This story contains sexual contact between males. If it is unlawful or inappropriate for you to be here, please leave now. The story and characters are fictional, I hope you enjoy it. Your emails and responses are appreciated. A great thanks to Pete for all his input and editing.
Just Walk Away - Part One
"Your Honor, I object!" the growling Defense Attorney cried.
"Judge, please, let the Boy tell his story," the District Attorney pleaded in his western drawl.
"I want both of you to take your seats, or I'll find you in contempt. This is MY courtroom and I'll decide who says what in here," replied the angry Judge.
The Judge turned my way and in a soft voice he said, "Son, I want you to relax and tell your story, in your own words. No one will interrupt you, or they'll find out how lumpy our jailhouse beds are." He said this while staring at the Attorneys.
"Yes, Sir, I mean Your Honor. I'm ready to tell my story, it won't be easy, but I know I need to get it out there, or I'll never have peace," I replied.
I sat on a bench, smoking a cigarette, watching the house across Fulton Street between 25th Avenue and Presidio Blvd. I leaned back against the bench labeled `Property of Golden Gate Park'. It was a bit surreal to see all the Police cars pulling in from different directions and that's when I noticed the Black guy sitting on the next bench, he was getting nervous, and I could see the beads of perspiration on his brow. I turned my attention back to the brownstone and watched with detached interest as the Cops raided the place. It wasn't long before Uncle Jonny ran out the side door, he always had an escape route planned in advance and he always told me what it would be too; that's why the cops were waiting for him.
Uncle Johnny looked in my direction. I knew he would. I drew a bit more smoke and then crushed the cigarette with my sneaker. The Cops moved in and, just like I figured, he pointed towards me and shouted, "Look there! That's the guy with the stuff, go get him."
I turned to the Black guy and said, "Looks like the heat is coming your way."
What is it about Black guys that always make them run when the cops are coming at them? Anyway, as the Police chased the wrong guy, I was able to just walk away.
Heading towards Crossover Drive I entered the park. I passed the Barbecue Pits and found myself on Middle Drive West. The Cops had headed the other way, but as soon as they captured that poor Black guy, they would realize they had the wrong man and I would be in trouble. I needed to get a new identity and a cover if I was stay free. I knew Uncle Jonny would be singing my name and telling my story and I needed to be a long way from where I was if I was to survive.
Just ahead, two vans were unloading a group of High School boys all dressed in their track uniforms. I ran up next to the first van and turned to look at the second one just as one of the runners jumped out of the passenger seat. Our eyes locked. His were as hazel as mine, we were built with the same body frame and I don't know if I was more struck by how much we looked alike, or how cute he was. I vaguely remember my smile looking a lot like his, his skin was smooth with some fine hairs shading his legs. His hair was shorter than my shoulder length locks, but the same brown as mine... that is, before Uncle Jonny decided I should be a blonde and bleached it during one of his higher moments. I watched my boy throw his gym bag to the ground next to some others and I made a note that his was green, while the others around it were all black or blue. As the Coach organized the boys for their run, I saw a women get out of the driver's side of the second van and take her place next to all the bags. She waved at my boy and yelled, "Have a good run, Ryan!"
The Coach yelled back, "Thanks for keeping an eye on the equipment Mrs. Martins." The boys began their run towards Stow Lake and I reached into the first van and grabbed a yellow shirt reading, Abraham Lincoln High School Track Team. Just then, I saw the Cop car driving slowly past the Polo Fields and in my direction. I ran off with my new shirt without being noticed by Mrs. Martins or the Heat.
I crossed the lawn separating us from M.L.K. Drive and saw a Park Maintenance truck parked along the drive. It was pulling a trailer meant to carry the mower that was being driven across the lawn. In the back of the truck was a pair of bush trimmers. I took them out and looked into the rearview mirror as I carefully cut off my long hair and threw it into a bag with some lawn debris. My shirt followed and I slipped off my jeans leaving me in a pair of black boxers that looked pretty much like the shorts the track team wore. I pulled my new shirt over my head and ran back towards the two vans from the direction the boys had headed.
I ran quickly and with excitement in my voice, I yelled towards the lady sitting there reading her book.
"Mrs. Martins, Mrs. Martins," I yelled, "The Coach says he needs to you right away up the path, Ryan is hurt. I'll stay here and watch the equipment." Just like I figured, she didn't even look at me, but went running after her boy, my boy, and now I'm him, as I grabbed his bag and ran off towards Spreckels Lake.
I ran along J.F.K. Drive, past the lake, the Buffalo Paddock, and looked at the strange Dutch Windmill on my left as I exited the park on 47th Ave. I continued my run all the way to Balboa Street. There on one corner was a drug store and the other a Mickey Ds. I reached into my boy Ryan's bag to see what I had and was pleased to see a wallet and a complete change of clothes. I kind of looked forward to getting into his stuff, I can't explain why. I bought what I needed and headed to the McMen's room. Once secure in the toilet stall, I stripped and took out the box of `Just for Men' hair dye. I took a quick leak, flushed twice and applied the dark lotion all over my hair. I looked into the small mirror I had purchased to make certain the job was complete. Then I dunked my head into the toilet to wash off the excess dye. I quickly cleaned up as best as possible with some paper towels. Then I began to dress in Ryan clothes. His shirt and pants fit pretty well, but his shoes were one size larger than I normally wore, that made me wonder if that old adage that says a man's shoe size is an indication of length of his dick. Now imagining Ryan naked and hard, I felt my own dick begin to grow. No time for this, I thought, and pushed out of the stall and dried my hair under the hand blower. I grabbed my gym bag and headed towards the bus stop. Down California, towards the piers, soon I was in the Embarcadero District, Pier 17 across from Green Street. This was a perfect place, filled with lots of people and activity. Uncle Johnny always said, "Put your stuff where everybody looks, but nobody sees". I walked around the back near the trash and, making sure I was alone, I slipped behind the trash bins and pushed open a large board making a hole just big enough for a skinny guy like me to slide into. That's another thing Uncle Johnny always said, "Don't get fat, you do your best work when you're hungry", so sometimes he'd just not feed me for a few days to make sure.
I guess this would be a good time to explain to you that Uncle Johnny wasn't really my Uncle. He was just the last guy to keep my Mom around for sex and money before she was arrested. Once she went in, I had no one else to turn to. They say the guy who knocked up Mom was some rich guy who ran as soon as he heard she was pregnant with me. Things went downhill for Mom at that point. It was hard to find work and take care of a kid, so her life continued to get worse. Soon all that was left for her was selling herself and working for guys like Uncle Johnny so I could have a bed. Mom did her best making sure I knew to "Always make the best of a bad day and never give up". Gosh, I can't believe how many times I heard that and here I am making sure I stick to that plan by not giving up and, hopefully, not getting caught by any of Uncle Johnny's boys, or my life would be a whole lot shorter.
Once under the building, I found the duffle bag and dragged it back to the hole, sliding it out behind me.
"Hey Kid, give me that or else," came a roar from behind me. It was Ray and Burt, they worked for Johnny and for sure he sent them here to get me and the duffle. I had to think quickly and slid back in the hole, squirming to another wall. Uncle Johnny always told me his escape route, but I never told him mine. I kicked open another board and I was out and on the run. I slid around the corner and grabbed the gym bag I had hidden and headed for the street. Looking back, I could see Burt gaining on me and I quickly jumped a wall and ran down Green Street just in time to grab the back of the Street Car heading back towards the city. I looked back at Burt and saw him take a picture of me with his cell phone. It wouldn't take long for him to get that all around the city. It was time to leave town.
The Bus station on Mission was always busy; the first bus out, no matter where it was heading was my plan and so I was off to Sacramento. I was lucky to have the full backbench to myself, keeping both my gym bag and duffle close to my feet. It was around Fairfield when she got on. She was in her early twenties and smiled at me all the way down the aisle. She sat next to me and made puppy eyes at me. It wouldn't be the first time my slim sixteen-year-old body would make someone older look at me like that. Uncle Johnny always said, "If it feels good, it can't be bad."
She told me her name was Mary and she just kept staring; I had to talk to her.
"What's wrong? Why are you looking at me like that?" I asked.
"Sorry, it's your hair. Who butchered your head so badly?" she asked.
"Oh, my Mom, she got mad because, I let it grow, she says if I don't get it to look like this, I can't come home." I pulled out a nice picture of my boy. He was smiling, he smiled in all his pictures and he smiled at me. What the hell is wrong with that guy? Why is he so happy?
"I can fix it, if you want," she said quietly.
"Fix what?" I asked.
"Your hair, silly, I've got the scissors right here and with just a few little snips, I can make you look just like your brother."
"My brother, what do you mean?"
"Well you two must be brothers, you look too much alike not to be, are you twins?"
I looked at Ryan's picture and said, "Yeah, we're twins, I lied. Mom wants me to look just like Bryan."
"Oh, I see your license says you're Ryan," looking at the open wallet of my boy. "So it's Ryan and Bryan, how cute," she smiled.
"Yeah, cute, so can you cut it to look just like Ryan's, I mean Bryan's?" I asked.
"Sure look this way." And she snipped and cut and combed and in a few minutes, I looked in her compact mirror and swore I was Ryan Martins. So now, that's who I am. I smiled thinking how easy it was to take my boy's identity and... just walk away.
To be continued.....