Tristan

Tristan by Henry H. Hilliard

This work fully protected under The United States Copyright Laws 17 USC 101, 102(a), 302(a). All Rights Reserved. The author retains all rights. No reproductions are allowed without the author's consent.

If reading this story is not legal in your jurisdiction, stop it right now.

If you enjoy this story, please consider making a donation to Nifty to keep this platform alive.

Chapter 22

Tristan scanned the arrivals at Dallas-Forth Worth, playing that game of swiftly ascribing character and occupation to each passenger as they filed out of the customs' door. He checked again on his phone to make sure it was the correct flight. The human flood rose then dwindled to a trickle and still there was no sight of Colt. The passengers were now increasingly oriental in appearance and so Tristan figured they must be from the Hong Kong flight that had arrived at the same time, not the ones from London. He was just starting to worry--if not actually feeling a rising panic--when Colt's voice called his name. Colt and the girls were over to one side where Tristan hadn't been looking. He felt relief and this was followed almost immediately by a spreading warmth somewhere between his chest and his loins; he had forgotten how hot his roommate looked and here he was after five days' absence, wearing a scruffy blonde beard, his best Wranglers and a long-sleeved tee-shirt that hugged his sculpted body.

"They ushered us off with great promptitude," said Kavitha in her sing-song Hindi accent and backed this up with a little no-nonsense smile for Tristan's benefit. She said something to Muihui as she reached for her pair of crutches, for Kavitha had been stricken with polio as a child and moved awkwardly. Muihui looked up from her phone and Tristan said hullo. Muihui looked at him neutrally and returned to her phone where she was putting in the word `baggage' into the Mandarin translator.

"Howdy, Tris!" said Colton, brightly. Thanks a heap for pickin' us up. Long flight and I'm mighty glad to be back in God's own country."

"Surely not the Dallas Metro Area?" said Tristan making a joke as the four of them moved towards Baggage Claim.

This turn of events had come about just five weeks earlier--the week that Colton was selling his underwear--when he received a polite email from the President of the University to join him for refreshments' on a certain afternoon. Colton had assumed it was to do with football and merely changed into a clean and relatively new tee-shirt (most others having already been earmarked for sale) and his better shorts and trainers'--as Tristan termed them.

Dr Israel W. Barlow was from Utah and had a degree in jurisprudence. He had worked for the Bush administration before accepting this posting. Therefore there was no alcohol at the little party in the Presidential suite of rooms where Colton found himself, and indeed the President took neither tea nor coffee himself.

Among the group were Dr Leith his Biology professor, Dr Karen Shue the Dean of the Science Faculty and two fellow students, Kavitha and Muihui. Colton was well-known to all as the football team's quarterback and Colton had already met President Barlow several times over the academic year. The girls, like him, were just first year Biology students.

"Colton," explained Dr Leith, "We have received an invitation from the University of London to send three freshmen to a conference and to speak at the Linnaean Society."

"I was just explaining to Miss Bhatt here," he turned to Kavitha, "that the nominated students will be expected to outline their term research paper to the meeting of the Society. This is so they can get a feel of the work we are doing here with undergrads. Do you know what I mean by `an abstract'?" Colton nodded. "Well, just ten to fifteen minutes presentation and they might ask questions after that. Would you be prepared to do it?"

"It is a great honour, Mr Stone," said Dr Barlow, ponderously.

"I know, Sir. The Linnaean Society is real old an' some o' the greatest naturalists were members. Don't know what I could say that would be fittin'."

"That's not the point, Mr Stone," said Dr Shue. "They were merely interested in representative standards in tertiary research in this country--in this institution rather--and it is very much a goodwill exercise. Until now our closest ties have been with other American centres and an exchange program with London could be a magnificent opportunity."

"It fits in with our ten year plan," said Dr Barlow with finality.

"Your work is more than representative," interjected Dr Leith who was slightly embarrassed. "It is representative of our honours standard in Biological Science and the committee chose your work for that reason."

"You will be excused classes, of course," resumed the President, "and this institution will pay your airfares. The University of London will provide accommodation and meals."

Colton was slightly shaken but admitted that he was agreeable and walked to the side to pour himself a glass of orange juice--the coffee being undrinkable. While the President and Dr Shue turned their attention to the young ladies, Dr Leith followed Colton and spoke quietly.

"Colton, I will run over your abstract with you before we send it off--Doris will email it," he added, naming his genial secretary. "It was very good, you know, even for a senior, and it would make an excellent research topic for a thesis."

"Thanks, Dr Leith, population adaptation is an interest of mine."

"And--err--the work of Miss Bhatt and Miss Chen is very interesting too."

"Negative bio-feedback in collapsing fish stocks and light pollution on nocturnal species in urban areas."

"Yes, quite. Well, I feel that you have been very collaborative with both young women--already."

Colton knew what he was driving at. "Kavitha's work just needed a little tidyin' up--her meth'dology was sound all right. Muihi, well, her English ain't very good..."

"It seems nonexistent to me."

"Well, this College did accept her as an overseas student..."

"Yes, I know," said Dr Leith in a tired voice. "Would you please present her paper in London as well as your own? I assume you had a hand in writing it," he finished bluntly.

"She was my prac partner and so I needed her to pass."

Dr Leith raised his eyebrows helplessly to heaven and muttered something about `politics' as they returned to the others.

The party ended and Colton left with a folder of papers containing the details of the forthcoming trip. He was excited but apprehensive at the same time and wondered how he would feel when he had outlined the proposal to Tristan.

Irritatingly, Tristan was not at the dorm when he got back. He paced the room and flipped through the folder. He practically fell upon his roommate when he returned from the Library.

"Tris, I'm goin' to London!" he blurted out.

They read through the material together.

"Right," said Tristan. "Passport first. We just have enough time to get one, I think."

"What will I wear?" Colton lamented. "The Linnaean Society will be pretty hoity-toity, I reckon."

Tristan reckoned that too. "We'll go to Dallas and get you a suit. We can do the passport stuff there as well. International roaming for your phone: we'll get that. You've got a credit card?" Colton had.

Next they went to the Common Room to share the news with their friends. Colton was teased a little by Hollis--`a cowboy in London'--but a slap to the side of his head put Colton's teammate back in his proper place.

Later that night the boys had gone to bed. Colton was laying on his side of the bed, unable to close his eyes, hands clasped behind his head and staring towards the darkened ceiling. "Will I be all right in London, Tris? I mean, how should I behave?" There was a child-like anxiety in his voice that Tristan hadn't heard before.

"You'll be fine, just like I was when I came to Texas."

"That ain't the same thang. Your folks were rich and you already bin places--New York."

"That was for ten days when I was twelve."

"Well, when you came here you were already kinda superior and stuff..."

"Me?" cried Tristan.

"Moi?" teased Colton. "No, I meant kinda sophisticated n'mysterious and y'all held stuff inside." Here he tapped his naked chest. "Like Ben, you kinda already know stuff and what t'expect and how t'act n'stuff."

"Look Colt, you have to be yourself. Just be your usual, friendly self. Okay, maybe tone it done a notch--talk quietly, no backslapping and whooping, for example. English people are not very demonstrable, but that doesn't mean they don't like you. In fact they are suspicious of people who are overly friendly as they think they are phonies or mental cases or trying to muscle in where they don't belong."

"That's what they'll think of me. I won't belong."

"No they won't. Besides, there'll be people from lots of other countries too, I imagine."

"M'bey."

"What's your dissertation on, anyway?"

Colton propped up on one elbow and looked straight at Tristan who was more properly in his own bed. "It's on frequency-dependant selection--you know, for populations of plants and animals."

"Even humans?"

"Yeah, but I was working on data from snake populations."

"Oh."

"Well, y'see some phenotypes have positive feedbacks...." Tristan's blank look must have been visible even in the moonlight. "Like the colour and markings on a species of snake might make it more likely to survive and mate to pass on its characteristics, which we call its `phenotype'.

"You mean like its ability to camouflage?"

"Yeah or even mimic other species for advantage. Well, those characteristics increase in a population. Then for negative phenotypes, they should decrease in populations as they are less successful in the struggle to survive and breed."

Tristan thought he should encourage him to go on, so he nodded slightly.

"Well, it's a heap more complicated that that, o'course. Some advantages only kick in when the whole population has the same phenotype, but in some cases there are advantages to being an individual snake that has characteristics different from the main population, but when those differences become the mainstream--like attractin' mates-- then the theory is that they should become less apparent in the population."

"But another individual snake could then develop some oddball advantage and it would start all over again," contributed Tristan.

"That's right, but my paper raises a few points that challenge the model and I go into a bit of Math which I won't bore you with."

"Shit!"

"Dr Leith says it's `interestin'."

"You're a genius, Roomy."

"Nah, it's just freshman Biology. It will be a bit rich my jawin' to the Linnaean Society, but I knows it's just a publicity thang."

"But still, I'm fuckin' impressed!" Tristan was quiet for a moment then said, "Is having a big dick a positive phenotype?"

"Well, let's see. Is it a characteristic that can be passed on?

"Dacey is pretty hung," suggested Tristan.

"Yeah, Dad and Mitch too."

"So there!"

"Yeah, but what advantage is it? Doesn't make y'more fertile. Might help attract and keep a mate, but some girls are put off by m'huge piece."

"I would have said big' not huge'," qualified Tristan.

"It's huge, Tris. Y'screamed it out y'self when we was out camping."

"Point."

"Well, if my tribe or clan had lots of offspring with big dicks that would be part of the phenotype or genotype, but there would be some with small dicks, like y'own."

"It's not small, it's average!"

Colton ignored him. "Well, that might be a positive phenotype if it made it easier to run away from danger, for example, but it might be a negative one if it was useless for intimidating your enemies when y'waggled it at them."

"So?"

"So a population might have a balance between big dicks and small ones and reach a sort of polymorphic equilibrium."

"Because both are useful qualities?"

"Yeah, but I'm bringing out some points that this guy Poulton first raised ages ago. Now it's J.O. time or I won't get to sleep! Make me cum in these boxers; they've got to go to a thirty year-old guy in Kalamazoo, Michigan, an' he wants 'em real stiff and stinkin' for his forty-five bucks."

Thus it was that four-week's later that Tristan found he was driving Colton, Kavitha and Muihui to the airport. While Muihui had her eyes only on her phone, Kavitha did notice that both Colton and his roommate, their driver, kept rubbing their breasts. She did not imagine the cause: Tristan and Colton had both been to a piercing saloon in Dallas.

"Oh Fuck! Childbirth can be this fuckin' painful!" cried Colton, tears filling the husky quarterback's baby blue eyes.

"Fuck you!" responded Tristan in his own agony. "You've only got one; I've had two."

"Yeah, but mine's much thicker."

It was true, for Colton's right nipple now sported a thick gauge horseshoe of pink gold, the little balls of which could be conveniently unscrewed for removal during the football season. Tristan had two small barbells piercing his smaller teats, but it would be some months before they could indulge in any `tit play' as it was called in the stories that Tristan had read, because their wounds would be slow to heal and there was a tedious regimen of swabs and ointments until that day. Nevertheless, with the reckless optimism of the young, Colt looked at himself in the mirror, puffing out his chest with its asymmetrical ornament. "Do I look hot, Tris?" This inquiry was punctuated by a slight wince.

"Yeah, fuckin' hot on your big nip, Colt," replied Tristan with enthusiasm, "and it balances your asymmetrical balls."

"Never thought of that. Yours look cool. They're better than getting' tats, don't y'reckon?"

"I think we've reached peak ink. I know most of the other dudes have ink, but look at Hollis; he's got the name of some chick he dated as a junior on his arm."

"Yeah, and that one right across his back, Remember the Alamo' --there's two letters missin' in Remember'. Y'can't say Holly looks hot."

"He looks hot, Colt," said Tristan in an even voice.

"Well, I woulda thank y'all d'be more concerned with spellin', y'slut." Tristan laughed. "Hey, how's the plug?"

"It hurts like a bitch. I'm in a world of pain."

"While we're here, wanna ask y'Dad if we can use the cabin one weekend? I mean just you and me. We could make as much noise as we wanted."

"You mean I could."

"Well, yeah and we could take the boat out."

"Sure," said Tris who would put up with fishing if it meant Colt would fuck him.

Next, a new navy blue suit from Brooks Brothers in West Village was purchased, Tristan insisting on paying for this luxury item and Cylvah insisting that Colton model it back at the apartment. Of course he looked like a fashion plate in it. The passport would be forwarded by post within a fortnight.

Now that passport had been stamped and the blue suit had had its airing at the Linnaean Society in Burlington House, Piccadilly, and its owner was now sitting in Tristan's truck and being driven the three hours back to University.

"How did your dissertation go, Kavitha?" asked Tristan, sensing a slight tension in the vehicle.

"It went quite well, Tristan, but I was experiencing some nervousness. However, the academics there were fully supportive and I am knowing that I must steel myself."

"And what was the accommodation like, Muihui?"

The Chinese student was not expecting a question to be directed at her and looked up from her phone in alarm. "Please?"

"What was the college like, where you slept? Was it a nice place?"

"I no have good Ringlish. My family Chinee." Kavitha spoke hurriedly and quietly to her and she evidently caught on. "Loom very nice, but noise. I scare."

"You were scared?"

"I'll tell you about it later, Tris. The rooms were very nice for an old building. It was just off Russell Square, do you know it?"

"Russell Square? Yeah, sort of, it's in Bloomsbury."

"That is correct," said Kavitha. "On the Piccadilly Line so we could reach Burlington House and the Natural History Museum in South Kensington very conveniently. St Martins-in-the-Fields also."

"You went to the Museum?"

"Yeah, it was fantastic, Tris," said Colton, enthusiastically.

"And you went to church?"

"We were invited to a special service, but I didn't go--I'm not a believer."

"Colton was otherwise engaged," said Kavitha, primly, "but we attended and represented our University. I also am not a Christian."

"It wasn't compulsory, Kavitha," said Colton crossly. "I had other things I wanted to do." Kavitha gave a small snort.

"Did you get to the Cocoon at the Darwin Centre?"

"Err...no, not this time. But I'm goin' back f'sure."

"Well," said Tristan at the wheel, unable to think of anything to say and not quite understanding what was going on.

"Hey Tris! Look at this," said Colton breaking the awkwardness. He fished out his phone from his tight jeans and brought up a picture.

"Wow! That's you guys with Sir David Attenborough." Colton swiped for him and there was a great shot of just Colton with the naturalist. "Print it and hang it on the wall."

"I've got his autograph too--wrote me a greetin' on m'dissertation."

"Colton's work was very well received," said Kavitha with some degree of warmth.

"Thanks, Kavitha."

"Despite everything."

"Jemma she like it," said Muihui and giggled. They all turned to her.

"What?" asked Tristan.

"Nothing, Tris. Kavitha is exaggerating. I'll explain later."

Later' was in fact quite late and some hours after the long drive from Dallas. Colton had bounced around Charles C. Selecman House for quite a while, anxious to catch up with his friends who were more than polite in asking Colt How was it?'

Colton was a little more forthcoming when he was settled into his bed, with Tristan not far away and `all ears'.

"I had a great time, Tris. I saw some stuff and met some folks who were inspirational--such as Sir David (and here Colt gave an American's full value to the separate words) and I really wanna go back and explore the museums some more."

"And London itself?"

"Big n'grey, but kinda beautiful. Ev'thang is so old and it's real multi-cultural."

"They were nice to you?"

"Yeah." There was a short pause while Colton decided what to say. "We was met at Heathrow by a couple o' honours students, Gary n' Jemma."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. They welcomed us right friendly. I'd been helping Kavitha with stuff , o'course, and Muihui just drifts through uncomprehendin'; she almost doesn't react to the world around her, but she was better when we got to Russell Square because there were some Chinese students there an' she was a diff'rent person.

"There was a little party for us on the first night--real polite and very British, The room was so old and beautiful--Hogwarts' style--but the students and professors were pretty cool. Jemma Swire introduced me to quite a few important ones, but I forgot their names straight away. I took your advice, Tris, and kept myself real low-key. A few asked me if I played football back home.

"Anyways, I was in m'room on the first night, dog tired, and there was a whole heap o'racket goin' on. The students was having some sort of `rag'--they called it--an' these assholes were drunk and runnin' up and down the hall and yellin' and bangin' on doors. I didn't think English dudes would behave like savages."

"Never heard of soccer hooligans?"

"It freaked the girls and Kavitha came and got me."

"I hope you were dressed."

"Found a towel. Anyways, I roared the shit out of some of the drunk assholes--I can be pretty intimidatin' when I wants t'be. Some privileged pricks made fun o'm'accent real hoity-toity-like. I surely woulda liked t'fuck them up, an' I coulda too, 'xceptin' I was a visitor an holdin' a towel around m'self. Then the girls insisted I sleep in their room. Muihui was shakin' and cryin' an' Kavitha was scared 'cause she couldn't defend herself, o'course. So I slept on the floor and they settled down. The next day Muihui said I snored but brought me a present." Colton got out of bed and rummaged though his bag. He produced a fluffy toy with a Union Jack around its neck.

"A bulldog!"

"Yeah, his name is Dishi, which Muihui said means `man of virtue' because I was their guard dog and protector."

"Well, that's very sweet. You're a good big brother."

"Yeah, but Kavitha does't think I'm such a Dishi."

"Why, what happened?"

"Well, this Jessica had the hots for me an' she pretty much ignored the other two. I mean she was great lookin' and all sorta snobbish n' sophisticated but I don't think I was 'xactly her type. I mean she spoke like Princess Di an' didn't dress like a slut, like most of the chicks round here. So she'd put shit on me, but she was real interested at the same time. Know what I mean?"

"She liked a bit of rough trade, we say."

"Yeah, I guess the nipple ring that she could see through m'good shirt told her that. Well, anyway, she was gettin' right flirty at the cocktail party and even squeezed m'ass when no one was lookin', but nothin' much happened.

"The next day--after the dissertations--she asks me if I want to go to a dance club that night. A place she goes to called XOYO in Islington. Know it?"

"I've heard of it. Pretty hip."

"Well, I said that I was with Kavitha and Muihui and I'd like them to come too. She says some right nasty things about them and I tell her to shut the fuck up and I definitely wouldn't go with her. She don't take rejection too well and gets more than frosty an' I reckon she woulda slapped m'face if we weren't in a public place. Real spiteful temper, despite her smokin' body and gorgeous face."

"So you stayed home with the girls? That's really nice, Colt."

"Yeah, well, this Jessica don't give up and tried to get me all the next day when we were at the natural History Museum and havin' lunch an' sightseein' an' stuff. She was a real bitch to Kavitha and Muihui and they felt it, I know. Then she comes to my room an..."

"And you fucked her."

"Yeah an' then we go to the XOYO an then back to her room where I..."

"Fucked her again?"

" 'fraid so. And then I fucked her and I fucked her n' she sucked me off an' I fucked her some more."

"Shit, Colt!"

"Well, I was real horny and also I wanted to give it to her hard for bein' such a bitch. Want to know how many times I fucked her that night and again the next morning?" Colton held up a certain number of fingers and had to let go of his cock and his phone to do so. "I fucked her so hard she..."

"I get the picture, Roomy. Used protection?" Colton nodded.

"Well, I missed the visit to St Martins-in-the-Field the next day and only caught up with the girls when it was time to leave. They didn't know what had happened to me. Jessica didn't come to see us off, needless to say. Despite the sex, she was real pissed off at me an' threw me out at about three in the afternoon. Slapped me an' didn't even wanna let me take m'clothes."

"I guess it was a hate fuck."

"Yeah. Complicated, huh?" He paused in thought. "Y'know, I coulda sold her bed sheets an' paid for the XOYO and the cab ride."

"Well, you're a seasoned traveller now, Colt, and your story has got me real hot. If we go to the cabin next weekend, will you fuck me like you fucked Jessica?"

"I'd have to pretend, 'cause I don't hate you, Tris."

"I know, but it would be really hot to see you pull out all stops. It's what you're made for."

"Thanks--I think."

"And I've had that new butt plug in. Fuck it hurts!"

"Yeah, but it gets me real hot thankin' o'y'all open wide an' gapin' fo' y'man."

"Yeah, me too. Let me sample some of your love gravy. Jessica doesn't seem to have dried you up."

"Yeah, I'm good for it, Roomy. Just be careful o'm'nip; that bitch practically chewed it off n' I was still bleedin' when I went through the metal detector. Embarrassin'!"

The weekend at the cabin had to be put off for another week because Colton found he had to work for Dr Baddeley on the Saturday as well as for three lunch hours during the week. Colton still found that he enjoyed the experience and tried his hardest to do a good job. Many of the students who sat down at his table and chatted about all manner of things Colton came to realise were lonely or possibly even suffering from depression. The big university could be a lonely place for kids away from home for the first time. Then there were cases where there were problems with boyfriends and girlfriends (although most of the customers for Colton were guys) and a few instances, Colton also realised, where the students were struggling with their sexuality. He asked Dr Baddeley about this.

"You've got your head screwed on right, Cowboy," she began. "It's difficult for even professionals to pick up the signs of depression and the causes are multifunctional."

"Can it be caused by stuff happening, like failing grades or a relationship bust up, or does it have to be a chemical imbalance or somethin', Ma'am?"

"Both. And a life event might trigger it in one person who's predisposed--if there's a history in the family for example--and not in another person."

"I suppose drugs and booze...?"

"Yeah, big triggers. Read up on the signs to look for and get the students to talk. Don't try and guess the cause, but stress that `this is affecting your life' and they need to talk to a professional. One of us or on the help line."

Colton made to leave. "Hey, Mr Stone, y'doing a great job." Colton blushed. "How was y'trip to England?"

"Pretty rushed, Dr B, but it was good--good for me I reckon. First time out of the country."

"It's a big world, but what y'doin' here will help y'understand other folks. Do y'know what I mean?"

"I think so."

"Pity y'can't go back to London."

Colton looked startled. "What do y'all mean, Doc? Sure I can go back."

"A certain girl called Jessica?" Dr Baddeley grinned.

"What! How did...? Jesus, is there no privacy?! That Kavitha Bhatt! It was her, wasn't it?"

"Patient confidentiality," said Dr Baddeley primly, but clearly enjoying the footballer's discomfort.

"Look, she was someone I met. Nice girl who went to a school called Cheltenham and is now majoring in Biochem at London University."

"Be careful, Cowboy, or one day you'll get that big heart broken."

Colton made a sound that might be written as `Hurumph!' He paused then said: "I reckon y'gotta put y'self out there, Doc, even if y'gets burned sometime. Only nineteen, so I've got some oats to sow."

"Probably right. Y'got a wise head on those big shoulders. I'd give you a kiss if I was your mom, but m'husband might kick me out."

"He should be so lucky!" said Colton over his shoulder as he made for the door.

"Cheeky bugger!" said Dr Baddeley to herself.

Tristan was beginning to feel the strain of `the house project' as he termed it. It now seemed that every day he had to make snap decisions while the builders waited expectantly. Ben and Ivy, his architects, similarly wanted him to decide on details. "Look, I don't care about light switches as long as they turn on the lights," he said to Ivy in exasperation while they sat in the coffee shop.

"You say that now, Tris, but would you really like white plastic ones on the dining room panelling?"

"No, I don't suppose so," he replied wearily. "We'll have the bronze ones. Do they have to be specially made?" he asked, as every change seemed to require `bespoke' (the architects' favourite word) fitments that added to the ever-ballooning cost.

"No, they're shipped from a supplier near Seattle--the same one that supplies the bronze lanterns."

"Yes, and how many of those buggers at $300 each do we need again?"

"Three hundred and forty and its ten for inside and two for outside."

"Ouch!"

"They'll look great in the old part of the house, Tris. It's the detailing you know."

"Yeah, I know, and thanks Ivy, I really am grateful."

"You know, often designing and building your own house can be the greatest adventure in a person's life--even if they don't feel it at the time."

"I'll try to think that way."

"Now, I can tell you of two ways we can save money."

"This I want to hear," said Tristan laughing on the inside at the use of `we'.

"Well, Ben and I think that the insulating straw-in-wire mesh will look better in the loft's ceiling than the plywood sandwich. We'll use the ply just for the walls, which are only four feet high on the sides anyway, and we'll do the ceiling in the straw which is slightly cheaper."

"Okay, if you think it best. And the other way?"

"I heard from the friend-of-a-friend that a cafe is disposing of two dozen chairs. I think they might do for the dining room." She took out her phone.

"Twenty four! We only need nine or ten for the dining room."

"Yeah, but for the other parts of the house--like every bedroom and desk needs a chair and they'd all match."

Tristan looked at the picture. "Bentwood chairs? They look nice, but too fragile, Ivy. This will be a house for footballers, I don't think they'll stand up."

"No, you're wrong. They are actually very sturdy due to their clever design, Tris, and this type doesn't have caned seats. A thousand bucks for the lot."

"That's cheap, I'll admit. I'd need to see them. Where are they?"

"Waco. You could put them in your truck."

Tristan allowed himself to be persuaded, for Ivy had good instincts, and he knew it.

"And I'll need to rent a storage locker for them and a whole heap of other stuff."

"Good idea. There's the pool table and you might like to look for furniture over the next few months."

"Very true," said Tristan and he finished his coffee in one decisive gulp.

It was Deshawn who volunteered to accompany Tristan on the trip to Waco. They laughed and joked and the hours passed quickly. De was enthusiastic about the new house and not at all phased about sharing with eight others. "Ain't as crowded as m'home in The Projects," he commented wryly.

As an engineer, Deshawn was terribly creative--even eccentric--and he tossed off all sorts of inventive ideas about the house design. "I was a real geek at elementary school and the other kids picked on me, can y' believe it, Dude?" Here he did a double bicep pose in his wifebeater while sitting in the passenger seat. It was very impressive; De had a beautiful body--the equal of Colton's, but different.

"Fuck!" cried Tristan in amused admiration. "You can do me anytime."

"Well that ain't happening, gay boy." He laughed. "Well, when I was a junior I really started to fill out all of a sudden like, and then football took over. No punk picked on me no mo'."

The address was a closed motel on La Salle Avenue, not far from Baylor University, but perhaps far enough for the unappealing motel and its cafe to have failed. The seller, Floyd, was the brother or brother-in-law of the owner or one of the owners--it was never made clear and he said that he was busy clearing the place before the realtors arrived to assess it for sale. In reality, the smell of dope suggested that he had not been working very hard at all.

"Where y'goin' to go man?" asked Deshawn.

"Boone and me are thinkin' of movin' up to Wichita Falls and openin' a vape store. Reckon there's money to be made in vapin'--and it's legal there--mostly--in bars an' such."

Tristan and Deshawn assured him that this was indeed a plan, Deshawn going so far as to say their experience in hospitality would be an asset in any new venture.

"Can we see the chairs?" asked Tristan at last. Floyd led them into the shuttered cafe. It seemed a pity that it had failed, for whatever reason, because the room had been smartly done out--perhaps the forerunner of an aborted renovation for the whole motel. The chairs were piled up roughly and a couple were untangled and stood on the floor for inspection. They seemed to be in good order, maybe a few scratches being visible on the chocolate brown varnish. "We need to test them. Would you do the honours, De?"

Deshawn lowered his bulky form gently. "No, De, sit normally, that's the whole idea." He repeated the action and the chair did not collapse. "Now relax and lean back." Deshawn did and the chair was good. The vendor and Tristan regarded the scene with a critical eye. "Lean right back and see what the chair does." De put his legs out straight and stretched his spine. The back legs slipped forward and the footballer landed on his arse with a bump. He was unhurt and laughing.

"No one's gonna lean back that far, Tris. I reckon the chairs is okay." Tristan thought so too.

"I'll give you eight hundred for the lot," he ventured as forcefully as he could.

"I'd take that, buddy, but Boone'd skin me for lettin' 'em go for a song. They's practically new. A grand."

"Nine hundred, cash, and I'll take them now."

"Done an' I'd be might grateful if'n y'did take 'em now afore Boone gets back."

The cash was handed over and Tristan wondered if the sale had even been legal. Meanwhile, Deshawn had started to ferry them out to the truck where they formed an untidy tangle and a rope threaded through the hooped backs would hopefully secure the cargo for the return trip.

There were few regrets leaving Waco and, driving back, Deshawn continued to reveal something of his life. He confessed an interest in `steam punk'. "Ya know what that is, dude?"

Tristan replied that he thought it was sci-fi with an emphasis on retro technology, like from Jules Verne's day.

"That be a good definition, dude. I has a whole heap o'games and stories, but I sure don't spread that round in the locker room."

"It's your secret vice?"

"Yeah. Well, not 'xactly a secret, but I know you won't blab n'embarrass me. I'm still a frightened nerd on the inside," he laughed.

A few hours later they were home and they stacked the chairs in the former stable until Tristan could rent a locker.

The boys took the opportunity to walk over the house, the last tradesperson just packing up as they did so. The first thing that they saw was the new roof on the loft. There had been a hold up in the manufacture of the windows and glass doors and so these openings were roughly boarded over. Ben had said that this delay would put the project back two weeks. Instead, the building team had started on the main house. The old screened porch had been totally demolished and the walls surrounding the downstairs bathroom had been stripped down to just the framing and the room gutted of its unappetizing fitments.

They ventured down into the basement. "I haven't got anybody for this room, De. Know anyone who'd want to live here?"

"Maybe. Jimmy, perhaps?"

Jimmy Shu was the badminton player from Hong Kong and one of the crew from Charles C. Selecman. Tristan liked him and nodded. Then he went on: "To make this space into a nice room, I think double doors would add a touch of class--you know, compensate for being next to the laundry room and being dark."

"Would it cost much to put in another John n' a shower?"

"I was just thinking that. Might as well be hung for a sheep as a lamb."

"What's that mean, dude?"

Tristan laughed. "It means I've spent so much money, a bit more won't make the crises worse."

"Shit, Tris! Is you broke?"

"No De, I've got enough--more than enough since my Gran died."

Lastly they went up into the loft over the old stable. There was not much to see. A fenced-off gap yawned to one side where the new entrance and stairs from the back yard were to go. Now no spots of light penetrated the well-sealed roof. Outlets for plumbing and electricity poked out in odd places. "They're for the aircon and the ceiling fans," said Tris, pointing.

"Tris," began Deshawn, putting his arm around his shoulder in a friendly fashion. "What say you don't have them usual white fans hanging from the rafters?"

"But they are need to move the hot and cool air around this big space."

"Ever heard of punkahs?"

"Not steam punks?"

"No, `punkahs'--like fans, but a waving sheet hangin' from the ceiling."

"Yes, I know, like they had in the Far East and India in the time of the Raj."

"Yeah, but now they have electric motors, not some untouchable dude with a rope."

"They're made again?"

"Yeah, in Germany, but I could make you one --or two for this space right here."

"Shit, De, that's very steam punk! Where did you read about them?"

"Didn't read, there was a big ol'plantation house in Tupulo that has one in the dinin' room. Some poor nigga had to work it while de white folks ate their dinner."

"You're from Tupelo?"

"Yeah, me..."

"And Elvis," they said together.

They spent some minutes staring up at the rafters, Deshawn's fertile brain doing rough calculations while a confident Tristan was making a note on his phone for Ben and Ivy to cancel the fans. Punkahs would be a delightful feature, he thought to himself, and at last one where he could feel tangible delight as a result of spending his--or rather his father's-- money. Tristan grinned at Deshawn and De grinned back.

Please look for the next chapter. Henry would love to receive feedback and will endeavour to reply. Please email h.h.hilliard@hotmail.com and put Tristan in the subject line.