Dylans Senior Year at College

DYLAN'S SENIOR YEAR AT COLLEGE

Chapter 57

by Donny Mumford

Rob, Danny, and I are on our way to J & M's sub shop in downtown North Andover for lunch. Two of us, meaning Rob and me, just got haircuts so now it's only our barber, Danny, who's in need of a haircut. Yeah, heh heh, we look like preppy nerds with preppy short haircuts although short hairstyles aren't uncommon on our college campus, but then neither is Danny's ragamuffin head of hair. Anything goes nowadays.

Rob asks Danny, "What was that confrontation you had in your dorm all about?" Danny shrugs, "It was nothing much. I lost my shit momentarily because Dwight Turner pissed me off once too often, the ingrate." Robby goes, "Whaddaya mean?" And Danny says, "I've given that asshole free haircuts all year and he had the balls to tell me I was inconveniencing him by taking my time with your boyfriend's haircut. Jesus, as if I'm obligated to accommodate his schedule... fuck him!" Rob mutters, "No good deed goes unpunished. You know that, right?"

Inside J & M's sub shop we order cheesesteaks and then eat in the shop at a table with a sticky top. I always think it's a bad idea eating in a sub shop because the smell of fried onions from the grille gets in your clothes and hair, and then the stink stays with you the rest of the day. When we're walking out of the sub shop I'm like, "Didn't I tell you numbnuts we're gonna smell like a sub shop? Go ahead, smell your jacket." Danny chuckles and tries to rub my head but I pull my head back as Rob says, "Did you want us to eat in the truck and get the pickup smelling like a sub shop?"

When we're getting in the truck Danny's giggling and elbowing me away from the front passenger door so he can ride shotgun again. I answer Rob's question, saying, "No, not eat in the pickup. I wanted to eat at Bertucci's." He goes, "Yeah, but they don't have subs there, do they?" He's got a point.

With Rob getting the last word on that topic, we continue the conversation we were having during lunch about how much money we'll give toward the senior class gift. We all got an email from a class representative, someone none of us ever heard of, about leaving a legacy at the college from our graduating class... a class gift. That same bullshit happened when we graduated high school. According to the email, the last Merrimack graduating class donated an average of $300 per graduating student. In small print, it clarified that the $300 was the average of the 47 percent of the class who donated. Well, obviously that means 53 percent gave nothing!

After giving some thought to mimicking last year's 53 percent of the class, we kinda settle on maybe donating a hundred dollars each. Then, instead of me giving Danny a haircut here, he decides he'll bring his barber clippers home and I'll do it there. This is Easter weekend so we'll only be home Saturday and Sunday although Rob and I don't have a class on Monday so we can make it a three-day weekend if we want to.

Rob parks near dormitory row, saying, "Get your stuff, Danny, and then Dylan and I will get a few things at the apartment and we'll be on our way home." I'm like, "Do ya need any help, Danny?" Rob goes, "Oh, no you don't. You stay put, babe. The two of you getting his shit will take twice as long as Danny doing it alone." Well, what the hell does that mean? It's not worth arguing about though, and I don't feel like getting out of the pickup anyway, this back seat is wicked comfortable. Plus, I kinda liked Rob's bossy tone just now... haha. I go, "Nice back seat in this truck, Robert." He says, "Is it? I haven't sat back there yet."

Danny gets out, mumbling, "I'll be back in five minutes," but he only jogs ten feet before stopping to talk with a couple of guys. Two minutes later the three of them are laughing their nuts off and bumping fists. Rob goes, "Fuck!" and I'm like, "If I was with him I'd get him moving along." He mutters under his breath and then turns around to look at me, "Dad texted you, right, babe?" Shrugging, I'm like, "No! Your dad has never texted me. Your mom texts me though." He nods, "Yeah, um, I know, but damn, Dad texted me to say he's going to talk with you this weekend about working for his company. I assumed he texted you too." I go, "Well, he didn't. If he's gonna talk to me, why'd he text you?" Rob goes, "Apparently to tell me I'm not invited to sit in when he talks with you." Hmm, I feel weird about this, "Well, why the hell can't you be there?"

Rob's back glaring at Danny who's still yucking it up with the same two guys. After muttering, "Goddammit," he sticks his head out the window and yells, "Danny, come on, dude... what the fuck? We wanna get going!" Danny waves and again bumps fists with the guys and then walks on down toward his dorm. Looking back at me, Rob goes, "I don't know why he didn't text you. I told him I definitely should be in the meeting, but he never texted back. He never texts me so it was kinda weird. I think he just learned how. Or maybe he used text messaging because he didn't want to hear me arguing about not being in the meeting with you."

Now I'm nervous, but trying to be cool about it, so I'm like, "Well, why do you think he doesn't want you there and what should I, ya know, say during his talk? What if he's still on that human resources bullshit?" Rob goes, "Well, first of all, don't tell him that! He doesn't think it's bullshit. You worked for HR last summer." I mumble, "Yeah, but, um, no, not really. I was on my own last summer. And, duh, obviously I won't say it's bullshit. So, what should I say?"

Rob looks down dormitory row but Danny's still inside his dorm. Making a huffy sound, he looks back at me, "Um, you can mention you're interested in, um... well, what are you interested in?" I go, "How the fuck should I know? That's why I'm asking you. Not anything to do with lawn cutting! That's all I know for certain." He frowns, mumbling, "Don't be ridiculous... this is serious." I mutter, "I know that," and he's like, "If I knew what Dad had in mind for me, I could better advise you what to say." I ask, "You want me to work for you, right?" He shrugs, "No, I mean, well actually, yes. What's wrong with that?"

Huh, nothing's wrong with it, I guess. It sure seems the easiest route for me to take, working under Robby. Yeah, but that seems wrong too, um, somehow. I go, "I know what you said about having all that experience working in the company and all, but shouldn't I have an equal job to any other college graduate. You know, instead of me working for another newly-hired recent college graduate, like yourself for example." Robby goes, "Yes, if it were any other college graduate other than me, then I'd agree with you. The fact is though, I DO have all that experience with the company so I'm not just some 'other college grad', not as far as Dickers & Son is concerned anyway."

That kinda makes sense. I nod, mumbling, "Yeah, okay, but I still don't know what to tell your dad." He's thinking and then says, "Here's what you do. First, don't say anything. He called the meeting, not you. Let him talk and find out what he has in mind. After hearing him out, tell him that's very interesting and thank him, but say you need to think about it."

Huh, yeah, I suppose. No, that's too simple... it won't be that easy. I'm nodding my head as though I agree, as I say, "No, that sounds too, um, easy, and ungrateful or something. I don't wanna say that." He goes, "Why not? That's what anyone would say! Say thank you and then..." I emphatically say, "No!" Rob looks down dormitory row again and, not seeing Danny, he goes, "Alright, here's a little different way you can say basically the same thing. When dad's done saying whatever he wants to say, you ask if he'd mind if you take some time to mull it over. Asking if he minds will take all the negativity on your part out of the equation." I go, "What if he says he minds?" Exasperated, Robby goes, "Oh, for Christ sake, he won't say that! It's perfectly normal for people to think about shit before making a decision in the business world."

Here comes Danny's now. He struggling with a full duffle bag of stuff. He opens the back door behind the driver's seat, as Robby goes, "No, Danny! Jesus, be careful of Dylan's and my things hanging there." We have sports coats and slacks on hangers, although we're positive we won't need them. Danny pushes our clothes to the side and then sees our satchel on the floor, so he puts his duffle bag on the bucket seat next to me, smiling and saying, "Don't be snooping through my shit, Dylan." I laugh even though that wasn't especially funny. Danny's so cool though...

Robby asks, "How in the hell could you have a full duffle bag of stuff to take home for one day?" Danny mumbles, "Dirty clothes..." and then, "Oh, balls! I forgot the barber stuff and my toiletry kit," and he takes off jogging back down dormitory row as Rob mutters under his breath. I'm like, "I should have helped him."

A minute of silence and then Rob says, "Dylan, don't worry about the damn interview with my dad...it'll be fine." I'm like, "Interview? Is that what I'm having with your dad, a job interview?" Rob scratches his nose, saying, "Actually, I don't know what he wants to talk to you about. I'm assuming it's about the job because we've only got like three and a half weeks before we're outta here," as he waves his arm indicating the whole campus. Oh fuck, he's right. Three and a half weeks... Jesus!

Five minutes later Danny's climbing in the passenger seat holding a small satchel and his toiletry kit back toward me, saying, "Will you put these in the top of my duffle bag, please?" I nod and take both things from him. Opening the small satchel I see my, um, what used to be my barbering stuff. Gee, it's very clean. There's even a sheen of oil on the clipper blades. As I'm shoving both items on top of Danny's dirty clothes in the duffle bag, I ask him, "So, Danny-boy, what kind of haircut are you gonna want?" He mutters, "I don't know," and then he asks, "What are you guys gonna do after dinner tonight?"

We talk about that as Rob drives us onto Route 125. Looking out the window I'm wondering what my mom, Tris, and the guys are doing in Italy right now. Hmm, what time is it there? It's a five hour time difference, but are they ahead of us or behind? Hmm, I'm sure they're ahead of us so it's around eight at night in Italy. Italy, wow!

Robby and Danny are talking baseball and I'm looking at the backs of their heads feeling love for both of them. Different kinds of love for those two and then another kind of love for mom, Tris, and the twins having Easter in Italy. Of course, I have a very special kind of love for my brother too. It makes me feel really good thinking about all the love I feel in my heart. Still, I know I'd rather be right here than in Italy. As cool as it'll be to travel the world someday I wouldn't switch places with anyone right now because of the two guys in the front seat and Chubby, who's staying on campus for Easter.

Rob drives to Danny's house. As he's getting out of the pickup Danny thanks Rob for the ride home as I'm like, "Yo, Danny, when do you want me to do your haircut?" He goes, "Oh, um, I'll text you, okay?" I hold Rob's and my clothes to the side as Danny drags his duffle bag out of the back seat with me asking him, "Um, don't you think you'll want your haircut before dinner?" He goes, "I don't know, I'll text you." Christ, I hardly ever get to do anyone's haircut anymore, and doing Danny's... oh boy!

I watch him dragging his duffle bag up to his front walk as I'm thinking how he's far less interested in his haircut than I am. Well, that's obvious! Why doesn't that surprise me? As much as I want to do it for him, I'm not asking him again... the hell with it. Rob goes, "Do you wanna hop up front, babe?" I go, "No thanks, drive on my good man. I like sitting back here."

At the house, Rob parks where he always parks and I grab our clothes, the ones on hangers, then get the satchel in my other hand and get out. Robby says, "I'll take the clothes on hangers, Dylan." We go in the house through the back door and see his mom is not in the kitchen for once, but she comes from the family room when she hears the door slam. She's all smiles saying, "Hi boys!" and then a big hug for Rob and a peck on the cheek as he says, "Hello, Mother dear. Yes, we're home again. How are you?" She says, "I'm wonderful, darling," and then, "Hello, Dylan," and now I'm getting a hug.

That taken care of, Mrs. Dickers says what I expect, which is, "Are you guys hungry?" Rob says, "Nope, we ate a late lunch. Can't you smell it on our clothes?" and he smirks at me. His mom says, "Yes, you smell like Jimmy's hoagie shop". Jimmy's is the sub shop they go to when they're getting subs for lunch, which is rare. The interesting thing to me is Mrs. D. called it a 'hoagie' shop. She's originally from Philly and that's what they call sub shops in the city of brotherly love. Hey, maybe Chub and I should live there.

Mrs. D. next says what I actually thought she'd say first, she says, "You two are so handsome and I love your haircuts." Rob goes, "Yes, we know, mom," and then to me, he's like, 'C'mon, babe, let's take this shi... um, stuff up to our room and get out of these smelly clothes." As we walk through the kitchen he tells his mom, "I wanted to eat at Bertucci's so our clothes wouldn't get all stinky from fried onions." I say, "That's a lie, Mrs. Dickers. I wanted to eat at Bertucci's." She's got her cell phone out hitting someone's number, saying, "I believe you, Dylan," and Rob goes, "MOM!" and she chuckles and says, "Well, I do," and then into the phone, she says, "Hi, Marty. Guess who just walked in my kitchen." Then, "How'd you guess and, yes, they both look very handsome." She listens and says, "Uh huh, but as far as Debra goes, I'm not sure I agree we need flowers at every table, but..."

That's all we hear as we go upstairs with Robby saying, "She believed you, ya brown-noser." I go, "She believes me because I don't lie." We change our shirts and then take a piss standing next to one another with Robby saying, "Now that we're home I'm gonna fuck your brains out, just like I said I would." I go, "If only I was strong enough to fight you off, but I know I'm not, so I'll do whatever you say, sir." He goes, "Yeah, I like hearing that from you and it's exactly the kind of thing I expect you to tell me when you're my wife." I yell, "HEY, YOU!"

We're zipping up our flies as Robby snickers and mumbles, "Yes, wife, you wanna say something?" I go, "Yeah, you said you'd never call me your wife," and he snickers again and goes, "Maybe I lied," and then he tries pulling my pants down with me complaining, "You said you'd fuck my brains out in our bed." He's got my pants down, giggling and muttering, "Maybe I lied again."

We're wrestling and now I'm snickering too. That's until Robby grabs my cock and pulls it, then he bends over and licks it. I stop jostling with him and murmur, "That's more like it." He sinks to his knees and continues licking and sucking the head of my cock and, oh man, does my dick ever get hard fast. He's doing everything fast too and within thirty seconds there's spit dripping off his chin and I'm biting my lip going, "Um, um, ooh." He's got one arm around my ass, his other hand gripping the base of my hard cock as his mouth does amazing things, but still only to the head.

"Aaah, aaah," and with my fingers in his short hair destroying his pompadour, Rob begins stroking my boner while his tongue is swirling around the swollen head. His magical tongue slides around it, and around it again, as he's stroking, stroking, stroking the shaft. His tongue never stops going around, and around, and around the swollen head as I'm pulling his hair, my head back and I can't even speak until I'm up on my toes, squeaking out, "Robby, I'm gonna cum, aah, ooh." And then I do... a nice long stream of cum that I never see 'cause it all shoots inside his mouth. I see his small Adam's apple bob as he swallows once, twice, and then a little final Adam's apple bob as the last remnants of my spunk gets swallowed.

Omigod, my whole body shudders as another little streak of cum buzzes up my boner and out into Rob's mouth... there's always that last straggling bit of spunk, the last spurt to get the message the train is leaving. I'm shaking a little as Rob does a few more licks and then he takes my cock out of his mouth and lets go of it. As he's standing up wiping his chin with the back of his hand and grinning, he says, "I was thinking I'd fuck your brains out in our bed tonight, not now! Did you think I meant now?" I shake my head grabbing my cock to stroke it as I mutter, "No! I knew you meant tonight." He snickers and hugs me, muttering, "Now who's lying?" I hug back with one arm, my other hand still squeezing my dick 'cause... Goddamn, that felt good!

Robby pushes my hand away from my dick, saying, "Don't play with yourself. You're too old for that," and, chuckling, he pulls up my jockey shorts and then my jeans as I mumble, "You're awesome, boyfriend! That felt good," then I squeeze by junk, murmuring, "Ahhh." Rob turns on the sink faucets, saying, "Tasted good too."

As we're washing our face and hands, I keep bumping his side and grinning at him. After we've dried our face and hands, Robby puts his arm around my shoulders, asking, "What do you feel like doing now, babe?" I shrug and say, "How 'bout if I suck your dick now, ya know, like a good wife should for his man." Robby goes, "That's the spirit darling!" as we walk out of the bathroom. 'Wife' for 'his' man... huh, that doesn't sound right, does it? Not yet, anyway...

In our bedroom, I say, "You're not serious about the wife thing, are you?" He puts both arms around me and pulls me to him, face to face, and says, "I need to think about it." I mutter, "Oh, so you might be serious?" and he kisses me and I kiss him back. We hug and sway side to side a little. When we let go of each other, I say, "I'd never call you my wife 'cause everyone would laugh at me." He says, "No they wouldn't, but you won't need to worry about that."

I'm like, "Have you had a chance to think about that other thing I mentioned? The thing about me sucking your cock." He nods, 'Yes, I have, and I think it's a good idea." I drop to my knees, my dick still wet with his spit. On my knees, I go, "I don't do this as often as I should for my man." I'm pulling his zipper down and fishing inside there with two fingers, Robby rubs my hair, mumbling, "I'm sure you'll be more conscientious about doing this when you're my wife."

Holding Rob's fat cock in my fingers I look up, saying, "Okay. I get it... you're pretending to just be joking around now, but your ulterior motive is to get me used to you calling me your wife." He mumbles, "I can't sneak anything by you, can I?" I don't reply to that because first of all, I don't think that's what he's doing, and second of all his cock is in my mouth and it's a major mouthful... so I couldn't talk if I wanted to.

And, yes, I like sucking a cute guy's cock. I've never pretended otherwise. How could I pretend I don't like doing it when my first time sucking cock was fat Carl's and he was gross, and definitely not cute but after a minute I was slobbering all over that smelly cock of his. So, if I would do that for a gross looking guy with a smelly cock, a cute guy's cock is like a strawberry ice cream cone by comparison. And I just realized I'd rather have a cute guy's cock in my mouth than a strawberry ice cream cone. And here's a footnote regarding fat Carl, he got handsome after high school when his face cleared up and he lost weight. It's rare to get better looking when a guy gets older, but he did. His personality never changed though... he was always a mean prick, and as far as I know, he still is.

Robby rubs his fingers in my new haircut again as I'm doing magic tricks on his cock with my lips and tongue, plus a little of Pony's tricks with my bottom teeth scraping along the shaft. Oh man, that gets Rob going, "Ah, ah, ah..." His fat log of a cock gets hard and then harder still as he quietly grunts and shuffles his feet and now I've got a boner too, another one.

First I taste pre-cum and not long after that, Rob goes, "Ooooh," his hips hump and with a strangle-sounding moan of, "Uuooogh," from Rob, cum shoots in my mouth and then, "Oooh, ummm," from him as another load of cum shoots out with me swallowing quickly and trying not to let any of the gooey substance get in my sinuses.

Robby steps back groaning, "Ooh fuck, mmm. Damn...whew...," as he squeezes his dick and I swallow again. Standing up, I'm like, "Now we're even." He nods his head with a grin on his lips, and mumbles, "Whoa, nice. Holy shit. Hey.... holy shit that was... um... I can't catch my fucking breath, um... you never disappoint. You're the best at that, babe. Damn!" and he squeezes his dick again forcing out a bubble of creamy cum.

Oh man, I love extemporaneous sex... oral or otherwise. That was awesome! Robby's wiping my spit off his dick with a couple of Kleenex as I sit at the desk, asking, "So, Rob, when do you think your dad is going to talk with me?" He snorts out a laugh, and mumbles, "So much for the sex, huh?" He puts his dick away and zippers his fly, saying, "I don't know, Dylan, but I'm sure it'll be here at the house and not at the office. All I know for sure is, he doesn't want me there when he's talking to you." Rubbing my face, I mumble, "I'm nervous about this," and Rob goes, "Don't be, Dylan. My dad really likes you and, hell, mom likes you more than me." Standing up, I mutter, "Don't be ridiculous. Damn, I don't know what I'm supposed to say to your dad!" Robby goes, "Let him talk... then you answer his questions, or whatever. You don't need to plan on saying anything! Be yourself."

Be myself? I'm not sure what 'myself' is half the time. Looking at my watch, I mutter, "It's five o'clock and no word from Danny. I guess he doesn't want a haircut today." Rob shrugs 'cause he doesn't give a shit about that. He says, "Whatever. He brought the barber clippers and stuff home with him, so..." I mutter, "He probably wants to do that Terrence kid's haircut and his little brother. Ya know, Hayden's next door neighbors."

No response from Rob because, as I said, he isn't interested in that, so I ask, "Um, do you think your dad will talk to me tonight?" Rob shrugs, "Doing it on Easter doesn't sound real professional so, yeah, today would be my guess. Will you stop worrying about it!" Blowing out my cheeks, exhaling noisily, I go, "Easy for you to say...." Rob goes, "Hey, let's grab a beer and have a cigarette in the pool house. You need to chill out..."

Downstairs we find his mom in the kitchen starting dinner. She says, "Dad called. He wanted to know if you guys were home yet." Then looking at me, she says, "Well, he actually asked if you were home yet, dear." Robby goes, "Mom, do you or dad recall which one of us is the son here, and which one is the boyfriend of the son?" Mrs. D. and I both ignore that as I go, "Oh?" She pats my shoulder, saying, "Yes, dear, he wants to talk with you when he gets home tonight." Rob's getting beers from the refrigerator, saying, "We already know that, mother! Dad texted me yesterday to tell me." She mutters, "I didn't realize he knew how to text." I look at Rob with a frown on my face, because... he knew about this yesterday? Well, I'm actually glad he didn't tell me until today. Saves me a day of worrying about it.

Passing me a beer, Rob looks over his mom's shoulder, asking, "So, what's for dinner tonight, mother dear?" She says, "Stuffed pork chops but we're not eating until seven. Your father will be home in about forty-five minutes and he'll want his two cocktails before dinner, and I suppose he'll talk to Dylan before dinner too. Dinner could be delayed beyond seven. Have a snack, sweetheart." Robby looks at me and nods his head at the door, saying to his mom, "We'll be in the pool house smoking pot, getting high." She says, "Yes, dear," obviously not paying close attention. Or maybe she was listening but us smoking pot doesn't bother her. Maybe her and the mister get higher than a kite can fly smoking joints every night. Probably not though, and we're not gonna be smoking pot anyway.

I'm getting looney because of this 'talk' with Mr. Dickers. I wish I could be cool about something like this the way Chubby would be. In the pool house, I ask, "Should I turn on the space heater?" Robby throws a dart at the dartboard, mumbling, "If you want to, but it's not that cold in here." I go over and sit on a barstool and worry about Mr. Dicker's talk. To try getting my mind off that I think about the haircuts I've given guys in here with them sitting on this same stool I'm sitting on. Actually, it's mostly been me getting haircuts in here sitting on this stool. That goes back to last spring when Robby was our barber, and not a very good one either. Yeah, early in the summer he gave it up and Danny took over the barbering duties. Thinking about those days is more fun than thinking about Mr. Dickers' 'talk'.

I snap out of my daydreaming when I hear Rob yell, "BULLSEYE!" Glancing over at him, he goes, "Come on, babe. Let's play darts." Remaining on the bar stool, I take a big gulp of beer and say, "Ya know why I'm so fucked-up about this 'talk' with your dad?" Robby's holding a dart looking at me. He goes, "No, I don't know, and you shouldn't be. I already told you my parents love you. There's nothing to worry about... really!" I say, "Yes there is! The reason I'm worried is that I'll more than likely slip up and say something really stupid and your dad will find out I'm a fraud, that I have no confidence and I lucked-out in Hartford when a couple of things went my way. Sure, I'll be a hard worker if someone tells me what to do, but I'm not an innovator or motivator or leader like you."

He comes over and hugs my shoulders, saying, "You're talking yourself into negative thinking, babe. Jesus, don't count yourself out before you get up to bat! And, hell, we're both entering into something completely different than anything we've experienced before, and it's not just you. All us graduates are looking right in the face at what's called the real world out there. We'll need to earn a living and hopefully a lot more than that but to do so we'll face new experiences all the time. Nothing to worry about though." I look at him like he's crazy. "Robby, is that supposed to make me less nervous?"

He says, "This will... you and I are in a small percentage of the lucky ones. We're sort of set up for success because we're going to be working for my dad's company. He's not gonna let us fail and, hell, you might wind up being better than me at, um, maybe reorganizing a shitty operation within the company, or opening a new office, or whatever. The point is we won't know until we've tried it. And, Gawd, Dylan, it wasn't lucky things working out for you, it was YOU who took the initiative that made the new benefits presentations work and especially in the way you, yes YOU handled that Hartford office debacle. Everybody said you did awesomely, so there's no reason for you to think you can't be successful... there really isn't. Everything points to quite the opposite actually."

Grinning, I say, "Thanks, Robby... good talk! Um, of course, your confidence in me is exactly why I want to work for you... haha." He goes, "Yeah, well, that's what I'd love too. Be positive, but not cocky, um, as I said before, be yourself. You're a winner, baby!" Nodding my head, I mutter, "Okay, I'm good... let's shoot some darts. Good talk!" We both smile as he mumbles, "Fuck, I'm nervous too," and we both laugh. He's not nervous!

It's great Robby feels that way but I gotta accept the possibility I might not even get hired by Dickers & Son. Nobody but Rob has ever said anything about me being guaranteed a job and Mr. D. is a businessman and might feel, for Rob's and my benefit, it's not a good idea we both work for the company. He might be doing tough love or some shit like that for our benefit. So I might need to depend on the twins, Tom and Timmy, who both told me at different times that I definitely have a job with their company, so I got that going for me.

Hmm, the problem with that is, it doesn't feel like I'll have earned a job or qualified for whatever position they'd give me. It'd be mostly nepotism because Tom's marrying my mom. Do I care about that? Hmm, yeah, stupidly I sorta do. Not the part about Tom marrying my mom, I love that part. I kinda would rather not depend on the nepotism part where at Dickers & Son I have a track record and feel I earned a spot there. But, if the worst-case scenario is necessary, maybe the nepotism part won't be so bad after all.

Rob has another beer, but I wave the offer of a second beer off. Not with the 'talk' looming over my head. I smoke a cigarette while shooting darts and then Rob and I are arguing who won because we both kept score in our head, although with different results. I would have liked beating Robby at something. We call it a draw when we hear Mr. Dickers' car pulling into the driveway.

We go out to meet him and Mr. Dickers gives us his usual greeting which isn't exactly exuberant but includes half a smile, and he seems kinda glad to see us. His greetings always lack the excitement Mrs. D. shows when seeing Rob and me. Not having any experience with a father 'figure' myself, Mr. Dickers' greeting seems fine to me and Rob's never complained about it. He seems perfectly fine with it so I've gotta assume it's within a normal 'greeting' range from a father.

The three of us go in the back door together and then Mr. and Mrs. Dickers have a quick almost-kiss greeting along with their hug. Mrs. D. says, "I do not know why you had to work all day, Robert. I mean, it's the Saturday before Easter!" He mumbles, "Yes, Em, it's the Saturday before Easter and I kinda already knew that but there's this little situation where I've got this hundred million dollar project beginning in two months and I thought I'd kinda check on a few aspects of that, um... what's for dinner?" He's wearing a sports coat without a tie. The briefcase he's carrying is bulging with, um, probably print-outs.

Mrs. D. describes briefly the stuffed pork chops she's making for dinner as Rob and I stand here waiting for... well, I don't know what we're waiting for. Waiting for Mr. Dickers to tell me to meet him in his office I suppose. That doesn't appear to be on his mind right now though, as he says, "Stuffed pork chops sound good, Emily, but first I need something. Hmm, what would that be?" As she's peeling a potato, Mrs. D. chuckles, saying, "I'll have what you're having, Robert." Mr. Dickers says, "Ah, yes, cocktails," and he holds his briefcase out to me, saying, "Make yourself useful, Dylan, and take this into my office for me." I take it, mumbling, "Yes, Sir, sure, um... ah, should I wait for you there?" He says, "Why would you do that, son? Oh, I see. No, we'll talk later, Dylan," and he pats my shoulder, saying, 'Thanks," meaning thanks for taking his briefcase to his office, I assume.

Robby walks with me to his dad's home office, asking, "Do you think we should have a cocktail before dinner?" I shake my head, "Not me. Sooner or later your dad is gonna have our 'talk' and I need to be alert." He goes, "Good thinking. I won't have one either although I'd like... well, no, I'm not gonna have one if you don't."

After I drop the briefcase next to Mr. Dickers' desk, Rob and I go into the family room. He turns on the TV and switches the channel to ESPN but we don't watch it. I tell him, "I'm feeling better about talking with your dad. Yeah, your fucking pep talk helped a lot. Good fucking talk in the pool house!" He snickers, saying, "Glad I could help but try keeping the 'F-bombs' to a minimum during the interview. That's generally a good tactic." I raise my eyebrows, saying, 'Good tip, Robby," and we snicker again.

Mr. Dickers treats me the same as I've noticed him treating Dodger and Robby over the years. That resonated with me a few minutes ago when, without giving it a thought, Mr. D. told me to take his briefcase to his office. Surprisingly, that actually calmed me down about the upcoming interview. I was closest to him when he handed the briefcase to me, but if Rob was closer he'd have been handed the briefcase along with the same request I got from his dad.

Rob's looking into a mirror on the wall, messing with his hair, mumbling, "That fucker Danny is a helluva a good barber." I go, 'Hey!" and he turns around grinning and saying, "Well, he is. Oh... haha, yeah, you're good too, babe," and he sits next to me on the sofa, saying, "And your haircut looks awesome on you. I like your short haircut because it's all-boy, ya know? Still, I wonder how you'd look with a ponytail." I mutter, "Oh, sure... riiiight!" We goof around as I hear Rob's parents talking in the kitchen while they drink their cocktails. I like the way they get along.

A half-hour later I begin smelling the stuffed pork chops in the oven. Mostly the stuffing is what I smell... the poultry seasoning specifically. I say to Rob, "We'll be eating shortly," and explain that stuffed pork chops should only take twenty minutes in a hot oven, say 400 degrees. He mutters, "I can't remember the last time mom made stuffed pork chops. I hope hers are as good as yours." Omigod, that makes me feel good!

Ten minutes later we get called for dinner and the talk at the table is about the Merrimack baseball team. Yeah, Mr. D. asks Rob about that and after Rob tells him the disappointing news that the team is not as good as last year's team, and Rob isn't either. His batting average this year is forty points lower than last year. Apparently, Mr. Dickers was also a baseball player at college and he tells Rob some of his ups and downs.

Next Mrs. Dickers talks about Dodger and his online business with his partner, Josh Price. She's like, "Dodger and Josh were here for dinner last week and they'll be here tomorrow of course, and my goodness those boys work hard but they seem to be making money hand over fist. Two weeks ago they stopped in with their girlfriends and, oh my goodness, how cute those girls were. Weren't they, Robert?" He shrugs, and in a deadpan manner, says, "Adorable," and Mrs. D. goes on, "Those boys travel back and forth to California a lot too. Well, I happen to notice when I was picking up Dodger's coat a few weeks ago there was a first-class airplane ticket in his pocket and, Omigod, the cost of first-class!"

Mr. D. says, "They do spend money irresponsibly, but I was talking with Josh one Sunday a few weeks ago. I was curious about their business because, frankly, I'm totally unfamiliar with online businesses. Josh laid out this impressive online marketing strategy right off the top of his head outlining a cyclical process that utilizes and optimizes their target profit market in an impressive cost-effective manner. Frankly, I wouldn't have thought of it. That kid has a brain for working the Internet." Whatever the fuck all that even means...

Mr. and Mrs. Dickers take turns bragging about Josh and Dodger. Quite the turn around from a year ago when Dodger was the black sheep of the family. Mrs. D. goes, "And, just like you two boys, Josh and Dodger are both very clean-cut young men and some of the young men I see around town are the opposite. Aren't Dodger and Josh clean-cut young men, Robert?" Mr. D. again deadpans his reply, "Well, Em, they are in the Army Reserve, so I assume clean-cut is kinda mandatory."

Neither Mr. nor Mrs. D. mentions anything about the marijuana shop the boys' have plans for opening. Maybe multiple pot shops, and they haven't mentioned that part about the guys' online business that includes the sale of paraphernalia associated with pot smoking. Rob and I don't mention it either. Next topic is a brief one regarding our grades and our up-coming final exams. And by the way, these final exams will be the last final exams of our lives. It's a brief conversation because we've had great grades the entire year and now Rob's parents take that for granted... take our hard work for granted.

Dessert is homemade apple pie with vanilla ice cream. Ya know, it's amazing neither Mr. nor Mrs. Dickers is fat considering the meals Mrs. D. puts on the table... and then there's always an 800 calorie dessert of which Mr. D. often has a second serving. During dessert my cell phone beeps in my pocket. I look over at Rob and he goes, "What? Oh, haha, go ahead and check your phone, babe. There are no rules against that here... yet." Mr. D. looks up as he stuffs his face with a big forkful of pie. I pull my phone out and see a text from Danny. I say to Robby, "Danny wants to know what we're doing tonight?" Rob says, "Are you gonna talk to Dylan tonight, Dad?" His dad says, "Yes, right after dinner but it'll only take ten minutes. Go ahead and make your plans. You're only young once or some such... um, you know."

Rob and I are done eating so Robby goes, "C' mon, Dylan," I get up, saying, "That was another delicious dinner, Mrs. D. Thank you." She says, "Ah, that's sweet of you to say, Dylan. You're welcome, dear." We leave our plates and whatnot where they are as Rob says, "Dad, we'll be in the family room." Mr. D. sort of waves his fork acknowledging he heard Rob, and I follow Rob into the family room.

We sit on the sofa and Rob goes, "Dad said he only needs ten minutes with you... that's all?" I shrug, "It doesn't take long to say... we don't want you working anywhere near our company, Dylan!' and then I'll give him the finger and say 'Fuck you then!" Robby laughs out loud and then goes, "Yeah, that's probably how it'll go. Um, on a slightly less serious note... what do we tell Danny we wanna do tonight?"

I know what I'd like to do tonight, I'd like to give Danny a haircut but I'm the only one who will want to do that. I say, "Let's tie a load on tonight, ya know, shooting pool someplace, or something like that. We'll celebrate your dad offered me a vice president position with the company. I'll probably be the V.P. over the division you'll have a supervisory spot in, like maybe the mailroom handling FedEx packages."

He chuckles, "Yeah, right. Okay, tonight we shoot pool and get drunk. Very mature of us." I go, "You text Danny, okay?" He goes, "Well, first let's see if you get offered the vice president's position." As I'm snickering like a middle school kid, Mr. Dickers walks in the room, saying, "Can I have a few minutes of your time, Dylan?" I hop up and go, "Sure, we were just, um..." but he's already walking into his office. His office is right next to the family room. Looking at Robby, I'm like, "Did he hear the vice president bullshit?" Rob grins and shrugs. I turn around and walk into Mr. Dickers' office with my dick shriveling up because I'm nervous again.

He isn't behind his big desk. He's sitting in one of the guest's chairs in front of his desk, saying, "Close the door, please, Dylan." I do that and he sort of waves at the other chair so I sit in it and try looking serious instead of nervous. He says, "First of all, Emily and I have become very fond of you, Dylan. It's been a pleasure getting to know you these past nine or ten months. We hope you'll consider this your home away from home no matter what you decide to do after graduation. I wanted to assure you of that first of all." I go, "Oh, thank you..." but he holds his hand up, adding, "You've graciously expressed your appreciation many times, son. Now, the question I have for you is this... do you have a serious interest in a position with Dickers & Son after graduating?"

Huh, well... do I? Yes! I go, "Well, yes, Sir. It's been on my mind as an attractive possibility." He says, "Inherent in that answer of yours is unsaid... 'but that depends', right?" I say, "Yes, Sir. I feel I'd like to work for your company but that depends, obviously, on if the company would like me to work for it and, um," gulp, "If I felt the opportunity was a good one." He says, "No equivocating... excellent. Correct answer." Although I feel like expanding on that, I'm not going to because what could I possibly say that would elicit a better response than the one I just heard, so I say nothing. Mr. D. says, "You understand, I hope, that I don't do the hiring. That's done by the Human Resources department which is one of the reasons we have that department." Oh, I sort of thought he would be the one hiring Rob and me because, but... oh, what the fuck do I know?

He says, "I needed to be sure you, you yourself, were interested and not just your boyfriend who is very interested in having you work with our company. Do you see what I mean?" I nod, "Yes, Sir, I do," and he chuckles, adding, "I already knew Rob wants you to work here, of course, haha. Well, and now I know you do too. So... here's what I'll do because you've become kinda special to us, almost a third son as Emily said. I'll have Dottie set up early interviews for you and Rob. Um, you guys don't have a class on Mondays, do you?" I go, "That's correct, no class on Mondays." He nods, "Good. Dottie will set up interviews on Monday with HR when you'll both fill out a career application and then interview with HR, for record keeping purposes. HR rules, or whatever."

I'm nodding my head as if everything makes perfect sense to me although that process isn't at all what I expected. On the other hand, it does make sense. I mean, Mr. D. isn't going to tell one of his managers out of the blue one day... 'Oh, by the way, I just hired a friend of my son's who will start in your department tomorrow at a higher salary than you're making. Find something for him to do'. As stupid as that is, it may have been vaguely what I thought would be the case without really thinking it through. Oh, and Robby needs to go through the HR process as well. Ha, I'll bet he doesn't know that.

Mr. D. asks, "Does this sound okay to you, Dylan? It'll give you a head start on the other college grads who will be interviewing with us this summer. And, um, feel free to include me as a reference on your application." BINGO! There's the nepotism for me too! The owner and CEO of the company is my number one reference.

Trying to appear calm, cool, and collected, I go, "Yes, Sir, I very much want to interview and thank you for allowing me to use you as a reference." He chuckles a little, grinning and nodding his head, mumbling, "Sure, my pleasure." I think he gets a 'kick' out of me because I act too formal. He adds, "Oh, will you get Rob to join us now... I actually should have asked him in before I started explaining the interview process."

I jump up and open the door. Rob looks over with an expression like he's expecting to hear some news. When I say, "Your dad wants to tell you something," Rob's expression changes from expectant to curious. Facial expressions are cool. There are scientists who claim humans have twenty-one distinctly different facial expressions while other scientists suggest all facial expressions are variations of four basic expressions, none of which I recall now. I'd assume though that one has to be smiling, right? Maybe frowning is another, and then I can't think what else, um, except surprise maybe. I don't know... whatever.

Rob comes in his dad's office, asking, "What's up, Dad?" His dad gets up and says, "Sit here, Rob, I'll use my desk chair." Mr. Dickers sits behind his desk and tells Rob about Dottie setting up interviews for him and me on Monday to meet an HR representative and that we'll complete what he calls career applications and blah, blah, blah... the same things he told me. Rob doesn't appear surprised or put out that he needs to go through the same routine as anyone applying for a position with the company. It all makes sense to me now but, hell, I don't know what I expected.

Mr. Dickers says, "Plan on wearing suits and ties and, if you're able, try to look alert too." Rob says, "No problem, Dad, but I just wanna say that Dylan and I don't feel he should be pigeonholed for the Human Resources Department." His dad goes, "That's where he worked all last summer for that benefits project that V.P. Aidan Mc Cafferty oversaw. He told me, Aidan did, and I quote... 'I'd hire that kid in a minute'. That's why I mentioned Human Resources as a possibility. Hey, guys, I have nothing to do with hiring! I basically rubber-stamp HR's hires and then chew their asses out whenever it doesn't work out. They do the hiring, that's why I pay them."

Rob goes, "Oh, really? So you're saying if Dylan gets some tight-ass guy interviewing him who, for whatever invalid reason doesn't offer him a position, what then... Dylan doesn't get hired, is that it?" Mr. Dickers says, "I don't see that happening, Rob. Dylan's going to include me as one of his references on the application." Robby and his dad grin at each other, and then Mr. D. adds, "But he won't need my endorsement 'cause he'll get hired on his own, you though, Rob, I may need to intercede on your behalf." Rob gets a startled look on his face and Mr. D. laughs as he's getting up and mumbles, "And that concludes our meeting, gentlemen." Hey, maybe that 'startled' expression of Rob's is one of the scientists' four primary ones.

Rob and I get up too with Robby saying, "Very funny, Dad!" Mr. D. pats Rob on the back, "No worries, son, Dylan and I will put a good word in for you." As Robby sputters and looks at me, Mr. D. joins Mrs. Dickers in the family room, asking, "Can I talk you into an after dinner drink, Em?"

Rob and I are going upstairs so I don't hear her answer, but I don't need to hear it... I know it's, yes. In the bedroom, Robby goes, "I was right about what I said a while ago, Dylan, my 'effing parents like you more than me!" I go, "Obviously! And for many good reasons too." He makes a 'face' at me and I go, "Get serious, and stop acting like a baby."

Flopping on the bed, I'm grinning at him as he mutters, "I'm acting like a baby, huh?" and he comes over to sit on the edge of the mattress next to me, going, 'Whaaa, whaaa, my parents don't like me," and then he asks, "Seriously though, did you expect to go through this whole interview process the way dad explained it?" I shrug, "I didn't know what I expected, but I'll tell you the truth, I'm glad to be getting it over with rather than worrying about what to expect for another month, or however long it would be."

Robby says, "I love how you handled yourself today, and as an aside, I think you're wicked cute too!" I go, "Yeah, I know," and he leans down to kiss me but his cell phone rings. He pulls it out of his pocket, looks at it and says, "It's Danny again." He talks into his phone, saying, "Hi, Mr. Monday, whassup, dude?" He listens and then says, "Maybe... hold on," and he tells me, "Danny wants us to meet him and Terrence at the Route 9 Bar. Ya wanna go?" I nod and he tells Danny, "Yeah, okay, we'll meet you there in half an hour."

Terrence is from the neighborhood. Well, he lives next door to Hayden, but Danny, Hayden, and Terrence are all within a block or two of each other. I like Terrence and his little brother Dennis, who's sexy hot! He's too young to go to bars though, which is a good thing because Dennis is at the cutest age for boys... he's fifteen or sixteen and I tend to make a fuss over cute teens even though I wouldn't touch them. For one thing, it's against the law and for another thing, I'm not a pervert.

We do what we need to do in the bathroom and then go downstairs with Robby stomping hard on each step all the way down. I ask him, "Doesn't that hurt your feet?" He's like, "Doesn't what hurt my feet?" It's not worth a discussion so I shake my head and Rob tells his parents, who are sipping their after dinner drinks watching a show on TV, "We're going out." That doesn't tell them anything, they can already see we're going out.

The Route 9 Tavern is close to the Dickers & Son office and it's where some of the younger employees from the office go Friday nights after work. It's slightly upscale compared to a normal neighborhood bar although not so upscale it's off-putting to young adults like us. Danny probably wants to go there specifically because there's a new pool room with four new pool tables. Coincidentally this is what I told Robby I wanted to do earlier, have some beers and shoot pool. Coincidences do happen. Also, the Route 9 Tavern has really good bar food. The bad thing is the draft beers cost four bucks each, but the beers are sixteen ounces, so...

When Rob and I go inside the bar we find it's a loud and busy place, which I like 'cause you can sort of get lost in the crowd. Refuting that premise immediately though, I hear my name called before I take three steps. Danny and Terrence are waving at Rob and me from a spot near the far end of the bar but neither of them called my name. It was a guy sitting at a table with two girls and another guy. In other words, two guys and their dates out for a Saturday night of drinking that maybe ends up with some screwing. I know the guy who called me because I went to high school with him, plus he was at Merrimack for two years before dropping off the face of the earth. And I remember his name too! Yep, even though I haven't seen him for two years I know his name is Travis Hunter and I've always liked him. We never hung out together though, I mean except at the high school.

Travis has had the same girlfriend since high school and I'm positive that's her at his table. I had to look twice though because since high school she's picked up an unnecessary extra thirty pounds. The other girl is a cutie, but I don't believe I've ever seen her before in my life, but I know I went to high school with the other guy who's at the table although, for a million dollars and a week to think about it, I couldn't come up with his name. He's so average looking, average everything to a degree he's almost invisible. Both girls are staring at me so intently I'm wondering if my fly is down or my shirt is on backward.

I give a little wave and smile to Travis, saying to Robby, "There's Travis Hunter," and Rob goes, "Who?" Yeah, if you weren't on a sports team Robby is unlikely to know you from high school. I mutter, "He's a guy from Framingham High I know. I'm gonna say hi." Robby nods mumbling, "Sure, babe. Um, we're probably gonna be in the new pool room." I mutter, "I'll be there shortly," and then walk over to Travis' table as he stands, smiling at me.

It's probably conceited of me to think this, but during our high school senior year, I always felt Travis was coming on to me which always confused me because I knew what's-her-name was his girlfriend. Then there were a few times Travis and I met at Merrimack when I had the same feeling of him flirting with me, um, or actually, I've never been sure what he was doing. I've never followed up on it either... so I still don't know. He's a nice guy though and I'll say hello.

Now that I think about it, it's a very similar thing this guy, Pete Paul does. He's in my Web Site Design class this semester and Pete's always ready with an awkward compliment for me or asking if I'm going to this or that mixer, or a frat party, or whatever. That's sort of the same thing Travis would do in high school.

Walking over to Travis' table I'm smiling and expecting a bro-hug but I get more than that. Travis gives me a hug like I just got back from the latest war. Christ, I need to take a step back and... was that a kiss on my cheek? He's obviously been drinking as he mumbles, "Omigod, I haven't seen you in two years. How you been, Dylan? It's great to see you!" It's like a reunion greeting you'd have with someone you were really close to at one time but then somehow lost track of each other, which is not our relationship at all!

As I'm awkwardly extricating myself from the over-the-top hugging, I say, "I'm good, Travis, how you doing?" He says, "Good, I'm good, Dylan," and he leaves one arm around my shoulders as he introduces me to the almost invisible guy. He says, "Do you know, Gordie Sullivan, Dylan? And that's Gordie's girlfriend, Toni DiPietro." I'm nodding and saying, "Nice to meet you guys." Travis skips the part where he tells Gordie and Toni who the fuck I am. He goes, "And you remember my girlfriend, Lizbeth, right?" I say, "Well, yes I do, except she wasn't this fat in high school." No, I DON'T! I say, "Of course, hi Lizbeth."

Now Gordie stands and holds out his fist, so I bump it with mine as he says, "Hell, I remember you, Dylan. Good to see you haven't aged a day since graduation." Toni says, "You're gorgeous," and then she hiccups and cutely grins, saying, "Excuse me." I grin at her as Gordie's saying, "I was at Milkie's graduation party that time you and your band played there. You guys were really good and, Jesus, that was quite the extravaganza his parents put on for him, huh?" My band? I've no clue what he's talking about. And, did he say someone's name was Milkie? I'm pretty sure even I would remember a name like Milkie. I nod my head at Gordie, smiling and saying, "I'm not sure you're thinking of..." and Travis says, "I'll get a chair for you, Dylan," and I go, "Oh, um, I'm with those guys," and I turn toward the bar but they're not there. They must be in the pool room already. Travis has a chair pulled over so I sit on it and he pats my shoulder sitting right next to me.

He's wearing the same wire-rim glasses he wore in high school and, ya know, Travis is one of the few guys I know who's still kinda cute after all these years. Well, no, he's not cute exactly... he's a little cute but mostly he's very good looking, which is different than being cute, plus he looks older than he is. He's my age obviously since we graduated together and in retrospect, I wonder why I never got together with him back then to at least find out if there was anything sexual behind his flirting, if that's what it was.

Well, shit, I probably didn't get together with him because, at that time, I'd just recently admitted to myself I was gay. Fat Carl Denton had just 'outed' me to myself and he had me wrapped around his finger so securely I didn't know what the fuck was 'up' with anything. Then Willie Worthington saved me from Carl but overwhelmed me in the process. Considering Carl and Willie, I suppose Travis seemed too innocent and nice. My limited experience with gay sex at the time had me thinking that only confidently aggressive sex partners were who I was supposed to be attracted too. Fat Carl had programmed me into thinking my role was a submissive one, and Willie didn't do anything to dissuade me of that notion.

Travis pushes a drink over to me, saying, "Please take my seven-and-seven, Dylan, I'm backed up anyway." Lizbeth goes, "Hey, that's my drink!" He gives her a 'hard' look, saying, "No, it's not!" and he lifts his glass, saying, "A toast to old friends." Oh, fuck! I pick up the glass he pushed in front of me. Did he say it's a 'seven and seven'? I've never had a seven-and-seven but I know it's Seven Up and Seagram 7 whiskey. Seagram 7 is the poor rot-gut cousin of VO. The drink looks refreshing though with the carbonation bubbles drifting upward. We all click glasses, Lizbeth's glass almost empty of course since I have her new one. I swallow some of the drink and, Omigod, what a horrendous drink! A sharp cheap whiskey taste with the super-sweet soda after taste... ghastly!

It's pretty much undrinkable but I don't want to hurt Travis' feeling so I sit here gagging it down as we reminisce about high school days, and most of what they're remembering I don't recall at all. Lizbeth isn't being very nice but Travis and the other couple are nice so I'm kind of in a bind here. I don't want to diss them but the guys are waiting for me in the pool room. When we're all getting near the end of these horrendous cocktails I'm trying to politely excuse myself, saying things like, "It's great to see you again, Travis, and you, Lizbeth. Gordie and Toni, you guys are a perfect couple... Ken and Barbie."

Toni's got a one-track mind though, saying again, "You're gorgeous," and Lizbeth loudly tells her, "You already said that, Toni!" I go, "Oh, man, that's so nice of you..." and Gordie asks, "Hey, Dylan, I meant to ask you... was that Rob Dickers you came in with?" I'm half standing now as I nod and he goes, "Holy fuck, he was that star baseball ballplayer from high school?" Travis sort of pulls my arm so I sit back down as he's saying, "Yes, Rob's a close friend of Dylan's," and Gordie mutters, "No shit, Travis! They're out boozing it up together so I kinda figured that out for myself." Okay, so he's not so nice either but his girlfriend, Toni, is. Gordie's not done talking though. He adds, "Dickers was an awesome pitcher but the team blew all four years." Lizbeth classlessly says, "Fuck Robby/Bobby the pitcher, it's Dylan who's always been Travis' idol." Travis says, "You...um, shut your mouth, Liz!"

Oh boy... I go, "Well, in case ya didn't know, Liz, Travis has always been my idol too," and I give his shoulders a one arm hug, and add, "Unfortunately, I'm supposed to be shooting pool with the friends I came in with so let me buy you guys a round of drinks and I'll go see what's up with my buddies." I stand all the way up this time and get the attention of a waitress who's in the vicinity. I tell her, "Please, a round of seven-and-sevens. Four of them," and then I fumble a twenty-dollar bill onto her tray and then, not sure what the cost of these ghastly drinks might be I add a ten-dollar bill to the twenty, mumbling, "Keep the change."

The waitress is chewing gum. She's doing it with her mouth open and with each rapid chew, she somehow makes a snapping sound with the gum. How does she do that? In between snapping sounds, she goes, "Thanks, doll," and off she goes with my thirty dollars. Travis stands and says, "Thanks for the round of drinks, Dylan!" and as I pat his back, I say to the other three at the table, "It's been fun reminiscing with you guys, nice to meet you, Gordie and Toni," and then to Travis, "Seriously, Travis, maybe you and I can have a drink later tonight but I need to see what's up with my friends now."

Toni says, "That's nice of you to buy a round, um, was that Terrence Berk you came in with, Dylan?" I go, "Terrence Berk?" The last name threw me off for a second, but then I'm like, " Oh, yeah, it is," and Lizbeth goes, "Omigod! Terrence was in my sister's homeroom three years in a row. She had a monster crush on him. It was like, 'Terrence did this or Terrence said that'." We all nod our heads but she's not done, "Terrence this, Terrence that... Fuck, I'd like to smack her across the face. Um, she's going out with a black guy now." I look at her not knowing what to say to that. No one else does either for a second and Travis goes, "She's something, huh?"

This is what you get at neighborhood bars, everyone knows somebody who knows this person or that one. Perhaps preparing for the drink I just bought him, Gordie chug-a-lugs his drink in three big gulps and then mumbles, "Oh, that other guy was Danny Monday, wasn't it? He was on the baseball team too. An outfielder but he couldn't hit for shit," and I go, "I beg to differ! He's on the Merrimack College baseball team now." Gordie goes, "Christ, Daryl, no need to fucking jump down my throat, okay? You're not my idol so don't push your luck." He's chuckling so I guess that was his idea of humor. Travis goes, "You're such an asshole, Frazer! And his name isn't Daryl, it's Dylan!" Gordie goes, "That's what I fuckin' said... Dylan!" I go, "No, no problem. I'm terrible with names myself." I assume Frazer is Gordie's last name, but it sure as hell doesn't ring a bell with me from high school.

Well, obviously it's definitely time to go! I pat Travis on the back again, saying, "You and I will grab a beer a little later tonight, Terrence," and then to the table I say again, "Nice, um, reacquainting and, um..." and I take a few steps walking backward with Travis saying, "Yes, we'll get a beer, definitely. I'm buying." I give him a little wave as I hear Lizbeth say, "How 'bout you buy me the fucking drink you gave him!" Travis mutters, "Bite me, Liz, alright?" I'm taking another step away as Lizbeth says, "Christ, how can you still have this 'thing' for that guy...?" Poor Travis.

I'm out of earshot now, heading for the pool room thinking that I actually wish Travis was alone 'cause I'd really like to talk with him. I think he's a sweet, nice guy. I don't know if he's in the closet, or maybe bi... or straight for that matter. What difference does it make anyway? Jeez, I grin to myself because I could never decide whether to think of Travis as nerdy or sexy. Well, I've actually liked most of the so-called nerds I've ever met in my life so either way, I wonder what might have been... him and me back in our high school days.

Yep, the guys are in the pool room standing around one of the new pool tables. The balls are racked on the table ready for someone to 'break'. Rob has a beer for me and hands it to me when I walk over and then Danny and I do the bro-hug and then Terrence says, 'Hi, Dylan," and we do a hug with me trying not to spill my beer. Jeez, Terrence is looking better than I remember! Smirking at Danny, I say to Terrence, "Gee, nice haircut, Terrence!" and pat him on his back. He points to Danny, saying, "He told me I'd look like you if I had the same haircut... haha. I knew he was full of shit but we look pretty good just the same, don't we, Dylan?" I go, "Absolutely! Fuck, looking at you right now, it's um, it's like I'm looking in a mirror."

Terrence laughs as Danny asks me, "Who were those people you went to say 'hi' to?" I go, "Fans of you and Rob 'cause you guys were baseball stars," and then, "You don't know them, huh? Christ, you guys were so popular in high school I'm surprised you know me." Terrence, who just turned twenty-one, says, "Everyone noticed you, Dylan. Even in my sophomore class when all you guys were seniors, yeah, I'd hear someone say your name."

Gee, I didn't know that, and I don't believe it either. I was so shy in high school it was painful. Fat Carl got me out of my shyness somewhat but mostly I hung with Chubby. Danny goes, "Hey, Dylan, who's the cute twat... not the fat one, the other one. What's her name?" I mutter, "You've got a way with words, Danny. She's Toni something but I don't think she went to high school with us." Terrence says, "We flipped coins for partners and you lucked out, Dylan. I'm your partner." I go, "Who's gonna break?" and we start the game.

Shooting pool is fun when you play with guys of equal talent levels, which includes the level known as 'hardly any talent'. That's not to say we've never played pool before, or we suck so bad we're holding the wrong end of the cue stick. None of us suck that bad, we're more like the average random pool player. Yeah, we're average for guys who, maybe ten times a year, shoot pool on a coin-operated pool table at local bars. Sometimes there'll be one guy out of the four who's above average but not in this group, and that's good because it makes for a fun game. Losers pay for the next game, they rack the balls for the next game AND buy the next round of beers... so we're trying to win, we're not just goofing off.

Naturally, there's lots of verbal ball-busting going on while we're shooting pool and drinking beer. That combination creates frequent legitimate reasons for laughing. As pool partners, Terrence and I do okay and in between games there are opportunities for me to sneak in a question or two about Terrence's past gay curiosities. I witnessed one of his curious moments last summer, specifically, Terrence's attempt to fuck his next-door neighbor, Hayden Parks. I'm curious if Terrence experimented with it further? And, damn, I'm looking forward to seeing Hayden again too.

Terrence, of course, knows that Hayden and the three of us, Danny, Rob, and I are gay so he speaks freely to me about gay matters telling me it was surreal 'cumming' in his buddy's ass but he didn't feel right about it so, no, he hadn't experimented with it further. I go, "Huh, that's our team's loss, Terrence. The girls in Framingham probably had a party when they heard you're still on their team." He shrugs, saying, "If so, they haven't invited me to the party yet." Then he brightens and goes, "Hey, that sounded like a compliment from you, Dylan. Thanks!" I mumble, "Well, yeah, Terrence, you'd be welcome on our team for sure. You're sexy, boy." He chuckles, muttering, "Oh, sure I am..." He hits my arm with his elbow and, leaning close to me so he can whisper, "Um, since you and I are basically twins, maybe you could fill me in on what I'm missing." Don't tempt me. I go, "Maybe I will."

Yeah, joking around with Terrence now, and hanging out with Travis earlier, that appears to have reactivated a kind of itch in me. It's an itch I used to experience all the time... the side-sex itch. Maybe being in Framingham has perked my side-sex interest. It's just, I don't know, those two, Terrence and Travis seem so sort of unsullied sexually, sort of pure as far as gay activities go which makes them both interesting to me. I think it'd be super refreshing to have some harmless gay play-time with them. Separately 'cause I'm not thinking anything even slightly kinky. I say they're 'sort of unsullied', only 'sort of' because Terrence did that thing with Hayden and for all I know Travis is banging his overweight girlfriend like a screen door in a hurricane, although I doubt it.

This odd interest I'm feeling for Terrence and Travis tonight seems strange in a way to me now, but even a year ago I'd probably have scored with at least one of them. It's been very rare for me to have side sex this past year. I can think of only two times this year when I've had pure side-sex. In the past, I used to have side sex two times a week. Now it's exclusively buddy sex, and no side sex to speak of, and the buddy sex ain't happening all that often either. Obviously, my buddy sex is with Danny and Pony... a 'top' and a 'bottom'... symmetry without frequency.

Terrence is less than two years younger than me but he looks and acts younger than that, plus he just got that duplicate haircut to mine and, damn, he makes my dick move in my jeans. I'm starting to notice things about him now, like the little round beauty mark on his cheek and how clear the skin on his face is and how his ears stick out a little and how he acts shy when he says something funny, as though he's not sure it is funny until I laugh. We talk quite a bit about Hayden who isn't Terrence's best friend or anything like that, but they have been next-door-neighborhood friends for twelve years. I got tight with Hayden last summer and, oh my, he fucks awesomely with that huge cock of his, so I'm interested in Terrence's stories about him. And Hayden fucking me, by the way, is buddy-sex as opposed to side-sex. To be side-sex it needs to be random and not with someone I hang out with all the time like Hayden, Danny, or Rob, who I hung out with last summer.

Anyway, Terrence tells me about Hayden coming out as a sort of swishy gay when he was about eleven or twelve years old... hahaha. He's an original alright, Hayden is. Christ, right now I can see in my head Hayden's little naked body with that preposterously large penis hanging between his skinny hairy legs, and him grinning his cute sexy grin with his long wavy red hair... holy shit! Well, his hair color depended on his mood... he changed it a few times last summer.

The platter of bar food is ready, according to the loudmouth bartender. We ordered spicy chicken wings and two dozen peel-n-eat cold shrimp with cocktail sauce, plus a double order of fried mozzarella sticks with ranch dressing... and a round of draft beers. Terrence and I placed the order at the bar. We go over to get it and it cost $88.00, which we'll split four ways so it isn't all that bad. The bar food is reasonably priced and that's kinda smart of this establishment because it means, while people eat the bar food they'll buy more $4.00 draft beers which cost the bar probably thirty cents each... if that.

We lost the last game which is why it's Terrence and I picking up the order at the service window saving the four of us the need to add twenty percent on top of the $88.00 for a tip. Tipping a waitress, who would have taken the same five minutes to get our order and bring it to the table as we did, seemed like a dumb idea

Sitting at an empty table we act like slobs devouring the snack foods! Then we switch pool partners and now it's Danny and me against Terrence and Robby. We're all getting drunk so it's not surprising that Danny accidentally sinks the eight ball way before he should and so we lose that game. He gives me a ten-dollar bill for his half of the beers we need to buy the winners, saying, "Please get the round of beers, Dylan. I got three rounds earlier as Rob's partner and the bartender is gonna think I'm the group's flunky if I go up there again." Yeah, Danny's been on the losing team an abnormal number of times... heh heh.

As I'm waiting at the bar, Travis appears and says, "Hi, Dylan. Let me buy you a drink." I go, "Oh man, that's nice of you, Travis. Ah, but I'm here buying four beers as the loser in that last game of pool." He says, "Oh, so you need to go right back in there, huh?" I try looking at the table Travis and his friends were at, but people are in the way so I ask, "Um, is your girlfriend still here and, um, the other two?" He nods, "Yeah they're still here. Listen, um, what I wanted to ask you though is, ah, could you have a beer with me sometime? I mean, um, other than tonight. How long are you home for?" I say, "Just this weekend, you know, for Easter." He rubs his face and then adjusts his glasses, mumbling, "Oh, that sucks. Um, I really would like it if we, you and me, could, you know, go out together sometime and have a drink or something," and then he very tentatively touches my arm.

Trying to be funny, I ask him, "You mean on a date, Travis?" and to my surprise, he looks me in the eyes and says, 'Yes, I'm asking you out on a date. I know you're, um, Dickers' boyfriend, but I don't care. I'm asking you to go out with me. Will you?" Oh man, I feel so bad for him. This must have been hard for him to do. I say, "Gee, Travis, I'd like to have a beer with you, I really would. And, ah, you're right I am Rob's boyfriend, so let's have a few beers sometime but we won't call it a date, okay? I'd like that. Um, when I'm home after graduation. Hey, that reminds me, how come you dropped out of Merrimack or did you? I haven't seen..." He interrupts, "Yeah, my old man made me drop out because of my grades. I'm working at UPS but going to community college at nights. So, you will go out with me, right? Is that what you said?" I go, "Sure, as two old-time friends, I'd love to do that." He takes a deep breath and sort of smiles, saying, "Okay, then. Good, that's good. Um, can I have your number?"

The bartender goes, 'What'll it be, pal?" I tell him what I need and then tell Travis my cell phone number. He looks happy, and I'm glad for him. I give him a one-arm hug, saying, "I'm looking forward to it, Travis." He's smiling and nodding his head. Then he says, 'Whew, I was fucking nervous asking you out. I never asked a guy out before, Thanks, Dylan, I'll call you." I go, "Don't tell Lizbeth... haha." He snorts out a laugh, "Fuck her, but, no, I'm not telling her. See ya, Dylan," and he walks off.

Yeah, I feel sad for him. I'll definitely have a beer with him although my earlier ideas... the hell with that. That seems like a terrible idea now. I won't do anything to lead Travis on, that's if he ever does call me, which I doubt. When he sobers up he'll think differently, but I did say I'd go out with him so he's got that to think about. I didn't say no, and I hope it makes him feel good about himself. Now, however, I don't feel like messing around with him sexually at all, or Terrence either. Both guys are too innocent and sweet the way they are... leave them alone!

Okay, here are my four beers. I pay the guy and then... yes, I can do this... there's a way to get both hands around four sixteen-ounce glasses of beer, squeezing them against each other. Using this method I have a fifty-fifty chance of carrying the beers back to the pool room successfully. My average size hands manage to pull this maneuver off, and as I'm walking through the crowd only about an ounce of beer from each glass splashing over my hands, some getting on my jeans and naturally wetting the worst place possible, my crotch. No problem, fuck it.

After I set the four glasses carefully on a table, Danny grins asking, "What happened to the rest of my beer?" I mutter, "Bite me," and Terrence says, "I should have come with you and helped carry the beers back, Dylan." I smile at Terrence, saying, "That's okay, twin," and he laughs at that too hard while leaning against my side and rubbing my crewcut head. Nope, I'm not taking advantage of him either!

Rob picks up a glass and mutters, "Why didn't you ask for one of those little trays?" I again say, "Bite me," and Rob and I grin at each other. After swallowing some beer, Robby picks up his cue stick and breaks the racked balls... SMACK! That's a cool sound when the cue ball smacks into the rack. The balls spread out with the number three ball dropping in a pocket. Robby tells Terrence, "We got the low balls, partner."

At ten of one, we call it a night. While walking through the still crowded bar I glance around looking for Travis but he must have left. Outside we see three bearded guys in their late twenties smoking cigarettes with one of them leaning against Rob's pickup. Fuck!

As we're walking up to them, Rob goes, "Excuse me, but that's my pickup your leaning on." Danny whispers, "Oh, boy!" and then he whispers to Terrence, "Ter, you got that big asshole who was leaning on the pickup," and Terrence says, "Why do I need to get the biggest guy?" The biggest guy says, "Nice truck, dude," and steps away from the truck. Rob unlocks the doors with that key device even before reaching the pickup, and mutters, "Thanks." Rob and I do quick hugs with Terrence and Danny, then we get in the pickup as Danny and Terrence walk to their car. No problem.

During the ride home I'm thinking how I would have loved kissing Terrence on his innocent lips when we did the quick hug 'goodnight'. Damn, it's gotta be his youth that is so attractive. Rob's driving is slightly erratic but he makes it okay and at home, as we're going in the backdoor, he says, "I should have let you drive, babe. I thought I was seeing double a few times." I'm thinking, 'Good God! Seeing double!' but I mutter, "You did fine," and then I listen to Robby clunking hard on each step going upstairs. It makes me snort out a laugh. Robby smiles, asking, "What, babe?" I shake my head, "Nothing, sweetheart," and we both snicker at me calling him 'sweetheart'. Things seem funnier than they actually are when you've been drinking, that's one of the side benefits.

No sex tonight, but very early Easter morning we both wake up with boners. That isn't all that rare of an occurrence, now that I think about it. Without discussing it, we exchange smirks and then I go up on my side facing away from Rob and he pulls the waistband of my jockey shorts down to just below my butt cheeks. Two seconds later he rubs a big finger-full of Astroglide on my asshole and then slowly pushes his aforementioned boner in past my sphincter and then, leaving the fat head throbbing against my prostate, he rubs my shoulder while my anus gets all pissed off at this Easter morning intrusion and takes it's good old time before beginning to ease up the hurting back there. It does stop though and when Rob sees my tense body relaxing a little he pushing the rest of his extremely fat boner up my ass and then leaves it there, murmuring, "Happy Easter, Dylan."

What follows is a slow anal fuck, but not what I'd call lovers sex though and that's because we had no foreplay and, I don't know, it's more like we both simply have the desire to fuck together and experience orgasms. We eventually do too, but only after an awe-inspiring six or seven minutes of intense sexual pleasure with Rob's fat boner sliding ridiculously tightly back and forth, up and back, in and out of my rectum thereby electrifying every nerve ending it touches. The whole time Rob's scent is in my head and eventually, with my hand covering my mouth I do a muffled squeal feeling a long stream of cum shooting out of my rock-hard boner. Omigod it's an intensely pleasurable feeling... the creamy cum feels so good coming out, indescribably good! The cum stream is long in its duration but not in the distance it travels. It makes a dull splat sound hitting the sheet a foot or so in front of my boner, and then another shorter stream pours out as I hold my breath absorbing every second of that miracle-like pleasure, my body shaking from it... and then a gasping exhale as my heart beats wildly in my chest.

Rob rolls over on his back, unceremoniously pulling his cock from my ass as he's gasping in oxygen and then he breathes deeply but quietly for a few seconds. With a smile on my face, I drop down on my back, cum drooling from my ass as my side bumps against Robby's. We lie here a minute without moving and then he says, "How do you manage to keep from cheering out loud at how awesome I am at doing that?" I mutter, "I'm cheering in my head." He nods and gets his arms around me pulling me partially on top of him and then squeezes me, saying, "I like waking up with you." I go, "Me too."

We go back to sleep and don't wake up again until almost eleven o'clock. This time I've got a beer-hangover-headache whereas earlier I didn't notice it and that's probably because I was still slightly drunk the first time I woke up. My boners woke me up. Rob groans and asks, "Did we take some Advil or something before going to bed last night?" I go, "Uh huh," and we lie in bed another half hour before Rob mutter, "Fuck this," and he slides out of bed and pads out to the hall, heading for the bathroom.

I doze off as Rob takes his shower and by the time I'm done with my shower I'm feeling okay... not great, but okay. We get dressed in semi-dressed-up clothes meaning pressed khakis with leather belts and button-down dress shirts. My dress shirt is white and I pull on a dark blue V-neck sweater over it. Rob's wearing a light blue button-down dress shirt without a sweater. We both have loafers on our feet. So, yeah, we're wearing kind of dressed-up clothes, but only dressed-up enough that I don't feel especially uncomfortable and yet still dressing-up enough that we're sort of honoring Easter, or at least Easter dinner because there's been not one word mentioned about going to church.

We go downstairs and discover no one's home. Rob goes, "Mom and Dad must have gone to a late Mass." That's what Catholics call church service... Mass. I don't know why that is but I've never been curious enough to ask someone. If I ever am curious enough I wouldn't waste my breath asking Robby because I'll bet my left nut he doesn't know why the church service is called that either.

We eat breakfast at the Natick Diner, sitting at the counter. As usual, I glance around for cute guys and see a guy I know, although he's not cute. It's a guy Chubby worked with at the insurance agency last summer. His name is Jay James and he's sitting at a table with a younger version of himself, his brother undoubtedly, and a man and woman who are definitely the parents. Huh, I don't believe I've ever seen a man look as much like his kids as that man does. Or, I should have said that the other way around. Either way, if Jay and his brother want to know what they'll look like when they're fifty years old, all they need do is look at their father.

They're all dressed up with suits and ties and so forth so they probably went to church and now they're having maybe the traditional breakfast they have every Easter after church. Families get into traditional stuff like that although not mom, Tris, Chubby and I. We never did, and it doesn't appear the Dickers have an Easter tradition either because Rob didn't even know his parents were going to church. No big deal, just saying.

By the way, Jay claims his family is a distant relative of Jesse James, which I think is weirdly interesting if true. I don't know him, Jay, well enough to go over and say 'hi', so I don't. I've only met him twice but I'll mention seeing Jay to Chub because last summer those guys hung out after work and became friends.

Diner's breakfasts are almost always good and this one is as well, and then when Rob and I get back from breakfast his parents are having coffee in the kitchen and they're kinda dressed up too. Mrs. Dickers tells us about the really nice Easter Mass with the children's choir singing brilliantly and how they sat with the Walton family and blah, blah, blah. Rob's kinda interested because the Walton's were neighbors some years ago and they have a son Rob's age named Barry. Rob and Barry were buddies and Rob's interest in hearing details about what was said about Barry makes me think I know what kind of 'buddies' they may have been. Rob and Dodger, of course, were sexually active from about age fourteen which, when I let my mind wander around the possibilities of that scenario, I get jealous.

Mrs. D. tells us that Easter dinner will be at five o'clock, early enough so Rob's grandparents who will be here for dinner can then drive home in daylight. They don't drive at night anymore. I wonder why that is, but don't ask. When it seems we've socialized enough with Rob's parents, Rob and I go outside and walk around the block enjoying the nice weather while having a smoke and talking about our upcoming job interviews at Dickers & Son.

Later we hang around the house mostly in the family room, but then the basement for a game of ping pong. We're in our bedroom looking online at the progress of the condo Rob's buying in Westborough when Dodger and Josh Price arrive at two-thirty. We go down to greet them. There are normal guy hugs and then five minutes later their grandparents arrive. What follows is ten minutes of greetings and small talk and then Mr. Dickers opens the bar and begins making drinks for his in-laws, himself, and Mrs. D. He tells us, "You guys can make your own drinks."

It's a nice sunny day so Dodger suggests gin and tonics and that's what he makes for the four of us. Not my favorite drink but I'm not about to be 'that guy' so I nod, thank Dodger, and drink my gin and tonic. Mr. Dickers makes Old Fashions because that's what the grandparents want. "Only one though, Robert," is what grandma says to Mr. D. as if he twisted her arm to have the first one. Both grandparents call me Daryl, like that kid did last night, and no one here, least of all me, corrects the grandparents.

Dodger and Rob do some chit-chatting with their grandparents in the family room while Josh and I talk about the Red Sox who aren't getting off to a good start this year, or as Josh put it, "They're historically bad." Yeah, so far they are. Our second gin and tonic we take outside and have a smoke while drinking them in the back yard with the sun feeling awesome. We sit around the picnic table with Dodger asking what Rob and I are gonna do after graduation. I don't detect any hard feeling between Dodger and Rob as a result of the 'talk' Rob had with his brother about not fucking me anymore. I'm pretty sure Dodger, like me, realizes Rob has a good point there.

When Rob and Josh go inside to get our third gin and tonics, Dodger and I are left sitting at the picnic table alone and the topic of the 'talk' is the first thing Dodger mentions. He goes, "I'm assuming you received the same lecture from Rob I did. The one about our innocent quick sex the last time we were all together." I nod, "Yes, I surely did," He goes, "Devastating as it was, I've finally recovered from the humiliation. How about you?" I go, "Ha, yeah. Um, but I don't know how he knew. Do you?" Dodger flicks the ash off his cigarette and watching it fall to the patio's flagstone floor and then smirks at me, mumbling, "Yeah, because he knows us quite well, that's how he knew." I go, "That must be it, yeah."

Even though we're speaking about it as if it was a humorous nothing-important pronouncement from Robby, I sense Dodger and I are both acknowledging that was our last time together ever. Neither of us had ever heard an ultimatum from Robby about anything before so we're not ignoring this first one. Like Robby, Dodger's outgrown most of his boyish cuteness, not all of it. Mostly, now they're both very handsome as opposed to being cute boys, maybe Dodger's even more handsome than Robby.

Well, ya can't beat perfect facial features, not ones like Dodger and Robby have and then all those facial features go perfectly together so, lucky them. They look almost like twins except for their hair and eye coloring and now Dodger is an inch or so taller than Rob. There's always been a calmness about Dodger that Robby never had, and then contradicting the calmness there's a bit of wildness in Dodgers pretty brown eyes from time to time that I never see in Rob's pretty blue eyes. I've seen Robby go nuclear with fury when he's wicked angry, but that's different than that 'look' in Dodger's eyes. No matter that Dodger has always told me differently, Robby is a much better match for me than Dodger. I couldn't keep up with Dodger and I wouldn't want to try.

Life isn't as much fun for me now that my frivolous behavior has given way to a more responsible approach to life, but at the same time fucking with everyone who wants to, well that's probably not the best approach to successfully navigate my way through life. I'm older and I suppose more boring, but I can't seem to do anything about it. I don't want to do anything about it. I'm happy the way I am.

Sure, some guys, like my brother, for example, retain the youthful balls-to-the-wall lifestyle keeping the party going long after I've given up the fight. Maybe I burned hotter and therefore burned out sooner. Robby has had something to do with that too I suppose... his conscientiousness and responsible approach to life rubbed off on me somewhat. I'm not complaining at all though, quite the opposite 'cause I like where I am. As I said, I'm happy. I'm also happy Chubby is happy living the life he wants. He can do no wrong in my eyes anyway. I'm happy Dodger won all that money and that Josh and Dodger appear to be in love, or on their way there. I'm happy for everyone that's happy, God knows there aren't enough people in the world who are truly happy so I celebrate those who are.

Dodger says, "Heh heh, I bet you don't remember the first time I bagged your ass." I go, "It was in that swimming pool over there," as I'm nodding at the pool behind the fence at the end of the yard. He goes, "Yeah, it was. Christ, that was so awesome! Back then I was finally over idolizing my brother and instead, I was uber competitive with him, and I mean about everything. I showed him he isn't the only one who could nail the best looking boy in high school." I'm like, "Oh, I didn't hear about that one, who else did you nail in the pool?" He lights another cigarette, mumbling, "Yeah, right... and you're still the best looking guy in Framingham."

I ask, "Hey, are you ever gonna tell your parents, you know?" He says, "That I'm gay? Nah, how could I? Rob jumped the gun on that one, but ya know, Dylan, I think Josh and I are bi anyway. We've got these babes, they're actually real girlfriends, not props we show the 'rents', girls who we like hanging out with. The four of us are good together and I don't mean the four of us having sex together. Not at all. We're righteous couples. Josh and I talk about sex with the girls and agree we prefer each other, but the girls are good in bed too. We think we'll marry, have kids... and each other on the side." I nod, "Good plan, I think. Anyway, I hope it works out for you, Dodger." He talks excitedly about that and then shows me pictures on his phone of the four of them together. Yeah, nice looking girls, nice looking couples.

The main thing is, Dodger and I know it's over between us. At a lull in the conversation, he looks at me and shrugs, muttering, "It was fun though, huh?" I nod as Rob and Josh come out with our drinks and a plate of nachos covered in yellow cheese sauce. Yuck! It's all good though, not the nachos, I mean the four of us, Rob, Dodger, Josh, and me... we're good. I feel a nice relaxed camaraderie between us. Things come full circle sometimes.

Mrs. Dickers puts on a very fine baked ham Easter dinner with really nice side dishes. Most of the dinner conversation consists of Mr. and Mrs. Dickers arguing politics with Mrs. Dickers' parents. The boys' grandparents seem quite sure they're right. Not nasty arguing, but it does get tedious to listen to after a while and us guys take turns rolling our eyes at each other while keeping whatever early developing political opinions we might have to ourselves.

Frankly, I'm shocked the four real-adults, that's what I call them because I think us guys still have a lot of 'boy' in our souls. Anyway, I'm shocked the four adults can fully support either political party. I think politicians are... no, I'm not getting into that except to say they all suck and politicians are even bigger liars than the police... if that's even possible. Speaking of the police, probably half of Congress on both sides of the aisle should probably be in jail. Oops, I didn't keep that to myself, did I? But, here's also what I think... I also think at age twenty-two I don't know what the fuck I'm talking about, but until I do, that's what I think... the jail thingie.

All in all, Easter isn't very high up there on my list of favorite so-called holidays, but then it's supposed to be all about religion I suppose. I enjoyed getting half a load on this afternoon with the boys, and the Easter dinner was really good, but most of all I enjoyed being with these people, especially the people around my own age and gender.

Monday morning Rob and I are up early to get showered and dressed in suits and ties. We're getting an early start on life after college by interviewing for a job three weeks before we even graduate. I'm nervous, but I'm with Rob who is not nervous, so that helps. Plus, get serious, of course, we'll get hired! Rob will take the job offer when it's made and I probably will too, but only after talking with my future step-dad. I'm not going to make an issue of that now, but talking with Tom before committing to anything is my plan... and I'm sticking to it.

to be continued...

Donny Mumford thinat20@yahoo.com donnymumford@outlook.com

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Hoping some readers may be interested, there are books of mine published and available on Amazon.com. Anyone who has Kindle can download them for next to nothing. The books are usually around ten dollars. They are about a 19 year old gay boy (Oliver) who has a far different life than Dylan's. And there is a new book, 'Mike, his Bike and Me'. Please at least check them out by typing my name on Amazon.com. Information about the story in the books can be found in some detail there. Thank you.

Donny Mumford

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