The Chrysalis

Chrysalis Part 3-Chapter 15

This story is about a young man's quest to fix a major birth defect--he was born without a penis. On his quest he meets challenges, his soul mate and many other soon to be friends.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, and events are the product of the author's imagination, or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to any real person is coincidental.

The story depicts procedures and practices common for gender reassignment; however, this story does not claim to be a medical treatise, and information is primarily for the purpose of the story and not medical advice. This story is written for adults with adult themes. If you are underage or live in a location where references to gay relationships or transgender people is forbidden, please log out of the story or move.

This work is copyrighted by Boethiuscell@gmail.com © 2023

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Chapter 15--Smashing

Chris woke with Owen having an argument with Beach over the coffee maker. He laughed and snuggled back into Tom. Tom rolled over, throwing a leg over Chris. "You're not going anywhere. We can settle the turf battles later. Chris hummed a yes and fell back to sleep. Chris woke again when Tom dragged himself out of bed. Chris looked at the clock. It was after 8:30. He heard Tom in the shower and decided to join him. When they came out two hot cups of coffee were on the bathroom vanity. At first Chris was perturbed that Owen would walk into their bathroom unannounced and uninvited. But then he laughed, which caused Tom to look at him. Owen was only doing his job. And the coffee was good. Better than Beach's.

Dressed Tom and Chris went into the kitchen area to see Owen busy making pancakes. "There are no fresh fruit or vegetables, so you are getting pancakes."

"Make a list and tell Beach. He will order it ,and it will be here within two hours." Tom said as he sat on a stool at the kitchen island.

"Yes, Beach and I have had a set to this morning. I think I have straightened things out."

"Yes, we need to program you into the system." Owen poured Chris a fresh cup of coffee. "Beach, program change. The third person in this room is Owen. He is our valet and personal assistant. He has level 2 authority. You will follow his directions as you would Tom or me." Chris winked at Owen, who stood still like the place might explode

"Very good sir, I apologize for not being aware of his position in the household when I confronted him this morning. It will not happen again."

"There Owen. You have control of most functions in this house and in L.A.. Beach thinks they are one location. He can do anything that requires Internet access of the physical functions of the house, like lights."

"Beach play easy jazz in the kitchen and living room only." Jazz began to play softly.

"So cool. Is there a manual?"

"Yes and no. Beech has proven to be adaptive, so initial directions have expanded beyond the manual. Just ask him, and he will say if he can do it or not." Owen flipped the pancakes and pulled jelly from the fridge. "Try it Owen. Always start with Beach."

"Beach." Owen looked around the room. "Turn the living room fireplace on." The fireplace roared to life. "Beach, turn the fireplace to low." The flame reduced to a moderate flame. "This will be fun." Owen plated the pancakes for Tom and Chris.

"Where are yours?" Tom asked.

"Help does not eat with the family."

"Unless we are formally entertaining, you will eat with us. Now grab a plate and sit." The pancakes were delicious.

"We need to buy Christmas decorations for this place." Chris bounced off his stool. I know we will not be here for Christmas, but you can be sure people will be stopping by. I'll call Chaz and see if he wants to help. Boyd's working. We can see C.T. too." Chris sent a text to Chaz, who replied almost immediately with Chaz being eager to shop, like usual.

"Chaz will be here in an hour with C.T." Chris said.

"Owen," Tom looked at Owen who was suddenly worried.

"I'm uncomfortable, and I know Chris is too about saying your work position is manservant or valet. Both are thought pretentious in the States. And that is limiting on what we need you to do for us. I think the title of Personal Assistant is more appropriate. We will want you to screen correspondence, emails, and social media for us. Arrange meetings, take minutes at meetings, and other duties besides laying our clothes and cooking. We need help managing our commitment, particularly since we have Thistledown too."

Owen was silent, looking from Chris to Tom. "I have only served as a servant. Helping dress and managing the house, but it is very appealing because I will learn much more about the world. I am worried that I do not know enough to be of help."

"Pull out your cell phone." Tom said. "I am going to program a few apps into it and connect you to our calendars, both personal and professional. This will give you an idea of what is planned. Look it over, and we will discuss how you can be of assistance." Tom handed the phone back to Owen.

"Sirs, Juan and Zack are at the door." Owen looked at Tom, who nodded to answer it.

"Hey guys, welcome back. Heard you're going Christmas decoration shopping. Do you mind if we tag along." Juan said as he walked into the kitchen area and hugged Chris and then Tom. Zack did the same.

Zack looked at Owen, who stood silent in the kitchen. "And who might this young man be?"

"This is Owen, our personal assistant. He worked for Tom's Grandda, but Grandda thought it would be best if Owen experienced more of the world than north west England."

"Hey, Owen." Juan said and then offered a hand. "God knows these two need a handler."

"Thank you Sir."

"What the shit with the sir. It's Juan and Zack. You may work for these doofuses, but that does not mean we can't be friends too." Zack held out his hand for a shaking. "Do you have coffee? And are those pancakes I see?" Owen poured everybody coffee and set out plates for the pancakes. He had batter left so he made more.

Chaz walked in just as Beach announced him with little C. T. in a chest sling, sound asleep. "Hey Chris, Tom, so glad to have you back. When babes is asleep, nothing disturbs him. No need to whisper." He looked at Owen, who introduced himself. "Good, you got yourself help. The way you two bounce around, you need someone who can manage the day to day." Owen poured Chaz a cup of coffee; Chaz added his own cream. "Thought we'd start at JJ Christmas."

"Chaz, while you're here. We were thinking of turning the storage room into a bedroom for Owen. Do you see any problems?"

"None, just the Co-op, but Chris has them wrapped around his finger. Add a door, which is already under consideration in the hallway to your room. You can tie his bathroom into yours; they would share a wall, so plumbing is easy. Put in a closet and find a place to store what is in there, which should be easy."

"Any zoning issues?"

"Doubt it Tom, but I will check. If you want I can have a contractor stop by and give an estimate. Whole job should easily be done for less than fifty grand."

"Thanks Chaz." Chris looked at Owen, who was not sure about how he should react. "Owen is going to be with us until we return to England for our nuptials. He is staying there until he finishes his schooling, which would be mid-March. No urgency, we have some time. I am also having my surgery, finally, after the first of the year. It will be in L.A., so I will recuperate there."

"Are you guys coming to our nuptials in England?" Tom asked.

"Already have tickets for Boyd and me." Chaz said. "I'm making it a business buying trip, so I will be staying until after the first of the year. Boyd needs to be back for work then."

"What about C.T?" Chris asked. "He is too young to travel that far."

"He will be old enough, but our pediatrician recommends we wait until his immune system is stronger. Boyd's parents will look after him."

"Don't you want to see his first Christmas?" Zack asked.

"He will be two months old. What will he remember? Now next year is different." Chaz grabbed Boyd's arm. "Enough chit chat; let's shop."

They had a blast shopping. They stopped for lunch at Stella and Stan's, who made a fuss over Owen, loving his accent and of course C. T. Then Chaz and Boyd went to their house since C. T. was starting to fuss. Back home, Zack told how he was moved from the corps to a principal dancer and was doing all the shows this season. He had arranged to be off from December 25 through December 30, and he and Juan would be in England for the nuptials. Chris was thrilled. Tom's side of the family were sure to be there, so having Chris's friends would make the event even more less foreign. Zack and Juan needed to leave to meet Zack's mother for dinner. Chris told Zack to tell Cordelia hi.

"You have very nice friends," Owen said as Zack and Juan left. Chris readily agreed. He was truly lucky. They just settled in when Matias and Dan popped in, closely followed by Liam. They had been there only thirty minutes when Harold and Louisa stopped by to say hi. They had returned Sunday from L.A. after visiting their son, his husband and their grandchild. Louisa had a ton of baby pictures. Chris requested a co-op meeting soon to discuss some changes to his unit. After a brief summary of the plan, no one thought that it would be a problem, since it was with the owner's unit and would impact no one else. Once everybody left, Chris ordered pizza, a treat Owen had only twice. After supper Chet and Hector stopped by and then Slim and Zoe. By 10 Chris was ready to kick everyone out because he barely could keep his eyes open, but they took the hint of his yawn and departed with the promise to see him Friday at Jazzabel's.

The next day both Tom and Chris were expected at Dreamweavers-East to discuss Chris's layouts for Ducati and Tom's commitment to Macy's, leaving Owen with Beach to learn systems. At 1:30 Owen called Chris in a panic. "Your email is being flooded with congratulatory messages, I told Beach to send all phone calls to voice because the phone rang incessantly, and photographers were outside the building. What do I do?"

"Stay put and let Beach manage the incoming messages, while I and Tom figure out what is going on." Chris told Tom the problem, who was not sure why.

"Chris, we have a security issue." Adam said as he entered the conference room Tom and Chris were in. Cecelie video dropped this morning, and it has gone viral. There are about twenty reporters in the lobby wanting an interview and photo ops. We can tell them you are not here, but they will see you leave and follow you home. Or you can do an interview. Your choice."

"The press is already outside my building so that is moot. We need to do an interview. Is here acceptable? I don't want to curtail business."

Adam laughed. Cynthia joined them in the conference room. "Our phones are jammed; our emails are flooded and the server shut down. It is too late to worry about business as usual. What we need to do is turn this into an A class marketing opportunity. Dorn is selecting an appropriate outfit for you. We will use the photo studio, acting like they are interrupting your work."

Tom's phone rang. "Hi Tracey. ...OK slow down, tell me what is going on."

Adam's cell phone rang. "Hey Stu....Yeah the same here. We are working on having Chris do an interview...Yes, I agree, it is good publicity..." Adam laughed. "West too....We did know it was good, and it would be successful.... Yes, sometimes we do get what we asked for and then regret it, but overall, it is very positive for the company. Do you know how many recording artists will sign? We will need a whole video division to meet the demand....Yes, it is a good position to be in although it is a royal pain in the ass right now...OK, hang on. Chris, Stu wants to talk to you."

"Hi Stu....I'm overwhelmed to say the least, but will go with the flow....How is Cecelie doing. Is she in a safe location with support?...For now that is as safe as any. She should schedule an interview to release some of the curiosity pressure....I'm not sure. Owen...He's our personal assistant...I'll explain it later, yes it is a good decision...But he is at home freaking out because the press is outside the building, our phone is incessantly ringing and our email box is at capacity...It is learning by fire. I hope he doesn't want to head back home tonight....We will take care and see you in a few days....That is a good idea, thanks for arranging it until the hype wears off. I'll give you back to Adam."

Chris looked at Tom and Cynthia; Adam was still on the phone with Stu. "Stu is arranging security for us and Cecelie."

"Good." Cynthia said with hands on her hips. "I would hate to see our celebrity ripped to shreds. Now let me check with Dorn and see if things are arranged for the interview."

"Who called you Tom?"

Tom laughed lightly. "Tracey. The video is a big hit at his school. He is a celeb by association and freaking out."

"Is he safe?"

"Yeah, the football squad has volunteered as bodyguards. He has girls and guys making very overt sexual offers, all for a chance to meet you." Tom pulled Chris close to him. "He will be fine, and we will be fine."

"How can you be so blasé about this?"

"I grew up in Hollywood. I have seen too many examples of the latest hot commodity cause a feeding frenzy until the next hot commodity comes along. Give it time, and it will pass."

"Chris," It was Cynthia, "see Dorn. Once you are changed and in position we will let the press in. Just be your charming self and evade any off questions by changing the topic to how proud you are of the overall quality of the video." The video went well, most of the reporters were polite: asked about the video, about future videos, about a solo career. One reporter asked very pointed sexual orientation questions which Chris ignored.

Security arrived during the interview and helped usher the last reporters out. Three identical cars in the building's garage waited, Chris and Tom got into one with a large man, over 6' 5" and 300 pounds large. He introduced himself as Bill Pendergast. He was pleasant and personable although his eyes were always roving over the surroundings. At Chris's home, four reporters were outside the building along with three cops, one was Paddy O'Neil, whom Chris met shortly after he moved to Brooklyn. The Press people asked Chris for an interview.

"I am sorry lady (one of the four was a woman) and gentlemen, I never grant interviews to people who infringe on the peaceful life of my neighbors. If you had contact Dreamweavers-East, I would have granted you an interview, like I did this afternoon. Now if you would disperse, I would appreciate it. Otherwise, I will have you arrested for being on private property. Have a good day." Chris and Tom turned and entered the building with Bill following. Questions were yelled even after they closed the door. The police dispersed the crowd.

"You do bring excitement Chris." Millie was standing at the door of her unit. "What the hubbub. I hope a juicy scandal."

Chris sighed and grinned. "No scandal. A music video was released today that I was a small part of. It has gone viral. So now I am newsworthy. In a few days the hype should cool down. I am sorry if they disturbed you."

"Fuck no. If they had not left , I would have brought them out cookies and tell them what a wonderful person you are. I always wanted to be in the news, except for that one scandal when I was nineteen." She looked at Bill. "Who's the muscle?"

"This is Bill, he is our body guard until the furor dies."

She walked up to Bill, grasped his biceps and then ran a hand along his stomach. "No fat on this fellow. If I were a few years younger..." She left the statement hanging.

"Thanks' Ma'am for the compliment." He winked at her. "Both of them." He followed Chris and Tom into the elevator.

The elevator opened and Owen threw himself into Chris's arms. "You're OK. No one has hurt you?"

"Thanks, Owen for worrying about me," Tom said with a chuckle.

"Sorry, sir, but all the messages have been for Chris." It was the first time he used a first name. Chris smiled at Tom, who noted it too. Owen looked at Bill, who stood arms crossed and amused.

"Owen, this is Bill. He is our body guard. And Bill this is Owen, our personal assistant, fresh from England." They shook hands, Bill careful not to crush Owen's fingers.

"Welcome home sirs. Your social media accounts have overwhelmed your servers. I am sorting through them now by sender. I have moved family and friends to a separate server."

"Thank you Beach. Put the property on Level 2 security." Chris turned to Bill and explained what Beach was and what Level 2 was. "Beach, how is the L.A. Gate and property?"

"Sir, there have been small crowds at the gate, but I politely informed them that you were not taking visitors and to disperse. Most did immediately. A few tried to breach the perimeter. I set the dogs after them. They ran like rabbits."

"We don't have dogs."

"They didn't know that." Snarling, angry dogs sounded in the house. "The perimeter speakers made the sound chase them." Chris thought he heard Beach softly chuckle.

"Thank you Beach. The stranger is Bill Pendergast. He is our security guard. Give him Level 3 access along with exterior cameras and sound."

"Done sir. Could I have a voice sample too?" Bill looked around for a microphone, but was told to just talk.

"I am Bill Pendergast, with Blue Shield Security. I need to be notified prior to Mr. Wentworth or Thomas Greenwood leaving the building so I can accompany them. Do you guys understand that. Blue Shield has notified the area police of our assignment. If I could have your schedule for the next few days I would appreciate it."

"Beach, print three copies of Chris and Tom's appointments for the next five days." Owen looked at Chris and Tom, proud at what he had learned about Beach. "I did not waste time. While you were at work, I worked. Beach has amazing capacity. He will be fun to utilize. Dinner is in the oven. I ordered groceries and the place is stocked with fresh meats and produce and sufficient canned food to get us through when we first arrive and have not shopped."

"Why have we never had a PA before. He is not only cute but also handy." With that Tom pulled Owen into a bro hug.

"Bill, would you join us for supper so you and I can go over the schedules." Owen said as he handed Bill the printouts. "Now sit and relax. I have wine for Chris and Tom. What would you like: wine or beer. We have several types of beer., almost none that I am familiar with."

"I'm not fussy, just bring me any beer." The three talked while Owen was busy in the kitchen humming an Adele song.

"Sirs, Mistress Louisa is at the door." Owen was quickly at the door to let her in. She ignored him and strode determinedly toward Chris.

"Chris, I want to be the first to congratulate you on the new video release and also be the first to invite you on my show tomorrow." She then sat down and looked at Bill. "Oh, sorry, I didn't know you were in a meeting."

"No," Tom laughed, "this is Bill. He is Chris's bodyguard until the frenzy dies." Tom nodded toward the kitchen. "And that is our PA Owen."

"Oh." She was at a loss for words. "Both are good. Millie told me about the crowd outside, and the news is wild at the interview from Dreamweavers. But I want the first TV interview."

"Your show is live at 2:00 PM. I am not sure I am free." Chris looked at Owen.

"I obtained your schedule from Dreamweavers. Very nice people once I explained who I am and why I wanted the information. You are meeting with Ducati at 9 for about 3 hours but are scheduled for four hours, while Tom is spending the morning at Macy's. You both then have a luncheon date with Cordilia Duncan at 1:00 at the Cabbage Roll. 2:00 you have a conference call with Stu and Helga. I believe it is an update before you arrive in Chicago on Saturday. From 3 to 5 I have miscellaneous."

"Call or text Helga and reschedule the meeting for 3:30. Also contact Cordelia to see if we can up the lunch to 12:30. Stu would want the publicity. Louisa, we can do your show."

"Thanks, I owe you one more. This is a scoop that my colleagues will turn a shade of envy green." She turned and briskly left.

The next morning Bill was at their door before Chris or Tom were out of the shower. Own had coffee, juice, and muffins to go with a selection of English jams. There were no reporters outside the condo and none outside Dreamweavers, which pleased Chris until he walked inside and saw five reporters waiting for him. He waved passed then; Bill glowering keeping them distant. By 11:00 Chris had finished several inside shots against a greenscreen with three Ducati motorcycles. The Ducati representative was pleased with the raw images, but he would want more outside. He thought in Italy once the weather is better. Chris enjoyed working with him; he was all hands on and passionate with a keen eye.

After lunch with Cordelia; it was part business and part gossip, which Chris enjoyed, Chris and Tom headed to the TV station. The interview with Louisa was not hard-hitting journalism with tough personal questions. It was a little about Chris, his background in music, what he does for fun, which stumped Chris since he did little that was just for fun, except maybe Jazzabel's, but he did not mention that. The bulk of the questions were about making the video: the location was Death Valley, it was a real coyote at the end, how talented Cecelie is, and would there be more with her or solo. And then back to Dreamweavers, with only two reporters in the lobby.

"Your interview was excellent Chris," Adam said as he joined Chris in a changing room before he did a couple of magazine layouts. "You looked great on TV; you looked at the audience, which was endearing; you spoke well, were articulate; and you promoted Dreamweavers. We have had over a dozen calls because of the interview. I sent Stu and Helga a copy. We know next month you go in for your surgery. Depending upon how you feel, we want to expand your role in Dreamweavers from just being a model."

"Thanks Adam. Lousia asked me what I do for fun. That stumped me because there was nothing I could say that wasn't work related. Tom and I have not even had time to consider a honeymoon. Since I started at Dreamweavers in April I have been to five countries, a dozen states, bought two homes, and inherited an English manor house. Besides helping launch Dreamweavers-West and now Dreamweavers-Europe. Having a PA will help. I didn't think so until all this shit hit the fan, and Owen stepped up and handled most of the social media and email flack, but he is young and inexperienced."

"Chris, you are right that you are running at full steam and need decompression time. And don't think that your recuperation time is it. The other board members have been talking about you and Tom and what an asset you are to the company, but we also worry that we are loading too much on you and Tom. We are not certain what to do about it because when we ask you deliver beyond our expectations. The interview today and the one in England increased our credibility immensely, which will increase our stable of talent and revenue. You and Tom think about how you want to focus your talents and then talk to the rest of us. We will listen."

"Sure, but don't expect an answer tomorrow."

Adam laughed, "No, not tomorrow. Take your time. You and Tom talk about where you want to be in five or ten years. Once you know that we can talk after the first of the year."

"That is a plan. We do need to do that anyway. Now I need to change and complete today's schedule."

Boyd rushed into the dressing room. "Need to get out of this and home. Chaz is having my family over for supper. Love them but would like time for just the two of us." He started striping and tossing the clothes into a pile for the wardrobe mistress to clean and repair as needed. "You have plans?"

"Yeah, going to Jazzabel's, but will be home early because we fly to Chicago tomorrow mid-morning."

"What's in Chicago besides Stu and Helga?'

"More Stu and Helga. They will take most of our time. But we will visit with my family, which will be nice. They are turning into good people."

"Do you know when Chaz and I will see you again?"

"Not likely until our nuptials in England."

"Well, if I don't see you before then, take care of yourself and don't let the paparazzi ruin your life." And Boyd was off.

It was after 6:00 when Chris dragged himself into his place. Tom was already home and helping Owen cook supper. "He hon. You look like you were in a fifteen round boxing match. You sure you want to go to Jazzabel's tonight. She will understand if we cancel."

"No, oddly it is one place besides home that I can have fun and relax. But we won't stay long." Chris sniffed the air. "Supper smells great, and Owen, you can come with us tonight. You are not of age, but Jazzabel won't throw you out."

"I'd like that, Thank you Chris. I've never been to a nightclub."

"Jazzabel's is not a typical night club. Jazzabel is a drag queen." Owen's eyes widened. "She is as funny and raunchy as sin, but has a giant heart. The majority of her audience is gay, but a good percent is straight. It is always fun." Chris looked at Owen, thinking. "Can you teach me a few English folk songs and maybe if you know a few dirty ones before we leave?" Owen knew a surprisingly large number of bawdy tunes.

Bill arrived at 8:30 to take them to the club. He was not happy about the crowds, but did not argue.

When they exited the car at the club, the usual long line was waiting to be allowed in. There was the usual excited chatter as groups shed their weekday woes. But then there was silence, like the heave before a storm. A buzz came, like from one bee, then two, then twenty, and then screams louder than the Mormon Tabernacle Choir drinking tabasco sauce. "It's Chris." "He is really here' "I want his baby" "Omigod, Omigod" "He is far cuter in person" "He can fuck my ass any time." "I love you Chris" Bill quickly shepherded Chris and party into the building with the help of one of the bouncers. They were quickly escorted to the VIP section, which was roped off and guarded by two big burly men--no a mistake--one big burly man and one big burly woman. Of the two, she was the most terrifying. Drinks were served. Jazzabel sent one of her boys to collect Chris. "I have been summoned," Chris said as the svelte young man in gold lame micro shorts assisted Chris from the table.

Owen looked at Tom more confused than concerned. Tom shrugged his shoulders. "Chris and Jazzabel have a friendly competition. He and Jazzabel play `name that song'. It gets very competitive. It is also one place, ironically in front of an audience, that Chris truly relaxes because everybody is having fun." Zack and Juan joined them and soon after Louis and Ollie. After introductions, Owen almost immediately started pumping Louis for cooking tips, which Louis enjoyed.

The show started with Jazzabel, in a fuchsia gown, slit on the side to the thigh and matching wig. The show was her usual introduction and mention of a special guest, most of the crowd already knew and cheered. A couple of drag queens came out, sang--no lip syncing for Jazzabel. A choreographed strip tease with four young men using DVD's instead of fans as a tease. Jazzabel returned, now in a multi shade of blue and vermilion gown with puffed sleeves and a long train, and matching wig. "As I said we have a surprise guest. Since he was last here, he released a music video that has captured the world. I am pleased to welcome back, Chris."

Chris descended to the stage in the arms of two cupids. He was wearing a black sequin suit jacket and pants with no shirt. A red rose was in the lapel. "I am very pleased to be here tonight at the best club in greater New York with the most sophisticated audience." That earned hoots from the crowd. Chris was grinning at the reaction. "I hope to please you and teach the old gal a few new tricks. She has `roll over and play dead' down well. But I have a few tricks up my sleeve to challenger her."

Jazzabel strolled over to Chris, her size looming about Chris. "Old tricks, sonny." She glared at Chris. The crowd "oooed" ominously anticipating a smack down. "But I have one trick for you tonight." She smiled, showing her large white canines. She flicked her wrist and a single black sequined grand piano rolled out. She flicked again; a large gold throne appeared. She went and sat in the chair. "Amuse us." She produced a fan from her bosom and a gold togaed man knelt holding a drink. Chris stood dumbfounded for a second before she waved her fingers, like brushing off dust, toward the piano.

"Your majesty." Chris bowed deeply, his head almost to the floor. "It will be my great pleasure. Are there any requests?"

"Let's start with your recent success `Lesson'."

"Your Majesty, I do not own rights to that, and I do not want to take away from the artist who just released it."

"Yes, my wily subject. I anticipated that." She snapped her fingers. Cecelie appeared on a TV screen. "Hi Chris, are you as overwhelmed by the success of the music video as I am. I am sure that you are being inundated with requests to perform it. You have my full permission because you are as much part of the song and the success as me. Hope to see you soon." The screen went black. "Play," Was the single word command.

Chris sat at the piano and played and sang the song. It did not have the same magic as the video, but it was satisfactory. The audience appreciated it enough that he had to play it again, which he thought was a better rendition.

"We are pleased, Chris. But now we would like a little Porter." Chris played three Cole Porter songs. Chris noticed that his voice could hit lower notes than a few months ago, and it was like amber honey. "Thank you Chris. We have only one more request." She smiled with a quirk to her left lip. Chris knew he was in trouble. "Would you play Gershwin?" Chris waited. "We would like to hear Rhapsody in Blues." Chris had not played it since he was fifteen for a school recital, and he did not play it well since he was forced to wear a pink dress. But how could he refuse now. He sat and started, a little shaky, which he used to set the jazzy tone of the piece, by bar ten, he was lost in the music: lost in chords and playful syncopation seeking resolution, which only happens at the end. The last note settled into a silent room, but Chris did not notice; he was returning from his high.

Chris managed to stand and face Jazzabel. "Your Majesty, did I amuse you?" The room erupted into wild applause, whistles, and bravos. Chris looked out over the audience surprised by the noise. Gaining his wits, he bowed and then knelt in front of Jazzabel.

The people in the club still applauding, she raised a hand, silencing them. "You have more than amused me my dearest Chris. You have blessed us. Thank you."

"I am but your humble servant and wish to retire from the stage to spend time with friends."

"How can I refuse." She stood and kissed Chris on the cheek. Chris bowed and left the stage to wild applause. "Sometimes, even in this bawdy establishment, magic happens. It happened tonight. We'll take a short intermission and return to the show."

Chris returned to the table in his own clothes and the applause of the audience. "Do you mind Tom if we leave. We have a flight tomorrow."

"Sorry Chris, plans have changed. Got a text from Helga to take a late flight Monday. Cecelie is to be in New York, Sunday. The two of you are scheduled for a morning show and a late show, which tapes live in the afternoon."

Chris sat silent digesting the news. "Can we get away for the weekend. It doesn't need to be far, but away. Just us and of course Owen."

"I feel the same hon. Let me find a quiet place and find a nice place for one night." Tom excused himself from the table and returned about twenty minutes later smiling. "I found a nice place on Fire Island. A small 2-bedroom ocean front cottage that is part of a larger resort with heated pool and restaurants."

"I've heard of Fire Island as a gay resort town like Key West, and the demise of Frank O'Hara by a dune buggy. But how far away is it?"

"A little over two hours, an easy trip."

Chris nudged Owen, who was ogling Jazzabel's boys. "We're going to leave in a bit because we are going out of town tomorrow for an overnight vacation." Owen nodded and resumed ogling.

"Guys, we hate to call it an early night. But since we will be here over the weekend. I'm taking Chris to Fire Island to decompress after the stress of this week."

"Not much of a honeymoon, but you both deserve it," said Ollie, who winked at Louis. "Took my man there for a few days in August. We had a blast." He then winked again.

Tom stood, then Chris, Owen, and Bill. "Do you need to say goodnight to Jazzabel?" Tom asked. Chris said he had done that after his show.

Once home Chris told Owen to pack one pair of jeans, a pair of nice dress slacks, a heavy sweater, and other necessities. Since we are going to be on the Atlantic, it will be very chilly and damp."

The left the next morning, early, with two backpacks and a small rolling duffle bag, to catch the Long Island Railroad, Montauk Branch, to Sayville. Chris had been to Long Island once for a photoshoot in the Hamptons, but not by train. It was all new and thrilling for Chris. Owen had been on trains before with school field trips to London and once to Paris, but this was to Fire Island, even in northwest England it was a mythical forbidden gay paradise.

Once situated on the train, which was not crowded, Owen asked, "Chris, Tom. I researched Fire Island before I went to bed. Is it really a gay resort town?"

"It is not exclusively gay, but many gay men visit in the summer, so it has a reputation like Key West as a welcoming gay destination."

"This is so exciting." Owen said. "The only other gay person I knew around me was an old farmer and his husband of forever. Not much of chance for me to experience gay life."

"I don't mind you experimenting, but remember that here in the States, you are under age until eighteen. If you have sex with anyone older than you, they could go to jail."

"I'll be a virgin for another four months." Owen lamented.

"I'm sure Tracey will introduce you to his gay friends," Tom said while glancing at Owen sulking as he looked out the train window.

"You mean your brother is gay too. I never suspected."

"Yup, at least right now with his boyfriend Gab. But he says he is pansexual and will not exclude women as a sexual partner."

"He's seventeen, like me, and he tells you about his sex life. I would be too embarrassed."

"Well, Tracey does not have many filters, which is why he is often in trouble with the parents. But he is basically a good kid with a level head. I want you to be friends with my brother."

"Thanks, I did not deal with him much when he was at Thistledown." Owen settled back into his seat. "Chris, I never said how fantastic you were last night. I heard you at his Lordship's but that was in a parlor with friends. Last night, you were on stage, and you did not falter once. They'd need to mop the floor after me because I would pee in my britches. When do you find time to practice?"

Tom started laughing so hard he almost fell off his seat. "Chris does not practice. My husband oozes talent. Like an orange, squeeze him a little and juices flow. Owen, you will discover, like am still discovering, that Chris is a genius. I have not seen one thing he does not excel at."

"Owen," Chris turned in the seat to look at Owen. "Tom is besotted by me and is love blind, so please do not help him discover my many flaws."

"Chris, when I find one, I promise never to tell," Owen said with a laugh.

Within 90 minutes, they were at Sayville, caught a van to the ferry and took the ferry to the Fire Island community of Fire Island Pines. Since it was off season, the place was not crowded, which Chris liked. Tom checked his GPS and followed to their accommodations, which was about six blocks walk from the ferry. The wind off the ocean was brisk and bracing with a temperature of about 45. They checked in. The place was empty, which suited Chris just fine.

"Welcome gentlemen," The voice was warm and welcoming, from a man, with dark brown skin, taller than Tom. "What brings to our place so far off season?"

"My husband needed a quick getaway to restore his sanity. It has been a challenging last nine months. And it will not get better." Tom pulled Chris into a hug; Chris melted at the touch.

"Fully understand that, my husband and I will be leaving in a few days for Key West for three months, just for the weather and to get away. By the way I'm Andy and my husband is Brett. He is making sure your place is ready." Andy looked over at Owen, who was looking out at the water. "And the other young man?"

"That is our personal assistant and ward." Andy looked at Chris for more information. "Long story, but he is an escapee from backwater England. He needs to see the world, and we inherited him." Chris was sure that Andy did not believe a word, but since this was a primarily gay establishment, Chris was sure he had seen stranger living arrangements.

"Hey, blokes." Owens British accent came out strong. "You may have inherited me, but Thistledown is not a backwater." Owen thought a second. "Much anyway. It's only a couple of hours from London."

Andy laughed, "Inherited?"

"Yes, I was a servant to Tom's grandfather, Lord Greenwood. Since Tom is the heir, I come with the property--not that I am a slave. His Lordship wants me to expand my worldview, so he assigned me to them."

"I guess it makes sense." Andy continued completing the paperwork.

"Brett, these are the hardy souls who would venture out to Fire Island during the winter." An older man with windblown blond hair and wearing a peacoat entered the room. "I'm Brett. Who is who?" After introductions, Brett offered hot cider. "Now I know why you needed a quick getaway. Saw the video, absolutely brilliant, but the media hype must be killer."

"That is mild. We had to convince our body guard that he was not needed for this trip. But Chris is holding up well." Tom and Chris sat on the wicker sofa to drink the cider. "We were married just a month ago, but because of work we have never had time for a honeymoon let alone a weekend away. One night might not be long, but it is away."

"Fire Island this time of year is almost a deserted island, except for the locals. No paparazzi or rabid fans here. We are pleased you chose to stay here." Andy had come around the counter to hand out three key cards. "The pool will be cold but the hot tub is on. Brett and I like to soak in it after a hard day. Getting this place locked down is a chore."

"Recommend any places to eat?"

"There's a small diner over on Harbor Walk and a more elegant place by the harbor. Both are within a ten-minute walk from here. The advantage of living on a small island is that everything is close. And you can always grab a water taxi to visit other communities on Fire Island." Andy handed Tom a brochure and map.

"Breakfast is here as part of your rental. Andy is a great cook, and he prepares for an army."

"Love, you eat like an army," Andy said to Brett.

"Because I can never get enough of you." Brett grabbed Andy and kissed him. "Now, we need to get you to your room and let you settle in."

Brett led the three guests to a side building with its own entrance from a courtyard off the pool deck. It was nicely appointed with one separate bedrooms, small kitchen and living room. Large windows looked over the turbulent Atlantic. "The bed will sleep three comfortably." Owen perked his ears, but Tom frowned. "Or the sofa turns into a bed."

"I'll be the one on the sofa," Owen groaned.

"Got that right dude. Not sharing my Chris with anyone." Brett laughed.

"Since it is off off season, we do not have any activities planned for the evening. However, a few friends are stopping by. You are welcome to join us."

"Thank you for the offer, but we will play it by ear. This is Chris's regeneration time."

"No prob man. I have my other half to pamper too." Brett left. Owen went to unpack.

Chris eased himself into a chair facing the water. "This is nice. This is a wonderful idea. We need to do more of this. Adam spoke to me and wants us to take more time for ourselves. This is a short start, but it is a start."

"I packed a couple of bottles of wine. Do you want a glass?"

"Yes that would be divine."

"Here you go Tom." Owen walked into the living room carrying two bottles of wine. "I'm sure there is a corkscrew in the kitchen." Owen rumbled around. "Yup got one. I'll open and pour." He rummaged in cabinets and found glasses. "Here you go Chris, Tom. Cheers." The three sat listening to the rush of wind around the door and the watching the whitecapped waves invade the shore.

After a good fifteen minutes, Owen said, "I'm hungry. Let's find the dinner."

Tom and Owen stood. "You two go and enjoy. Bring me back something good for lunch." Tom and Owen left with little protest; Chris melted into the sound of the waves until they merged.

An hour later Tom and Owen returned with two large bags of food. "Smells great and I'm starved. I hope you had a good time," Chris said from the kitchen where he was boiling water for chamomile tea.

"Yes, we had a very nice time," Tom put his arms around Chris and kissed him. "We met some of the locals and found out about all the exciting things to do here in the month of December. And it seems we're doing it right now."

"All the action is in the summer," complained Owen. "I was hoping to lose my virginity." He gave a heavy sigh. "A few more days of chastity is good for the soul, according to Father Mathews, but he has a wife."

"Poor baby so neglected. What is in the bags?" Chris started to rip into them. "Ooh, burgers and fries and onion rings and coleslaw and mac and cheese." Chris pilled the food on the dinette set; then opened the second bag. "Yum sweets: apple pie, banana cream pie, cheese cake, and German chocolate cake." Tom brought over three plates. "Who said I was sharing." Chris playfully batted Tom's hand away.

"Who brought you all the goodies?" Tom snagged a French fry.

"Fine, I'll share." They all sat around the table drinking hot apple cider, which Owen found at a corner grocery store.

"Since this is a relaxation trip, I packed the Lord of the Rings, all three parts." Owen waved the DVD in front of them. "I can make popcorn and we can binge watch."

"That's a good plan, Owen. I've not seen any of them." Chris was looking at the DVD case.

"We can watch Part 1 now and the others after supper," Tom said as he snuggled on the sofa next to Chris. Chris grumbled a couple of times about the changes to the plot and missing story elements. Once the movie was over they headed to supper. Returning, Tom lit a fire in the gas fireplace and they settled in to watch Part 2. Which Chris grumbled more about until Tom scolded him to behave or go to the bedroom. Chris fell asleep during Part 3. Tom carried him to bed and then resumed watching the movie with Owen.

Chris rose early, before Tom and Owen, and went for a walk on the beach. The morning fog softened the world around him except for the sound of the drumming surf. Chris walked about two miles and then headed back. When he entered the living room, Tom and Owen were up. Andy was with them.

"Did you enjoy your walk, Chris?" Andy asked. "Mornings like this are also my favorites for solitary walks. Anyway, I'm here to say breakfast will be in twenty." He rose and quickly left.

"We need to head back after breakfast. We are to meet Cecelie, Adam and Cynthia for supper and to game plan tomorrow." Chris only nodded with a sigh. Tom walked over and pulled Chris close to him. "I know, but we need the job. We have a growing boy to feed." He looked at Owen but kissed Chris on the neck. "We will be doing more of this."

Owen had packed the backpacks and bags and had them sitting by the door. Chris opened the door letting the heady salt air swirl around him. "Yeah, time to head back."

"Thanks," Chris said as they entered their home. "Even though it was only one night, it helped me refocus." He kissed Tom and left for the bedroom.

Tom looked after Chris. "Owen, we need to change for supper tonight. The place is suit and tie. And likely some press following us."

"Do I need to go? I don't mind staying here." Tom's curt yes ended the discussion. Tom quickly followed Chris into the bedroom for a more intimate thank you.

By 6:30 the three were ready to leave. Owen was struggling with his tie, which Tom showed him how to tie it. "Get used to doing this kid." Tom said as he pulled the tie tighter than needed. "And we need to get you something more fashionable for social events. You look like a banker in that black suit and white shirt." Owen looked at Tom in his patchwork suit jacket and red pants, and then Chris in his turquoise jacket with black leather dress pants. Owen was not sure that he could ever wear something that loud.

"Owen," Chris laid a gentle hand on his shoulder. "We are part of the fashion industry. We are expected to be trend setters, arbiters of good taste, and ridiculed as excessive. Most people would never wear this, but..." Chris leaned in close to Owen's ear. "It is fun to play dress up."

They met Cynthia in the lobby of the Millennium Hotel. "My don't you look sharp." She looked around at people taking pictures on their cell phones, two were paparazzi. "Cecelie and Adam are in the lounge. And who is the young man with you?" Tom introduced Owen as their PA. Cynthia was not sure that was the truth, but said nothing. "Chris, you are looking more relaxed than I expected. Cecelie is wound tighter than a drum. The L.A. bloodsuckers have been relentless in pursuit of her. Nat has had to hide Cecelie to keep her from being overwhelmed." Chris told Cynthia about their overnight excursion. "I am counting on you, Chris, to mellow Cecelie out, both events tomorrow are important for her career and Dreamweavers, as her agent."

Adam and Cecelie were sitting at a round table, where Cynthia directed them. Cecelie stood relieved to see Chris. She looked stunning in a full-length canary gown with black beaded accents. "Chris, I'm so glad you are here. It's surreal the media frenzy over my one song. I'm not sure I can adjust to the in-your face of the press."

Chris hugged her and they both sat, him holding her hands. "Intense is too tame a word." He laughed and his eyes lit up. "But it is better than being panned." She joined Chris in a nervous laugh. "None of this would be happening if your songs did not touch people. People relate to your music, and now want to thank you for it, which brings in the media. The media is the link between yourself and your audience. Face it with both pride and humility: head held high and a smile."

"Thanks Chris. You're going to be with me tomorrow?"

"We're in this together, Cec." A waiter placed a glass of white wine in front of Chris. Tom had ordered for Chris. "How's your family and friends handling your fame?"

"My parents were very excited until a couple of jerks showed up on their farm to talk about me." Cecelie chucked. "Dad ran them off with a gun, like he did my first boyfriend when I was eleven."

"We need to leave for our reservation at Le Bernadin. I hope you like seafood." Adam stood, helping Cynthia, and Tom assisted Cecelie. "We have a limo waiting."

Over the meal they discussed what to play and what types of questions might be asked. Cecelie wanted to perform another song from her album rather than "Lesson". Chris knew the melody but had never played it. After the meal they went to the Dreamweavers offices and practiced on a piano there until Chris felt comfortable with the music and Cecelie's pacing of the song. She had more confidence in Chris's ability than he did.

By midnight, they dragged themselves home. "Chris, Tom, can you , in the future, make me stay home. The meal was first rate, but the conversation was boooring." With that Owen went to bed.

Chris looked at Tom. "Was the evening boring?"

Tom hugged Chris. "You know I love you, but yes. However, it was important."

Both ten-minute segments on the morning news show and late-night show went well. The new song was well received and the interviews were insipid, but pre-orders for the album tripled.

By 8:30 PM Chris, Tom, and Owen were in Chicago, at the Aroura hotel. After they checked into the hotel, ordered a light snack, which Zack delivered, although he was promoted to front desk, they crashed.

Chris's phone alarm went off at 6:30, like usual. Owen was already up and ordered coffee and a light breakfast. "Good morning Chris. I hope you slept as well as I did. I have the local paper on the table along with your schedule for the day. You don't need to be at Dreamweavers until 9:15 to meet with Gorky for his critic of Mr. Darcy's portfolio. You then have a meeting with Helga and Stu to discuss expansion into Europe. Lunch will be with them. The afternoon is a board meeting, which will last about two hours. You and Tom are to be at your parent's for supper at 7."

"And your plans today?" Chris knew but wanted to see if Owen understood his role.

"Zack is off today and offered to show me Chicago."

"Nice try. Zack is working until 4:00. I checked his schedule. You are coming with Tom and me to all the meetings. You need to know what we do and the people we work with."

"Sir, could you kindly drive a spike into my forehead. I doubt I can take a day of boring meetings."

"Tough shit." Chris gave Owen a stern look. "If I have to suffer, so do you. Besides, you will be the gopher."

"I know what a gopher is but how am I going to be an animal?"

"Gofer is a corruption of `go for'. You will go for coffee, go for snacks, and go for other errands as needed."

"I will be an errand boy. Got it." Owen was satisfied that he would not need to sit and listen. "I don't need to go to your parents, do I?" Owen asked, dreading a yes.

"No, you and Zack can spend the night out on the town. He mentioned to me taking you to Boys Town." Owen raised an eyebrow. "It is a very gay section of Chicago. You have a credit card you can use to pay for supper and buy a few things."

Tom wandered into the living area of the room, wearing only underwear. Both Chris and Owen appreciated the view. "Morn'n. Got coffee?" Owen poured Tom a cup as he sat at the table. "Gooood." Tom slurred as he slurped. "Good morning love of my life and you too Chris." Tom looked down at the pastries on the table. "OH, current scones and clotted cream. Cedrick knows how to serve a proper English breakfast." Tom grabbed one, cut it in half and slathered it with cream and orange marmalade. "Next time we're in England, we need to ship home some proper marmalade."

"Tom, your upbringing was as English as mine, so cut the act that you grew up on this. I know your parents."

Tom leaned over and kissed Chris. "Hush, apple of my heart. I did live in England during the summers since I turned twelve. This was always a treat there."

"Yes, and you mostly hated it."

"Yes, mostly, but there were good times too." Tom took another bite and moaned in appreciation. "Speaking of hating it. How are you about visiting your parents this evening?"

"Mixed. I want to cancel, but it is also what I need to do. I need to leave the past and the painful last memories of that home. My parents have matured so much that they actually want us in their house. I am grateful for the change, but the past is like a broken glass I want to avoid stepping on. But it carpets the floor like grass. The lacerations cannot be avoided." Owen studied Chris wondering about the pain.

"If it gets to be too much, we can leave." Tom had moved closer to Chris and was hugging him tightly.

"Yes, we can. This time it can be my choice." Owen had assumed that because of Chris's cheerful and positive disposition that he had a loving childhood. Now he was not sure it was that blessed. He would not pry but his respect for Chris increased.

The conversation turned to the people Owen would meet, the people he would need to impress and the people who would treat him like family. "Now Stu and Helga are the two most important people at Dreamweavers. Stu is the CEO, the Chief Executive Officer. He is a no-nonsense teddy bear. He is very protective of his employees while a ruthless negotiator. Helga is the COO, the Chief Operating Officer. She is a dragon. She knows if you even shade the truth and will burn you. But if she likes you, you are golden. The first time I met her, I thought she was a receptionist because she was working the front desk. She is down to earth and warm until you stook her fires." Owen nodded, now afraid of the two.

"Chris, we need to dress and get ready to leave. You never know how morning traffic will be."

"I'll let the front desk know to call a cab." Owen said as he cleaned up some of the dishes. Chris told Owen to not wear a suit but a heavy sweater and dress slacks. "Chicago weather in December is cold, particularly exacerbated by the winds," Chris told Owen. No snow was predicted, which relieved Chris, who remembered the dangerous winter blizzard at the beginning of the year when 19 inches of snow fell in two days. Several homeless people Chris knew froze to death. He, Hank, and Dion managed to find room in an overcrowded shelter, but many were turned away for lack of space. Tom helped Chris on with a long grey-plaid wool overcoat and then carefully wrapped the grey knit scarf loosely around his neck. Chris put a thick scarf around his neck not wanting to remember survival on the streets when it snowed or temperatures were well below freezing. Chris relished the warmth of the coat and Tom's dutiful attention.

They arrived at Dreamweavers--Central, as it was now called, about thirty minutes early. This gave time for Chris and Tom to introduce Owen to everybody. Helga fell in love with Owen and immediately started to mother him. Owen was leery at first but could not refuse for long the person dotting on them.

Owen went with Tom to meet the secretarial staff, while Chris met with Gorky. "Hey man, how they ...never mind that. How you doing?" Gorky asked as he poured Chris a cup of hibiscus tea with agave to sweeten it.

"Not sure." Chris shook his head with a laugh. "The release of the music video has been insane. People see me at the airports or in a store and most stop and stare not sure if I am the person in the video. A few ask for autographs, but they are usually polite. It is the media that are the most tenacious. Our place in L.A. has had several property breaches by reporters. Fortunately, our security system is excellent."

"Yeah, man. It's a big difference from when you were first here in April. Even without the music video, you are now an internationally known model. You've been in GQ, Vogue, Cosmopolitan and Forbes. People are seeing you." Gorky took a step back and studied Chris. "You started your testosterone. Your features are more masculine. It is a good look for you." Chris was not aware of how different his features were seeing his face every day, but he liked that he was changing. "Your voice is deeper and sexier." Gorky grabbed a donut, stuffing a third of it in his mouth. "I want to take another set of photos for your portfolio with the improved look."

"Do we have time today because I'm not sure when I will be back to Chicago. We will be in England for our nuptials there and then during January or February I will have my surgery."

"Can do a few this morning. Tom can handle the Europe expansion since he's doing the initial leg work."

"I met a photographer in London. I would like you to look at his portfolio. I think he is very good and might fit the needs for Dreamweavers--Europe." Chris handed Gorky Clyde's portfolio. "There is one that I want to show Ariel Greenwood. I think it is worthy of a gallery."

Gorky started paging through the photos, occasionally going back to look again. Chris could tell by the crinkle of Gorky's eyes that he thought these were good. He stopped at on page and looked at the photo for a long time. "Holy fuck this is good." He finished the portfolio and looked at Chris. "Man, this dude is one hell'v'a photographer. Where did you meet him? How did you meet him?"

"His name is Clyde Darcy; he works at Harrods as a sales clerk. He was helping us find clothes for Owen, our PA. He overheard us discussing opening Dreamweavers-- Europe and approached me for an internship. He will graduate in a few months from University of Art-London. I know it is too early to bring him on board; he knows that too. But I don't want to lose talent because of timing."

"He has a few very difficult technical shots, which shows that he knows a camera. But even more impressive is his ability to capture emotion and ambiance. That photo of the man by the window is moving. Is that the one you thought should be in a gallery?"

"Yeh, that is the one. I'm thinking of asking to buy it from him."

"Can you present this at our board meeting this afternoon. You're right. He is a talent we need to nab. Can he travel here for a week or two. I'd like to meet him and further assess his skills."

"Not sure. He lives with his widowed mother and younger siblings. I get the impression that he is the primary wage earner in the family. Which is why he is thinking commercial rather than freelance; better money and more security.""

"I'll be in England for your and Tom's nuptials. Could I meet him then?"

"Yes, I asked him to do the wedding pictures."

"Great. Now see Miriam so we can update your photos." Chris went to find Miriam

"Hi," Owen said, "I was told Chris is up here."

"Yes?" Gorky looked at Owen suspiciously. "And who might you be invading my space?"

"I'm Owen, Chris and Tom's Personal Assistant."

Gorky burst out laughing. "Right, nice try kid. Bet you're not even out of high school."

"Sir, my age has little to do with the fact, and I find your response highly insulting. First that you would consider my age as an impediment for doing the job and more so that you would consider me a liar. I demand an apology and directions where I might find Chris."

"Fine dude, you are right that I stereotyped you by your youth. As for lying, do you know how many people try to sneak in here to see highly classified designer clothes before they are unveiled to the public. You give me evidence then I will believe you."

Owen crossed his arm and looked at Gorky, not the least intimidated. He pulled out his phone and dialed. A phone rang at the far end of the room behind a partial wall. "Sir, this is Owen. I am with a jackass who thinks I'm a liar. Could you set him straight?...Thanks."

Chris came out to find Gorky sitting on the floor having a jolly laugh and Owen standing tense in high pique. "Gorky, this is Owen, our PA. Tom's grandfather asked us to take him on as an assistant to broaden his education."

Gorky stood and offered Owen his hand. "I do humbly apologize for my skepticism but too many people want to take advantage of my man Chris. I need to protect him just like you do."

Owen thought it over remembering all the fan email Chris received, the paparazzi, and the looks from strangers. "I also apologize. You were correct to challenge me without identification. Chris, how do I obtain valid identification for my position?"

"We need business cards for you." Chris said.

"Now that all that is settled, back to you dressing and to my taking photos. Do you want to help Owen?"

"I would be happy to be your gofer." He winked at Chris.

Chris poised in everything from tuxedos to bikinis. The last was barefoot only in a pair of leather pants laced up the sides and open leather vest. After much discussion, between various whips, they settled on a horse whip, bullwhip, and at Owen's suggestion a white camelia. After reviewing the proofs, the one with the camelia was best--tough but sensitive. Tom came upstairs to announce lunch.

At lunch Owen enthused about how much fun the photoshoot was and how much work. Privately, to Tom, he confessed how sexy Chris was and seeing him in the leather gave him a boner. Tom confided that it gave him one too. Both Stu and Helga were pleased that Chris and Tom had an assistant who seemed very capable. Stu, Helga, Gorky and Miriam promised Chris and Tom that they would be at their nuptials at Thistledown. Helga and Stu were going to combine it with a business trip to follow up on the contacts Tom had made. Miriam wanted to shop for costumes for the wardrobe and Gorky was interested in meeting Clyde. Gorky passed Clyde's portfolio around to unanimous agreement that they needed to hire him.

"Chris," Stu said at the end of lunch. "Clyde seems to be a find, but that is your knack. Keep doing it and you will have our support. Also, thanks for helping with Cecelie during the interviews. There were a few times I thought she would crack under the pressure, but you steered the responses so that she could answer. Oh, by the way, you have an interview on a local station tomorrow morning. The station will have a driver pick you up at 6:30." Owen made a note on his phone.

"Thanks Stu, praise me then throw me to the wolves."

"My pleasure lad." Stu was pleased with himself.

"When do you have your surgery, Chris?" Helga asked.

"Likely next month. I will be out for four to six weeks."

"We will all be here for you if you need anything. We do not want you rushing back before you are ready."

"Thank you. But I am worried that I will get bored being home and with Tom off to Europe."

"Yes, we have discussed that," Stu said, "Tom will work out of L.A. with him home every night. And with Owen there to help."

"Sir," Owen broke in, "I knew that Chris was to have surgery, but I did not know that it was to be this serious. Chris and Tom only have my US Visa for this month. They intend for me to finish my last six weeks of school in England before rejoining them." Owen looked at Chris and then Tom, angry.

"Oh," said Helga, obviously angry too.

"We have it all planned to have an agency available while I am recovering. I will be fine with minimal supervision." Chris did not want to be a bother to anyone, and he was not going to let others dictate his care.

"I am sure you will be Chris." Stu tried to mollify Chris. "We just care about you and worry." The tension did not dissipate. "It is time for our board meeting. Owen, since you will be attending to observe the preceding, would you take minutes?"

"Yes sir, I would be delighted."

The meeting was more boring than Owen feared, but he dutifully took notes. Chris brought up that he and Tom might want a condo or apartment in Chicago to save hotel expenses when they visit. It was decided that a corporate condo would serve all divisions and clients they wanted to wine and dine. It was suggested that they buy or rent one in London too since more trips would be there as they developed that branch. Helga said she would work on Chicago if Tom would work on London. It was quickly changed when it was pointed out that Tom would be in L.A. with Chris for two months. Tom suggested his grandfather's solicitor as a contact for the purchase or renting. That could be started when they were in England later this month. At 4:30, the meeting broke up when no one was any longer productive. Chris, Tom and Owen caught a taxi back to the hotel.

The fireplace in their room was a cheery welcome on the cold night. A bottle of wine was open and waiting along with a tray of canapes. There was a note. "Enjoy your stay, Cedrick". Tom poured Chris a full glass of wine.

Zack and an older friend came to claim Owen for the evening, promising to behave and return Owen sober by 11:00 PM. It was a school night for Zack and he needed to be up early. Tom scooted them off to find himself alone with Chris. Tom found Chris in the bedroom staring at the closet. "Chris it will be fine." He kissed Chris on the neck. "You have nothing to prove to them."

"I know. It is not so much my parents as the house. It is just too weird to return to a home I grew up in. I have some good memories until it all ended abruptly. I don't want the bad to overwhelm the good." Chris leaned his head back onto Tom's chest. "And I don't want the good to make me forget the bad and who I am now. I guess it is sort of like having lunch with an old flame that has moved on--it is just awkward." Chris turned around and kissed Tom. "But I will survive."

"Don't forget hon, you have me with you." Tom gave Chris a deep kiss. "I'm not going to change clothes, nor are you. You look fantastic. So, let's get this over with."

"Fuck yes." Chris turned and walked firmly toward the living room, where he downed what was left in a glass of wine glass uncertain whose glass it was.

The Uber dropped them off at a well-maintained brick house. Going up a short flight of stairs to a small porch, Chris rang the doorbell. It felt surreal ringing the doorbell to the house he grew up in.

Chris Sr. answered the door. "Hi Chris, Tom." He rubbed one hand against the leg of his pants, nervous. " You do not need to ring the doorbell. I want you to consider this your home too and just walk in like when you lived here." The tension between Chris and his father was thick until his father pulled Chris into a hug, barely holding back tears. "We have missed you here so much. It is so good to have you home Chris. Now get in here and out of the cold, don't want to heat the outside."

Chris laughed as he remembered his dad always saying that. "Thank you. It is good to be home." Chris Sr. led the two to the living room, which had new furniture, which did not surprise Chris since his mother liked to redecorate. At least she lost the neo-colonial for more contemporary jewel tones. The baby grand piano, however, was still in front of the street -facing bay window. Chris was always convinced she placed it there for people outside to see how cultured her house was. Chris and Tom sat on the sofa while his dad sat in the same recliner he had sat in for years; it did not match the rest of the decor, but it was a concession his mother must have made to maintain peace. It was his dad's favorite place to sit and read the evening paper.

"Where's Mom and Britney?" Chris asked.

"Your mother is in the kitchen. You know her and how she likes to put on a show when she entertains. I told her pot roast would be good enough, but I think she's doing a crown roast. Brit's upstairs finishing a school project. She has your determination to earn good grades, so I can't complain." Chris Sr. leaned forward. "Although I think she is more likely chatting with her boyfriend. Nice kid and Brit is responsible, so I trust them." He grinned "But I verify. Can't be too cautious." Chris Sr. stood. "My manners are slipping. Can I offer you a drink. I know both of you are under 21 but this is my house and, in my house, you are adults. I mean you are married. I and your mother married when we were 19. Damn we struggled those first few years while we finished college. I am happy to see that you are better off than we were."

"Since I have met Tom, I am in a daze at how my life has changed. Which leads me to ask if you could be our accountant. I suspect our taxes will be a nightmare with two homes in two states. Although we are paid out of Chicago, some of the income is derived from work in other states and other countries. And now with Tom managing his family estate in England, it is a nightmare I don't want to think about."

"I am sure that my status as heir gives me an income from Thistledown." Tom said. Chris heaved a sigh.

Chris Sr. demeanor switched from parent to accountant. "Yes, I am not versed in international taxes. Do you have mortgages on your two homes?"

"No, paid cash."

Chris Sr. took a heavy glug of his wine. "How?"

"A gift from a friend. I am also the designated executor of his estate and earn some income from that. I can give you our attorney in town to discuss the issue."

"How much do you make a month from modeling? $6 or 7 thousand?"

Tom hid a chuckle. "No, we both do much better than that. Of course, Dreamweavers is paid and then I get a percentage. For a standard one-day shoot, they charge $75,000. For my Ducati contract, Ducati paid one million." Chris Sr. choked. "Tom has his Macey's contract and now we are both on the board, so we earn a salary too. Then there are other miscellaneous incomes from other sources and investments. I was paid $300,000 to settle the sexual harassment case against Slackers--you know the guy I slugged."

"Shit boys, you do need financial help immediately. I'll talk to my boss tomorrow and see if we can write a contract for you. When do you head back to L.A.."

"Tomorrow after noon."

"I hope you boys are not talking business." Helen flounced into the living room wearing a yellow gingham half apron with a frilled edge over Gloria Vanderbilt pull-on jeans and a powder blue cashmere sweater.

"No dear," Chris Sr. quickly said, knowing his wife frowned on working during social events. "Chris was telling me about England."

"We are so excited that we will be able to attend your wedding in whatever the estate is." Helen was giddy with the thought. "Your secretary, Helga called and asked if we would like to fly over and back on the private jet."

Chris wanted to laugh. "Mom, Helga is not the secretary. She is the COO."

Helen did not blink. "That's nice dear. She was very efficient and friendly, so she could have been the secretary."

"Hey, bro. Why didn't any yell that you were here?" Britney rushed over and hugged Chris tightly. "Hey to you to bro-in-law. You keeping my dweeb brother out of trouble."

"Never," Tom kissed Britney on the cheek. "He is incorrigible. Fortunately, he married a man who has the patience of a saint." Both Tom and Britney laughed while Chris slugged Tom in the shoulder. "See."

"Chris behave," Helen scolded her son. "That is no way to treat your spouse." Helen stood uncertain what to do, as Britney took the other chair. "Dinner will be ready in a bit. Would you like to help me Chris?" Chris looked at Tom but went with his mother.

Britney monopolized the conversation in the living room asking about the music video. It was the talk of her school. She had become cool kid number one when Steph let it be known that it was Britney's brother that was playing the piano in the video. Steph also basked in the glory of going at Chris's place in New York. Helen called everyone in for dinner.

The meal was very good. Helen did herself proud which Chris and Tom complimented her on. The conversation was fun. Helen refused to let any conversation be about work, although she did allow questions about Thistledown. Mrs. Woodward, Lord Greenwood's PA, sent a card inviting them to stay at the estate. Helen asked if she needed to curtsey to Tom's grandfather. Tom, much to Helen's disappointment, said a handshake was appropriate. She was even more disappointed when Tom said that the royal family was not expected to attend.

After supper, Helen asked Chris to play the piano like he used to after formal meals with guests. Tom squeezed Chris's hand and then Chris walked to the piano. Chris ran his hand along the keys like caressing an old friend. He noted that the E flat key was out of tune, but said nothing. He played a couple of show tunes, which his mother liked.

"Son," Chris Sr. said as Chris paused. "It is so good to have you home and play for us. I missed you and your playing dreadfully." Chris did not know what to do, so he played his father's favorite song, "Dancing in the Dark".

"Chris, we need to think about leaving. You need to be up early for your interview." Chris silently thanked Tom for the excuse to stop playing before he lost it emotionally. His playing at the piano brought back so many memories both good and bad; it brought back when he felt loved and life felt normal.

"What are you doing an interview for?" Helen asked. When Chris told her, Helen became giddy with excitement. "That is one of the most popular shows in the morning. I've got to tell all my friends so they can watch."

"Helen, it's 10:30 don't you think it is too late to call people?" Chris Sr. gently asked fully expecting Helen to ignore him. Duty done; he said nothing more.

"Oh pish, they don't go to bed this early." She found her phone and started calling. Chris hugged her, and he and Tom said goodnight promising his dad to get the financial information to him soon. On the ride back to the hotel, Chris rested his head on Tom's shoulder, soaking in the strength.

Entering the hotel room, they caught Owen and Zack making out on the sofa. Both jumped up surprised and embarrassed. "I and Tom are going to bed. The car is coming at 6:30. But just carry on." Both boys on the sofa watched Tom and Chris head to the bedroom without a backward glance. They shared a few more kisses and separated for the night. Owen was grinning: he kissed his first boy.

The interview was going well with the usual question when Lola Szwecski shifted in her chair. "My research shows that you suddenly dropped out of high school when you were sixteen. Why?"

Chris knew that at some point his past and present would be brought up, but he did not want to slam his parents, particularly when things were going well. "Your information is correct, Lola. It was, however, a very challenging time in my life. At sixteen we think we know everything and the world is against us. I and my parents had a disagreement about the direction of my life. I left home and dropped out of school. I did not abandon my education because I earned my GED at the same time I would have graduated from high school."

"And you and your parents now?"

"I had dinner at my parents' home last night. We are closer than ever."

"That is gratifying to hear." From the tone Chris knew she was not done.

"My sources say the break with your family was because you are transgender."

Chris gave Lola a withering smile and then looked directly at the camera. "Yes, I am transgender. It is something I not ashamed of. I was unfortunately born with a genetic disorder that gave me a female body and a male soul. A friend of mine, who has a transgender son, said that God gave me the soul of a man but nature made a mistake and gave me the body of a woman." Chris turned to look directly at Lola. "You should understand what I am saying at a more than superficial level. As a teenager, you did not like the size of your breasts. What you saw in the mirror is not who you saw yourself as being. You corrected the issue by having surgery. Now you are more confident and more yourself." Lola looked like she swallowed a puffer fish. "Imagine growing up knowing at a very fundamental level that your whole body is wrong." Chris smiled sweetly, "I'm sure you would like to share your experience on how body image dysmorphia affects one. We can compare notes."

"Thank you Chris for your time discussing your music video." Lola turned to the camera. "We need to break for commercials." She smiled, showing more teeth than necessary. "Who the fuck do you think you are exposing my surgery? How the fuck did you find out?"

"I am sorry if I brought up a sensitive topic, but you swung the door open when you brought up sensitive and personal aspects of my life. If you wanted to discuss my being transgender, ask me before the show. I am not ashamed of being transgender, nor is it a deliberate secret. My family, friends, and employers know and accept me as I am. You hide who you are, afraid that no one will like you if they see the real you. But what I see is one tenacious, driven and talented woman making her way in a world stacked against her. Now, I assume our interview is over. You have a good morning." Chris stood and walked off the set to the applause of the stage crew.

Chris went to the Green Room to collect his coat. "Chris," the program director, a perky woman in slacks and silk blouse, cornered Chris. "I apologize for how Lola handled the interview. I did not know she was going to bring up your personal life. But you handled her well. Our switchboard is swamped with comments. Some are the usual religious cant, but the overall response is extremely positive. No one who saw you today doubts your masculinity, your intelligence, and strength of character." Chris thanked her, feeling better about the show. "How did you know about Lola's chest augmentation?"

"Educated guess. For a woman of her age, they were too perky, too perfect."

"Everybody here has speculated but never brought the issue up. It will be interesting to see what happens now that the cat is out of the bag. The car is waiting for you. I need to get back to the show and thanks for being here today. I think the side rail was more important than the actual show." She was off to take charge of the show.

The driver took Chris to Dreamweavers since they would spend time working on the England project and then fly to L.A.. Tom and Owen were to handle check out and luggage. The driver let Chris off at that door wishing him a good day. Chris was certain that everybody at Dreamweavers saw the show. He only wished they would be forgiving. Helga met him and said to meet in the conference room, and she was off and running.

Chris walked into the conference room; Tom was immediately with him with a bone crushing hug. "How are you doing. You are not too distraught over outing yourself on TV?"

Chris thought about that, but he wasn't upset by what he revealed. This was him and he would not hide himself. "No, not by stating that I'm transgender, but by how I reacted. I could have left her public humiliation out. That was not kind."

"I understand Chris, but you actually were brilliant. You came across as humble, honest, and strong."

"There's my boy," Stu came over to Chris and Tom and grabbed Chris out of Tom's arms into his. "You just keep fucking amazing me. The interview was perfect."

"How?" asked Chris. "The interview shifted away from the main goal to focus on me."

"Look kid, you will find asshole reporters everywhere. The job title seems to breed assholes, but you handled it very well. I am very proud of your restraint and articulation. I assume that you did not see the rest of the show?"

"No, I wanted out before I embarrassed anybody else."

"Then you do not know that they did not cut after Lola said go to a commercial. Her cursing you out was of course bleeped, but it was very easy to fill in the blanks. And your response was not given in anger but with passion. After the commercial, she apologized for how she treated you. And made a joke about her implants and how she was bullied at home and at school by her very small breasts, which made her want the implants. And how a person with gender dysmorphia would hate to look into the mirror. She thanked you for making her see what strengths she has. She would like to have you back on the show to discuss gender dysmorphia because the immediate responses from the audience was for more information." Stu let go and Chris sank into one of the leather chairs; Tom sat next to him, holding his hand.

Helga came into the room carrying a bouquet of yellow roses, white lilies, and large blue phalaenopsis orchids. "These are for you." Helga placed the bouquet in front of Chris. Chris read the card. "Dearest Chris, Thank you for being on my show. I've learned something very important from you. Be yourself and be proud of who you are. I must apologize for how horrid I treated you; you did not deserve it. I was totally in the wrong to blindside you. I let the idea of a scoop interfere with my sense of human worth. To be a truly good interviewer, the second must take precedence. I know that I am not your favorite person; right now I am not mine, but I would love to have you back on the show to discuss whatever you want. Humbly yours, Lola." Chris stood. "Excuse me, I need to make a quick phone call." Chris left the room.

"On to the topic of this meeting. Dreamweavers--Europe," Stu said standing at the head of the table.

Chris returned after fifteen minutes relaxed and smiling. Tom quietly asked if things were good. Chris nodded. Owen, sitting on the other side of Chris, smiled.

"Now that you are back Chris. We need to talk about the photographer you discovered in London. We all agree that we need to hire him ASAP. I will let you arrange that."

"I have his number. I will let him know you want to talk to him when you are over in England. He will be ecstatic. And we will have a phenomenal photographer on staff."

"On another positive note. The L.A. branch will be adding more staff as our contracts are increasing. Because of the success of the music video, we will be adding a production company based in L.A. but it will be flexible to travel." Stu droned on for another hour, followed by Helga, and then Gorky. Adam and Nat gave their respective reports. Lunch came and then Chris, Owen and Tom needed to head to the airport. "It will be nice to be home." Chris whispered to Tom, from their first-class seats. Because of the public fever over the video, Stu did not want Chris subject to any untold distractions from fans.

The LAX airport was a buzz with photographers, who followed the three to the limo waiting for them. Jacob drove them home. "Nice to have you guys back. And who is the new dude?"

Poor Owen, so many more people to meet. Chris thought. But Grandda did want him educated. Chris chuckled to himself. "This is our personal assistant Owen," Tom said. "Owen, this is Jacob. He works at Dreamweavers--West and is attending college." The two exchanged high-fives without shaking since Jacob was driving.

Owen's eyes were glued to the scenery outside the car window: palm trees, the sun setting on the ocean, and traffic were all equally new and exciting. During the flight, Owen sat at the window watching the Rocky Mountains rise as they flew west; he thought that was the most impressive thing he had ever seen, but L.A. was above that. Jacob drove north on the Pacific Coast Highway and turned to head into the foothills where Chris and Tom lived. Jacob stopped at the house gate to punch in the access code. "You have a gated entry?" Owen more stated than asked as the car drove down the wooded drive to the front of the house. Chris was almost as excited as Owen to see the house, to be home.

Jacob helped unload the luggage and lug it into the house. "Where do you want Owen's things?"

"We thought he could sleep in our closet," Tom teased. Owen knew by now that Tom liked to tease, but a closet would be fine.

"No, take his stuff to the first guest bedroom, since we don't have servants' quarters. That will also put him close to the kitchen."

"Yes, that is the second-best bedroom in the house. Has a killer bath." Tom added, both Chris and Tom followed Owen and Jacob to the bedroom. Owen's eyes were everywhere soaking in the far more modern house and furnishing than Thistledown's staider decor. Jacob kicked open the double doors to the suite. Owen staggered as he saw, the luxury he was not accustomed to.

"This will be your suite, Owen, while we are in L.A.. It was originally the media room, but Chaz moved us to the other side of the house."

Owen slowly perambulated the room, stopping at the French doors leading to the lower patio. "There is a swimming pool outside my door." Owen was in awe. "A bloody swimming pool." Owen turned around to face Chris and Tom. "Hagen is going to be so jealous. I need to send pictures." Owen pulled his phone out, but then thought better; it would be gloating, not a kind thing to do.

"This is your bathroom" Tom has steered Owen to the pimped-out bathroom.

"This is all mine? I don't have to share?"

"Of course, you will need to share." Tom said harshly. "Anyone you share your bed with will need to share your bathroom." Tom grinned while Owen grasped Tom's comment. Owen suddenly blushed.

"We need to get a keyed lock for the door so Owen can have his space kept private."

Back in the kitchen, they all sat. Chris invited Jacob for supper. Tom ordered pizza. Jacob brought Tom and Chris up to speed on the happenings in L.A. and what to expect when they went into work the next morning. Chris had three appointments to meet potentially new clients. Tom has a photoshoot in Long Beach at Terminal Island. Both should be home by 5. Owen, with Beach's help, would learn the house. They had pizza in the family room, watching "A Very Murray Christmas" on Netflix. Jacob left, saying he would be back at 8:30 to pick Chris and Tom up for work. The three sat decompressing, saying little as they sipped a second glass of wine, until Chris stood and pulled Tom after him to their bedroom. "See you in the morning Owen. If you have any questions, ask Beach."

The weekend, Chris and Owen spent with Bette, Tracey and his boyfriend Gab buying Christmas Decorations even though they would only spend less than ten days in Los Angeles before heading to England. Chris needed to talk to Tom about throwing a holiday party while in L.A. and one after the first of the year in New York.

Monday, Chris was nervous. He stood as his transition surgeon, Dr. Aloysius Janseens, a light skinned African American of about Chris's height, entered the exam room. "Please sit Mr. Wentworth. Dr Sturgeon sent me his notes, which are complete. This will make this visit shorter." Dr. Janseens glanced over at Tom, but did not introduce himself. "The notes say you had a radical mastectomy in Chicago about a year ago. From Dr. Sturgeon's notes, it was competently done with minimal scarring."

Chris started to talk, but the Doctor held his hand up to be silent. "You are currently on testosterone implants. The notes say you are starting to develop male characteristics and your ovaries are shrinking." He flipped a few pages of notes. "I see one psychological examination from Dr. Marchel. You will need a second, which we can schedule after the first of the year. It says your occupation is a model." He looked up at Chris, recognized Chris, but said nothing. "Many models opt for only top surgery to prolong their careers. I assume that is not your concern."

"No Sir," Chris jumped in. "I need the full reassignment for my mental health. My career is secondary."

Dr. Janseens looked up from his notes to study Chris. "That we can do." He smiled at Chris, actually smiled. "I gather that you have researched the procedures for gender confirmation surgery?"

"Yes, since I was thirteen and had my first period." Chris grasped Tom's hand for support. "It eventually led to a suicide attempt. And destructive psychiatric intervention."

"May I ask what the treatment was that was so destructive."

"The psychologist insisted that I be treated like a girl, dress like a girl in dresses at all times until the phase passed, and I found myself a good husband and had children."

"Yes, that is not standard treatment protocol. Gender dysphoria is a real medical condition that needs compassionate treatment. You will get that here, I promise you." Some of his harsh exterior started to melt. "Now introduce me to the man with you." Chris introduced Tom as his husband. "Good to meet you Tom. It is not very many men who would stand beside a man like Chris and the surgery he needs."

"Doctor, I love Chris. He is the most amazing man I have ever met. If reassignment surgery helps him be happy and whole, I will stand beside him through the whole process. I am not naive to think this will be easy for either of us, but seeing the way he suffers now. Let's get this done."

Dr. Janseens looked from Chris to Tom and back again. "I see many potential patients who think gender reassignment is trendy. I refuse to do the surgery on them. You both are realistic and committed. I cannot perform surgery until the second psych eval is completed. Dr. Havranek is one of the best psychotherapists around. A little about the surgery, although I will go into greater detail closer to the surgery date. I will perform a full hysterectomy, removing the ovaries, vaginectomy, removal of the vagina, stretch the urethra, and perform metaoidioplasty--elongate the clitoris for sexual satisfaction, and a few other nips and tucks to make the penis fully functional."

"Why metoidioplasty as opposed to phalloplasty?" Chris asked.

"By using the clitoris as the foundation of the penis, you will be able to achieve an orgasm. Also, the surgery has fewer risks." Dr. Janseens looked at Tom. "The penis will be small, only 3 or four inches, but may grow slightly with further testosterone treatments, sexual penetration may not be possible. Some of my patients use a strap-on to enhance sexual satisfaction."

"I am not concerned about the size of Chris's penis but that he feels wholly male, that his gender dysphoria be cured."

"The surgery will help with gender dysphoria, but my experience is that it never truly goes away. Dr. Havranek can tell you more. I'll give you a list of resources to review and discuss." He stood to dismiss the two. "I think Chris that you are an excellent candidate for surgery. If you get back to me by Wednesday on your decision, I can schedule surgery for the end of January. I have every confidence that Dr. Havranek will weigh in on you having surgery." He walked them to the exam room door. "Have a good day gentlemen."

"Let's go to lunch and then back to the office. We can discuss this tonight when our thoughts are not racing." Tom took Chris by the elbow and guided him to their car.

Chris reluctantly agreed though his thoughts were racing. Surgery was always a future goal, now it was a slap in the face reality. Now he had qualms. What was wrong with him. Lunch did not reduce Chris's anxiety, but the demands of work helped push it to a nagging ache.

That night, with a fire in the fireplace in the family room, Chris snuggled into Tom's arms, who, by saying nothing, provided I-beams of support. He would be fine. This is what he needed, no matter how scary. To not have the surgery would be death despite the love of Tom, family, and friends, who loved him however he looked. But in his core he knew he was a fraud; the surgery would fix that.

"Chris, Tom," Owen interrupted their coziness. "I have over twenty invitations to Christmas parties. Most I have replied that you would be out of town, but there are three I am not sure of."

"Who are these?" Tom asked, lifting his head from off of Chris's. "We are likely not to attend any."

"Mr. and Mrs. Powell. They seem to be close friends so I didn't respond. It is Friday December 18 at 7:30 PM. Malvia Strickland, for Saturday, December 19, at 7:30. I know we will be flying back to England, but I thought you might want to personally reply. And the LGBT center for this Wednesday at 7:00 PM."

"Respond affirmative the LBGT center. Do you have contact information for Malvia? I will call her and the Powells offering our regrets."

"I have already added it to our contacts."

Chris pulled up his phone as Owen handed Chris the invitations. There was a Malvia's direct number. "I'll call from the office." Chris left the family room.

"Tom, is Chris OK. Did the doctor visit go well? Chris seems tense."

"Everything is fine Owen. Chris has wanted this surgery for so long that now that it is a reality, nerves are setting in. He is a very strong person and will do what he knows he needs to do. What he needs is our support and love."

"Easy enough to give him that." Owen curled himself into a chair like a cat, sipped a glass of wine and watched a movie with Tom.

"I gave our regrets, but once we are back, she wants us over for dinner." Tom nodded, but his attention was on the exploding buildings on the TV. Chris, stifled a chuckle and resumed his place next to Tom.

The Dreamweavers--West Christmas party was scheduled for that Friday afternoon. Chris and Tom could attend for a bit before leaving for the airport for their 8:00 PM flight to London. Nat gave Christmas wishes from Stu and Helga, distributed bonuses, which Tom and Chris would not receive since they were board members and officially working out of the Chicago office although they were on assignment in L.A. and London.