Guy's Secret Chapter 10 March 18, 2001
Written By: Justin Case
Disclaimer: This story is about young gay love; if it offends you, leave now. This story was inspired by things that may have really happened, but didn't. This tale is entirely fictional. It was inspired from a conversation between the author and one of his editors. If there are any similarities to actual people, places or events, it is pure coincidence. If it is illegal for you to read sexually explicit material, don't go any further. This work is protected under the copyright laws of the United States of America.
Words from our author: Wow, here we are again! So many have written me to ask me if I was going to continue the story. No rest for the weary, I guess. I am sorry it has taken so long to pick it back up. You have no idea how hard it is to remember where I was, let alone where we're going. Hehe, that's the truth. I missed Guy and Matty too. If you'd care to comment, feel free to do so. I can be e-mailed at Justin69SK@aol.com.
The black Ford Crown Victoria rolled to a stop. Two sharply-dressed men leapt from the vehicle and quickly rushed in on the Sheriff's mangled car and pick-up truck to check for any visible signs of life. The shorter of the two, who had been driving, made a beeline for the County Cruiser while the other ran to the pick-up, which had come to rest about fifty feet away. A pale blue Honda whipped past.
"Hey, look at this!" the taller man called from the pick-up.
"He's dead," the short one stated, ambling over to see what his companion was talking about. "Looks like we're a little late on this one, John."
"This was no accident, Williams," John, the taller one, intoned.
"I'll call the Bureau," Williams offered, trotting back to the Crown Vic.
"You better ask them to send a State Trooper and the Coroner," John shouted to his partner.
"Williams to Base," Williams called into the microphone attached to the sophisticated radio mounted under the dash of the shiny black Ford.
"Go, Williams," the speaker crackled.
"We'll need a State boy; we have a DOA at Farm Road 110 and Old County Road. It's a homicide of our suspect. Notify Senator Hillston. We'll stand by. Williams out."
"Copy. Time 1437."
Meanwhile, Lester exited his blue Honda in front of Walters' home. He skittered up the brick stairs of the Georgian style mansion, passing between the two huge pillars that held up the foyer roof. He was visibly shaken, his ruddy face flushed, and was profusely sweating. He nervously jabbed the doorbell. He knew he was early. The meeting wasn't until three-thirty, but he couldn't finish the job; those two tourists in the Ford had screwed up the plans. He hoped Walters was here, otherwise he'd have to wait.
The right of the two large chestnut doors swung inward without a squeak. Anxiously Chester greeted his visitor. The middle-aged judge reached for John and pulled him into the vast, formal entrance.
"You're early. Everything go okay?" Walters inquired, leading the District Attorney to his private domain. "Let's talk in the library."
Walters closed the solid oak door as they entered. Click, the door was locked. This was going to be a private meeting, just the two of them, with no disturbances. Walters made his way with purpose around the stately desk and sat in his oversized, burgundy leather chair. He pushed the chair back and plopped his feet upon the desk as he motioned for Lester to take the diminutive leather seat across the desk. John Lester hesitated, fidgeting nervously before taking his place in the front of the judge.
"Cigar?" Chester Walters offered.
"No, sir, your honor," the DA croaked.
"What's the matter, John? You look upset."
"I couldn't get the pick-up truck. Some tourists happened along and stopped," Lester mumbled, his eyes darting everywhere but at the judge.
"What?"
"Some car stopped and two guys were checking out the accident," he continued lamely. "I had to get the hell out of there."
"What do you mean, tourists? How do you know that?"
"I've never seen them around these parts before," Lester whined, shrinking at the tone of the judge's voice. "They were wearing suits."
"That is not what we planned. You were supposed to burn the pick-up."
"I know, sir. We should have waited until seven like we originally planned," Lester complained.
Back in Hilton, Father Beck was in the midst of a meeting with Oscar Long. Oscar was the trustee of the Harrington Endowment Fund.
..."I see. So there's nothing we can do?" Father Beck asked.
"Well, Tom, I think I can arrange a board meeting of the other trustees and persuade them to go along with paying the taxes, sort of like a loan," Oscar assured the Reverend. "We'd give the Sugardale children and Johnsons a hundred years to pay it off. There is a clause in the award part of the endowment."
"God bless you, Oscar Long. God bless you. Can we call Ms. Butterfield right now?"
"Why, certainly." Long beamed, as he offered his desk phone to the bespectacled man of the cloth.
Tom put the phone to his ear and dialed the numbers. He waited patiently for an answer.
"Good afternoon. Ms. Butterfield's office." The female assistant's voice floated into the good man's ear.
"Yes, Tom Beck here. May I speak with Ms. Molly?"
Tom quickly explained what Oscar had said to Molly.
"It's just too bad we don't have a will. If Melvin had left a will, this could all be taken care of since we'd know where the money is."
"What do you mean, Ms. Molly?" the Father wanted to know. "There is a will, Guy told me."
SILENCE ... "Excuse me?" the woman was clearly shocked. "Father, did you say there is a will?"
"Yes, Ms. Molly. I'm sorry; I forgot all about it in the commotion of everything. I didn't know you needed it."
"Oh, Father, I could kiss you!" she bubbled. "I mean, well, you know what I mean. Meet me at the Johnsons' house."
"Name the time."
"Right now!" she nearly cut him off. She whooped with glee as she hung up without even saying "good-bye".
"Oscar, it's good news," the sensitive Tom Beck said, his voice quavering.
"I heard. May I go with you?" his long time friend asked.
"Actually, I was hoping you'd drive. I'm beside myself, and my mind just couldn't pay a bit of attention to the roadway."
The two shot out of Oscar's office to his sedan to begin the short journey to the Johnsons'. They were both excited, as children of today represented the future of tomorrow in their minds. They arrived at the Johnsons' house in less than five minutes, record time. The two jetted into the driveway and parked. Ms. Molly hadn't arrived yet.
A few moments later they were all crowding around the Johnsons' dining room table. Alice was in a dither as she hadn't expected company. Her main concern was if she had something they could all eat, the Southern hospitality dictate. Ms. Molly was obviously as anxious as Alice but for different reasons. It was decided Bob would call the Williams' to talk with Guy. Bob dialed up the phone, he briefly explained to Nancy why he was calling. Unfortunately, Guy and Matty hadn't returned from the Sugardale Farm. Nancy Sue assured Bob the two would definitely be back in time for her fried chicken dinner which would only be about fifteen minutes.
Molly grabbed the phone from Bob's hand.
"I'm sorry, Nancy," Ms. Molly gushed, her excited tone belying her apologetic words, "but I'll be heading right over to pick Guy up. We need this will so I can make the motion in Judge Rudebaker's court."
Molly Butterfield nearly threw the phone back at Bob and was gone in a New York minute. Alice returned to the dining room from where she had been looking for vittles in the kitchen. Her quizzical expression spoke volumes.
"Alice, I'd better go to the market. Looks like we're going to have a few more for dinner than planned," Bob said, as lovingly and supportive of his wife as he could, then he turned to the men sitting at the table. "Care to join me, gentlemen?"
"Yes, of course," Tom agreed as he stood and pushed his chair back under the table.
"Certainly. I'll get dessert," Oscar volunteered.
The three men departed almost as quickly as Molly. Bob led the trio to his pick-up truck.
"Sally Ann! Bobbie Sue!" Alice, clamoring around, alone in the dining room, called to the two older girls.
The girls scrambled down the stairs to see what Mrs. Johnson wanted. Sally Ann was obviously in much better spirits, she hardly ever looked down at the floor any more, and her eyes were sparkling now.
"Quick! Sally Ann, you help me in the kitchen. Bobbie Sue, you keep your eyes on the boys. Where's Melvin Jr.?" Alice was firing the words out as fast as she could. "Melvin Jr.!" she called out, cutting off any answer from the sisters.
Melvin Jr. ran into the kitchen to see what Mrs. Johnson wanted. "Yes, Ma'am."
"Set the table buffet style. Do you know what that means? Like the night we had everyone at your house." Alice commanded, explained, and expected. "I have to call Mrs. Williams," she bantered along as she picked up the wall-mounted phone.
"Hey there, Nancy Sue. How are you?"
"Fine, Miss Alice. What can I do for you?"
"Why don't you bring whatever you're fixing for dinner over here for a potluck? Bobbie went to the store to do some shopping and I have no idea what to expect. I have Father, Oscar Long, and Miss Molly joining us. I was going to do rice with a red sauce, but I don't have enough," Alice fretted to her friend.
"That would be fine, Miss Alice. I'm fixing fried chicken and put on plenty more than we need," Nancy soothed. "I also have a chocolate cake."
"Oh, what would I do without friends such as you? Thank you so much. Do you think I should call Madeline Beck?"
"I could do that for you, Miss Alice. I'll pick her up along the way. Knowing those men, they forgot all about her."
"Thank God Oscar isn't married. Although, what would one more be now?" Alice breathed, finally winded.
"And Miss Molly is single too. See, Miss Alice? That's two less we have to worry about."
"Yes, that's right, there's a silver lining in every cloud," Alice grinned. "Thank you so much, Nancy Sue, see you in a little while."
Sally Ann was busily preparing a large green salad. Alice tended to the pots on the stove. Melvin Jr. bustled around the table while Bobbie Sue kept an eye on Billie Mack and Gregory upstairs.
Just then the telephone rang. Alice answered it.
"Hello. Mrs. Johnson?" a strange voice asked.
"Yes, this is Alice Johnson."
"Yes, Mrs. Johnson, this is Riley Hunter, the academic director at Juilliard. We here at Juilliard were wondering if you could set up a meeting with Guy Sugardale. He's an actor in your local guild; one of our scouts saw him in a production you folks did."
"Excuse me?"
"Yes, we here at Juilliard were trying to reach a Guy Sugardale. We want to offer him a full scholarship. We contacted the local high school; however, they were closed for the summer. All they could do was send his transcripts. He has the grades, and from what we've been told, the stamina Juilliard is looking for. The school gave us your name as the point of contact for the...let's see, here it is, the Lamplighters. Could you help us?"
"Oh, Mr. Hunter, absolutely! Actually, I'm Guy's temporary guardian. He'll be flabbergasted."
"Well, this is wonderful. Could we arrange a meeting with you and Guy?"
"Yes, Mr. Hunter. Yes. When?"
"Could you get to New York in the next few weeks?"
"Of course. Could I get your number to call you back in the morning? I'll need to make some arrangements and talk to Guy."
"That's understandable. Why don't I call you back? Say, nine tomorrow morning?"
"That's fine. We'll be right next to the phone at nine tomorrow."
"We'll talk then. Good day, Mrs. Johnson."
"Yes, thank you. Good bye."
Alice stood there in her kitchen, staring at the walls. This was a dream come true for Guy, but she wanted to make sure he was part of the decision. She knew how much he liked acting and how hard he worked at his talent. She also knew how enthusiastic he was with all the work that came with putting on a production. She could hardly contain herself, as she returned to her cooking.
By this time, Miss Molly had scooped up Guy and the will; they were roaring back to the Johnsons'. Nancy had neatly packed all her chicken in the car with Matty before whisking off to the Becks' to pick up Madeline. The three men had finished up the shopping by this time and loaded the back of Bob's pick-up with the assorted sundries.
Everyone had arrived at the Johnsons' at about the same time. The entire gaggle of people gathered around in the dining room of the small country home. The feast for all of fourteen was placed. The dining room was brightly lit, the candles were burning in the center of the Johnsons' table. Joyful sounds wafted through the home, as did the aroma of food. It was a party of Southern style and grace.
Alice rang her dinner bell, the lovely gold enameled one that was her great-grandmother's.
Father Beck stood at the head of the table, and the room fell silent as they all bowed their heads.
"Bless us, Father, and thank you for the bountiful gifts we are about to receive. Keep a steadfast watch over all of us here, and all your children. Lord, lead us to the delight of your ways. Amen."
"Excuse me! Excuse me! Everyone, I have an announcement to make before we eat," Alice could hardly contain her excitement a moment longer.
"I am proud to announce that a Mr. Hunter called this evening. He's the academic direct at Juilliard. They want to offer Guy a full scholarship. He's going to call back in the morning for Guy's decision."
Everyone applauded. Guy was taken totally by surprise and stood deadstill next to Matty. Matty didn't make a move either; he didn't smile or applaud. The two boys each took a plate of food and went into the living room. The rest of the crowd was oblivious to the boys' reaction; they were too excited about finding the will and the news of the scholarship. Guy and Matty distanced themselves, drifting so deeply in their own thoughts that they forgot to tell anyone about John Melvin Sugardale coming.
The two young lovers sat alone on the sofa in the Johnsons' living room. Neither could break the silence. Finally, Matty startled Guy from his contemplation.
"Congratulations, Guy. I know how much that scholarship means to you."
"That was before. Now I have you. What am I going to do, Matty? I couldn't leave you; I love you."
"I love you too, Guy, but this is your future. You've worked so hard at acting. It's your dream! I couldn't stand in your way."
"I can't leave you, Matty. I won't."
"It will only be for a few years," Matty reassured.
"Three very long years. That's nearly a fifth of my entire life."
"We'll visit. We'll write. You'll see," Matty continued, trying to convince his buddy.
"I couldn't. Not after everything that's happened. I couldn't do it. I just couldn't bear to leave you."
"Let's sleep on it, Guy. Let's not get all worked up tonight. I'm sure it will all look better in the morning."
No matter how hard Guy tried, he couldn't seem to cheer himself up. He didn't want to leave his lover, nor his brothers and sisters for that matter. He pretended to be happy, but he wasn't. The two boys sat in the living room, their appetites dimmed as the rest of the party filtered in to join them. It was easy for Guy to brave the crowd and disguise his true feelings in the crowded room.
Well now, what do you all think? I love a good mystery. I hate to leave you here, all down. Sorry about that, but I promise the best is yet to come. Yep, those were puns and intended. Don't be bashful, send your comments the address is the same Justin69SK@aol.com
I'd like to thank my editor Joey, for his outstanding ability to make my work come alive with vibrancy. He has such a way with descriptive verbs. I would also like to thank my editor Sarah, without whom I'd be lost. She is my sounding board, as she lives here. I`d also like to thank Ed, the final copy editor of this chapter. Ed began his editing career on Nifty with me, a year ago this month. He now edits for several others, as well. It was a conversation with Ed that inspired this story.