or ‘The Samantha Corporation,’ named after the executive producer’s kid or their cat. So whaddaya want to call it?”

Donny shrugged. “You can call it ‘Old Potato Productions,’ for all I care.”

Trish chuckled. “I think we can do better than that.” She finished her sandwich. “Well, okay, then. I’ll call the phone company and get a line set up, and I’ll stop by your place after work and drop some stuff off.”

“I’m probably going to be working late, and then I’m going to the gym. But Mike’ll be there.”

Trish’s eyes widened. “Mike’s living with you?”

“Just until his condo’s ready. Then Danny’ll be back for Christmas in a couple of weeks.”

“Your brother in the Air Force?”

“Yeah. He’s got a little leave; gonna come in and pick up his Jeep.” Trish started to gather up the remains of the lunch. “So,” Donny asked, “if you’re doing all the producing work and hiring all the people, what exactly is my job as executive producer?”

“Well, you’ll see. It’s more like an honorary position, but you do have some power; f’r instance, you can fire people. Of course, you won’t do that unless we – the rest of the producers and the director and everybody else – think you should. But you’re the one who gets to do it. And you’ll make a lot of money.” She hitched her purse over her shoulder and grinned. “Not to worry, Donny. We’ll go over it all.” She held out her hand. Donny, unsure what she meant, shook it tentatively. Trish laughed. “Okay, if that means we’re formally in business, fine, but what I really need is the spare key to the house and the alarm code.”

Donny went back to work, and it wasn’t until he was pulling in the driveway after going to the gym that he remembered his lunch with Trish; her car and another behind it were parked out front. It was a little after eight, long past sunset, and the Christmas lights on the house down the street were lit. Even after all this time, it still seemed funny to him to see twinkling lights in a palm tree. Mike’s Range Rover was not there.

A long phone extension cord ran from the table in the living room into the office, and Trish was on the phone. Another woman was with her, standing next to the desk and writing things down on a pad. Trish nodded at him and ended the call. “Hi honey, how was work?” she said with a giggle. Donny played along. “Fine; where’s my dinner?” he replied, and they all laughed. Trish introduced him to Wanda. “She’s on loan from Jack. She’s going to be the production associate, which means she will be the one who really does all the work around here.” They shook hands. Wanda was an attractive Latina with large brown eyes, a nice smile, and as they exchanged pleasantries, Donny learned that she had worked for some very big names in the industry. He was impressed that she would take a job on such a small production, and said so.

Wanda smiled and nodded. “There are no small productions; just short pay.”

Trish got up from the desk. “The phone company will be here tomorrow to install the two extra lines, and we’re having another desk and stuff sent over from Jack’s so Wanda will have a place to work.” She pointed at the empty corner. “Should fit there, don’t you think?”

“You got the phone company to come tomorrow?” said Donny with amazement. “It took us a week to get them to set up an appointment for us.”

Wanda smiled knowingly. “I know people,” she said.

Trish nodded. “She does. Anyway, we’re off to take care of some stuff, but we’ll be back first thing in the morning. What time do you leave for the office?”

“’Round seven-thirty,” Donny said. “Say, has Mike shown up?”

“No, but he called about ten minutes ago,” Trish said. “Kinda surprised him when I answered. He said he was going out to meet with some people and wouldn’t be home ‘til late. Hope you don’t mind me answering, but I was expecting a call.”

Donny shrugged.

“Oh, and just so you know, I’m meeting with Aaron tomorrow to interview some writers. Be nice if you could join us.”

“Writers?”

“Yeah. Just to polish up your script and make it film-ready, and besides, if it becomes a series, you can’t be expected to write every episode.”

“When?”

“I’ll let you know.”

“It’ll have to be after work and after the gym if you want me there.”

Mike came home around ten. Donny was already in bed, on the verge of sleep, when he heard the back door open and Mike’s “whoops” as he caught his foot on the phone cord. Donny opened his bedroom door and blinked in the bright light in the hall.

“Hey,” said Mike. He looked a little glassy-eyed but not falling-down drunk. “So what’s up with…?” He indicated the office.

“Trish is setting up a production office here. She’s the real producer for the project.”

“Cool,” Mike murmured. “Makes it easy for you, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah, since I’m ass-deep at work.”

“Hope she’s better than the idiot Paul hired for Back Home Again. Which, by the way, will be on in two weeks.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“There’s talk of making it a series if it does well. Jason’s really pushing that.”

“Would you do it?”

“Sure, why not?”

“Well, I thought you were tired of ‘that shit.’”

“Work’s work.” Mike turned on the light in the guest room and clumsily kicked off his shoes.

“So, how’s it going?” Donny ventured. He really hadn’t spoken much to Mike in the last couple of days.

“’S’kay. Lotsa stuff out there, all I gotta do is … y’know….” He tugged off his shirt and tossed it on the bed. “Meeting tomorrow with some more people. Casting directors and shit. By the way, haven’t heard from your people yet.”

“I’ll tell Trish.”

Mike undid his belt and carefully pulled off his pants. “By the way,” he said again, “when does Danny get here?”

“Right before Christmas; why?”

“Just want to know when I need to get outta here. If there’s nothing shakin’ after Back Home Again goes on, I might just take off for Idyll-weird and stay there.” He waved at the bed. “Unless you get another bed in here, ‘cause much as it would be fun, I don’t think Danny’ll want to sleep with me.”

“No, I don’t think you’d be his first choice,” Donny replied. “Well, you’re welcome to stay here as long as you like.” He looked at Mike, standing there in his underwear, and in spite of his slightly inebriated state, his tousled hair, and the fact that he might be hiring him to work on his project, he felt the warmth growing in his chest, leading down to his groin. “G’night,” he said and went back to his room. “G’night,” Mike replied distantly.

*

Donny’s days at work became twelve to fourteen hours long, and Friday, the day of the board meeting, he left the house at six-thirty to help collate the preliminary presentation on Starship Enterprise, finally wrapping it up at ten-thirty that night. Other than the little reminders of something else going on in his house when he was gone – a Dunkin Donuts bag in the trash in the kitchen, the door to the office slightly ajar – it was like there was nothing else going on except dizzying long hours working with Rudy, Eric, Ellie, and the three new “code talkers,” as Eric called them. Donny barely remembered their names; they spent all their days in the war room with Steve and Brany. Marc spent most of the days working on the finances element with Cathy. Donny hardly had a chance to even say hello to him, and the brief “look, um…” was forgotten.

The only pause came on the Saturday night before Back Home Again was shown. Paul had gotten a video of it and invited Donny, Eric, Mike, Aaron, and some other people – twenty in all – to watch it on his big-screen TV. Cocktails and snacks were served in the living room, and Donny garnered some attention as the executive producer of, as someone called it, “the next big thing.”

Paul herded them into the little theatre and dimmed the lights. The score, a solo piano variation on “Simple Gifts” and “Back Home Again in Indiana,” led to an establishing shot of a bucolic view of a farm and a wheat field, and the title, in simple script, faded in. The audience applauded politely, and since Jeremy Dixon was not there, when his name appeared in the credits, someone in the room chuckled ruefully. Donny couldn’t see who it was. When the writing credits rolled, it said “Screenplay by Aaron White,” which got a smattering of applause, as did the producing credit for “Eric McKay.” He was sitting next to Donny, and he whispered, “I’d like to thank the Academy….”

Donny watched the film with a new-found critical eye, having read the script as it was being filmed. It was pretty much as he remembered it, but Aaron, who was sitting behind him, kept whispering to himself and scratching notes on a copy of the script. At one point both Jeremy and Mike appeared shirtless as they baled hay with their father, their muscles highlighted by the sweat and dirt, and this got an appreciative murmur from the audience. Mike, who was sitting next to Donny, chuckled self-consciously and slumped a little in his seat.

As the final credits rolled over the freeze-frame of the brothers hugging each other in the “snow” in front of the family home at Christmas, the audience applauded long and loudly. Paul stood up and beckoned to Mike, Aaron, and Milo to come forward and take their bows, and they did, Aaron nearly tripping over his feet as he walked down the aisle. The audience rose to their feet and gave them a standing ovation.

As they were getting ready to leave, Aaron came up to Donny and nervously plucked at his sleeve. “I’ve, uh, I’ve been talking to, uh, Trish, and she wants me to meet with you as soon as possible. About the writer.”

“Okay,” replied Donny. “I’m really in the weeds at the office, but I think lunch or something sometime.”

“We’ll call you,” replied Aaron, adjusting his glasses.

“Hey, good job on this,” said Donny, nodding at the theatre. “Turned out great.”

Aaron shrugged. “Oh, well, you know… good people and all that.”

Donny looked around to see if anyone was in earshot. “And you were right about Mike,” he said quietly. “He blew Jeremy off the screen, so to speak.”

Aaron nodded tightly. “Right. Is he going to be in yours?”

“Don’t know yet. The casting people haven’t gotten back to us,” he replied, slipping into the plural and suddenly conscious of it. “We should know in a couple of days. Trish’ll let you know, I guess.”

Aaron nodded again. “You’ll like the writer I’m lining up.”

“Tell me again why you’re not working on it?”

Aaron gulped and smiled mechanically. “Well, I don’t really have a whole lot of insight to the kind of things… the world… you’re writing about. I suppose I could, y’know, fake it, but I think what it needs is… well, the real touch, that’s all.”

“You didn’t know a whole hell of a lot about growing up on a farm in Indiana, either.”

Aaron nodded as if he hadn’t heard that and went to get his coat.

Mike came over to Donny. “Hey, you think you can snag a ride with Donny or someone? I’m gonna hang out here for a while, y’know… touch base.” He nodded in the direction of Paul and some of the other producers.

“Sure, no prob,” Donny replied.

It wasn’t too far out of the way for Eric to drop him off and then head back to Greg’s. “That was pretty good,” said Eric, talking about the movie. “So, is Mike gonna be in your project?”

“Don’t know yet. He might be.”

“So that’s why he’s sleeping in the guest room?”

Donny looked at Eric, who was grinning broadly. “That was subtle,” he deadpanned.

“Well, hell, Donny, I figure the only reason you’re not sleeping with him is because he might end up working for you. Make things awkward, y’know, in case you have to fire him or something.”

“That’s not it.” Or was it? Donny wondered to himself.

“I just wondered, ‘cause, y’know, you flew across country at the drop of a hat and then drove all the way back with him.” They came to red light and Eric looked at him. “C’mon, Donny, what’s up with you two?”

“What’s it to you?” he replied genially.

Eric tapped his thumbs on the wheel. “Well, maybe I want to invest in your little project, too. Maybe I want to be sure that I’m not betting on a bad deal.” The light changed. “And maybe I just want to know if you’re getting laid on a regular basis.”

“You serious?”

“About which, the investing or getting laid?”

“Investing, you horn dog.”

“Yeah, I might be. That Magahee guy called me while you were out of town, told me to talk to you or Trish about it. She’s, what, the producer now?”

“Yeah. She’s also Jack’s niece.”

Eric chuckled. “Damn, this town. Fucking incestuous.”

“So you think you will?”

“I might buy a share or two. Bart Blumberg called the other day about something else and managed to let me know that Jim McGruder was going in on it. But you knew that, right?”

“Right,” replied Donny. He made a mental note to ask Trish the names of all the investors.

They got to Donny’s house a little before eleven. They went out to the pool and Eric pulled a small joint out of his pocket. The pot smelled good in the cool night air. “So,” Eric said as he took a short toke, “tell me about your trip.”

Donny told him everything, even down to describing what they had for dinner at the Mexican restaurant in Perrysburg, and Eric listened attentively. When he was done, he lit a cigarette, the tobacco a harsh taste compared to Sky’s golden leaf.

“Wow,” said Eric. “His dad, your dad, Scott…. Hell of a week.”

“Yep.”

“So, you think you’ve got his dad’s blessing to marry him?”

Donny snorted a little. “Naw. Just be his friend …”

They lapsed into silence. Finally Eric said, “You love him, though, don’tcha?”

Donny thought for a while. “Guess so.”

Eric nodded. “That’s good. We all need that.”

“What about you?”

“Me?”

“Yeah, Eric, you. You need somebody to love.”

Eric smirked. “Thank you, Jefferson Airplane.”

“I mean it.”

“I’m good. I got my…”

“Your what?”

He held up his hand. Donny snorted. “Not good enough.”

Eric leaned back in his chair and stared up into the night sky. “Yeah, well, until we get this ERP thing launched and until you get your…”

“My what?”

“…movie done, I guess neither of us is gonna get any action.” He slowly sat up. “Okay, I’m tired, so…I guess I’d better get going.”

“You okay to drive?”

“Oh, sure. I had one drink at Paul’s and a joint here. I’m fine.”

They walked together slowly out to the garage door, and in the darkness Eric gave Donny a hug, lightly brushing his groin against his thigh. It was hard. Eric grinned a little, waved, got in his Suburban, and was gone before Donny had the door closed.

Mike came home a little after midnight and was gone the next morning before Donny got up, leaving a note that said “Breakfast mtg w/ Jason C-ya.” The entertainment section of the Sunday Times had a picture and a blurb about Back Home Again, and the pre-review called it a “potential holiday classic.”

*

That was the last weekend of relative calm. Donny hardly saw Mike the next week. Back Home Again had won the time slot and Jason was sending him a ton of scripts, so he was out at casting interviews and meetings nearly every day. Donny hardly noticed, though; the war room became his second home, and he got used to getting up in the dark and coming home after ten. He remembered ruefully the cold January mornings working for Frank where he would be driving across the frozen fields to a jobsite, the heater in his truck droning at full blast, the radio weatherman cheerfully talking about highs in the mid-twenties and snow flurries. At least, he thought, here in California it’s warmer than that in the pre-dawn darkness.

It was suddenly Friday, December 23. Danny’s plane arrived at noon, the holiday rush traffic clogging the approach to the arrivals level so that Donny had to wave and honk at his brother who was standing at nearly attention next to the Super Shuttle with his green duffel bag at his feet.

He had gotten his hair cut very short and it looked as if he had bulked up, his shoulders bulging out of his dark blue sweater. They hugged each other powerfully, then Donny tossed the duffel into the way-back.

“Damn, you’re almost as big as me,” Donny said, admiring his brother’s arms.

“Whaddaya mean, almost? I’m benchin’ 225 now.”

Donny grinned. “Two-forty.”

“Shit. I’ll catch up.”

They went back to the office and everyone came out to greet Danny; Ellie gave him a lingering hug, which Donny noticed with interest. Marc shook his hand and smiled, asking how things were going, and Danny nodded and said things were good. He was introduced to the new people, including Rudy, who seemed fascinated by the idea of identical twins; Donny noticed that he was looking closely at each of them in turn as if he was trying to discern the difference between them on a molecular level.

They had arrived just in time for the informal potluck that Irene, Lily and Cathy had put together, and for the first time in three weeks they all sat together and listened to music, ate, and talked about nothing that had anything to do with work. Danny deflected all questions about his duty with a modest “just your average duty assignments for a junior grade Air Force officer,” and let it go at that.

They closed the office early, everybody lugging leftovers out to their cars. Donny asked Marc when he was going to Santa Barbara with the intention of inviting him for dinner that night, but Marc said he was leaving that afternoon, but thanks. “I’ll call you when I get back on Tuesday,” he said. “Good to see you, Dan.”

“You too,” Danny replied. After Marc had left Donny’s office, he said, “What’s up with him? He’s barely said two words since I got here. Still freaked about Jeremy?”

Donny shook his head. “Nah, I don’t think so. We’ve been slammed since this whole Starship Enterprise thing started, and most of it’s on him. And me.”

“Huh. Come up with a better name than ‘Starship Enterprise’ yet?”

“Nope. Nominations are still being accepted, and the winner gets a free ham.” Eric rapped on the door jamb. “We still on for twins day out on Monday?”

“Sure. Whatcha got planned?”

“Beach if it’s nice, wing it if it’s not,” Eric replied breezily. “I’ll call you. Good to see you, Dan.”

“You too.”

Donny was going through his mail. He came across a handwritten card-sized envelope. The return address was a post office box in Maple City. He slit it open. Inside was a Hallmark Christmas card with the nativity scene from, a folded note, and several photographs. It was from Tyler.

Dear Don: Thanks for the advice on weightlifting. I’ve started the program you showed me and it’s helping. Here are some pics of me. Merry Christmas see you soon, Your friend, Tyler.

The pictures were Polaroids of Tyler, trying to strike a muscle-flexing pose. He was standing in front of what appeared to be a bookshelf in his wood-paneled bedroom, his shirt off, his long basketball shorts hanging on his narrow hips, the cuffs below his knees, the flash washing out his skin to a pale pink with little contrast and giving him a bad case of red-eye. He was awkwardly flexing his right biceps, making little more than a slight swelling, his fist balled up like a knot, the hair in his armpit barely more than light fuzz. The other picture was from a slightly different angle, trying to pump up his chest, his eyes looking away from the camera, a study in adolescent awkwardness. Donny showed them to his twin.

“This the kid you told me about? What is he, fifteen?”

“Something like that.”

“Gotta start somewhere.”

“Were we ever that scrawny?” Donny asked.

“You were, twin. Not me.”

They drove home, the traffic thick with last-minute shoppers. Mike’s truck was in the driveway. The reunion was quick; Jason had gotten Mike an interview with the casting director for the Emmerich/Devlin sci-fi movie as a last-minute replacement for one of the second-tier stars playing an Air Force officer, and he was in Palm Springs for the holidays. “So, I’m heading out there right now,” he said as he stuffed his suitcase. “Perfect timing for you, Dan; you get the bedroom all to yourself.”

“For once,” Danny replied. “If you get the part, let me know and I’ll tell you what the script got wrong.”

“It’s a deal.” He zipped up his bag. “Well, I’ll see ya.”

“Where are you spending Christmas?” Donny asked.

Mike smirked. “At the Villa. I hear they have a hell of a Christmas buffet.”

Donny handed him a small package. “Merry Christmas.”

Mike hugged him. “Yours is on the couch, since you didn’t bother to set up a tree or anything.”

Donny shrugged. “What’s the point? It’s not like when we were kids and my mom and dad went completely nuts over the holidays, putting up wreaths and lights and roping and making Toledo Edison rich.”

Donny showed Danny the office, the two desks side by side, the floor stacked neatly with cardboard boxes serving as makeshift filing cabinets. Trish and Wanda had left before they had gotten home, but there was a stack of resumes and headshots that bore a pink Post-It that said “Plz revue thx T.O. Merry Xmas See you Tue.” “Hooray for Hollywood,” Danny said.

They spent Christmas Eve day getting the Jeep running, changing the oil and rotating the tires, going to the gym, and relaxing by the pool. Donny started to ask his brother what he was doing now, but Danny held up his hand and said, “Twin, I can’t talk about it, and I have to report any questions anyone asks me about it, so get me another beer and shut up.”

They had Christmas Eve dinner with their Aunt Barbara and Uncle Ron in Whittier, and Ron, who had served in the Navy, knew what Danny was talking about when he said he was under strict orders. “Say no more.” They called their parents on the speakerphone in the den before it got too late, their voices sounding hollow and tinny.

Christmas Day was quiet. They slept in, opened their presents, taking turns in the family tradition. Donny got Danny a portable CD player that would fit in his BOQ bookshelf and a laptop computer. “You can get e-mail,” Donny said. “I called Colonel Brownwen, your old commanding officer, and checked.”

Danny handed his brother a small box. “Not a computer or even a microchip.” Donny opened it. It was a signet ring with DFH on it. Inside it was inscribed Together Forever. “Yeah,” shrugged Danny, “it’s corny, but it fits. You shoulda seen the look the jeweler gave me when I told him what to put on it. I had to show him our picture to reassure him that he wasn’t asking and I wasn’t telling.” The ring fit perfectly. “Well, it should. I had ‘em size it to my Academy ring.” Danny glanced at his new stereo and laptop, “Look, I know…” but Donny cut him off, knowing what he was going to say.

“Forget it,” he said, looking at the ring. “Based on our comparative incomes, you spent more than I did.” He hugged his twin tightly, tears prickling his eyes.

Their parents called at ten, and the twins assured them that the shirts and sweaters fit fine and thanks again for the traditional stocking-stuffers – candies, little toys, and funny pictures – had arrived safely. They thanked him for the dozen grapefruit and the avocados, and said they were going to have a great feast that night.

Donny had planned to make a roast for their Christmas dinner; it was easy to do and he could watch the football game that afternoon while it cooked. He was in the kitchen getting it ready when the phone rang. He grabbed it, thinking it was his mom calling about something she’d forgotten to say. “H’lo,” he said tersely.

“Uh, is this Don? Don Hollenbeck?” said a young voice.

“Yeah, who’s this?”

“Ty. Tyler Herlinger. From Thanksgiving…?”

“Oh, yeah, hi. Hey, thanks for your card.”

“Sure. Um, merry Christmas.” Tyler’s voice sounded hollow and distant, and there was a lot of background noise, like he was calling from a shopping mall.

“Same to you. How’s things up there in Michigan?”

“Um, okay, I guess. But… I’m not there.”

“No? Where are you?”

“At the airport.”

“The airport? Which one?”

“The one here. In Los Angeles.”

“Oh, you and your folks out here for Christmas?”

“Uh, no. I…I’m here by myself.”

“Yourself?”

“Yeah.” There was a long pause, and then Tyler said, “I ran away.”