VIDEO above - GOODBYE YELLOW BRICK ROAD - Elton John/Obsession dance mix
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More adventure for Jason on the road back home ...

I jogged down the long access road to route 23. Here it was a four lane divided highway with a wide grass strip median, same as it was most of the way down to Kenton. There was little traffic at this time of night, just a few cars heading north into town. None were coming south going my way.

I started trudging along the paved shoulder feeling pretty good now that I was over my little episode of drama with the city skyline. It really was great to be alive and strong and moving, and I knew I could walk all the way back to Kenton if I had to.

There was a bright half moon and a billion twinkling stars up above as I walked past a big 24-hour gas station. It was wide open spaces here, the kind of big flat lands not seen much around Kenton, dotted here and there with motels and car dealers, big office complexes and party centers. I sucked in deep gulps of air and jabbed an emphatic fist out ahead, so happy I could breathe normally again.

The cars going north had whizzed by me. I turned to see if any were coming south yet and there were a flurry of headlights heading my way. Four vehicles. All right! One of them had to pick me up. Like, who wouldn't want to give me a ride?

Well, fuck me. Zip, zip, zip, zip ... they all flew by, not one of them even slowing down.

Jeez. Maybe I should flex a bicep or two?

"Come on, peeps. I gotta get home. What the hell?"

There obviously hadn't been girls in those cars, that's for sure. Or even gay dudes. They'd pick me up. Must've been old people, I was thinking, laughing out loud, or goths or punks or nerds – all afraid of the dangerous-looking jock on the side of the road.

I know, like really.

I couldn't stop laughing. I was so damn relieved to feel good again that I was in a totally silly mood. Either that or I'd gotten high in the Sonata from the girls' perfume, hairspray, and make-up. That could do it. I used to ask Jeannie to lay off all that stuff or else I'd be sneezing all night when I was with her and my eyes would water.

I arrived at a crossroads and jogged across to the next corner chuckling my girly giggle. Ha! Dudes smelled so much better, I was thinking, especially when they were all hot, horny, and sweaty.

There was a pull-off area here, surrounded by clumps of trees, and off it was a narrow road that led into a huge open-pit mining area that went on for acres and acres, looking like a lonely moonscape. I turned back around to check for cars again. One was heading toward me so I stuck my thumb out and started walking backward.

Then a sudden voice scared the crap out of me.

"Hey you! Whaddaya think you're doin'?"

"Aagghh!" I yelled, looking all around me.

I hadn't seen the motorcycle cop sitting on his bike up near the trees, watching.

"Goddamn. You scared the fuck out of me," I yelled at him.

"Where the hell you going? Don't you know hitchhiking is illegal on these roads?"

The car whizzed by me without even slowing down, and I defiantly kept on walking backward. "Aw come on. I gotta get back down home to Kenton."

"Whoa! Hey, stop right there," the cop demanded, getting off the bike, and he started walking over to me.

As he came closer out of the shadows, I could see him better. Like wow. He was tall and big and beautifully built, ridiculously macho with a lumbering walk, a square jaw, a handsome face, and a neatly trimmed mustache. A total daddy to die for in a Columbus police uniform and cap. A holstered gun swagged on his hip and he wore a belt with about a dozen different crime fighting accessories attached to it.

That sure got me to stop. I stood there mesmerized, totally undressing him in my mind. He walked up to me and stopped only a few inches away and I had to look up at him. He was a good six inches taller than me.

"You been drinking?" he asked in a deep masculine voice. "What was all that girly giggling about?"

Oh man, he'd heard me, and it was obvious what he thought about it. I was going to have to tell Johnny. He'd crack up. This cop was just as bad as him about my giggling. And he was hot as fuck too. I wanted to jump right on him, push him into the cover of the trees and rip his uniform off. It was like walking right into the hottest porn video you could imagine. A hot daddy motorcycle cop all alone in the night. And me.

"I don't drink," I told him. "I'm not drunk. I was just thinking about something funny, that's all."

His hair was dark and curly and sticking out from under the cap. And his eyes were blue. Except for Detective Romano, I'd never seen such a good looking cop.

"And I'm not driving," I added.

He placed his big hands on his hips. "You're hitchhiking. Right on the paved road bed. I can give you a ticket for that."

He was probably straight, I was figuring, but screw that. I wanted those big hands all over me one way or another, and didn't care how I managed it. So I said, "No shit. I didn't know it was illegal. And is it a worse offense for drunk hitchhiking?"

I was hoping it might piss him off but, surprisingly, he smiled at me. My heart started banging, but in a good way. Then he grabbed my arm real hard and began pulling me over to his motorcycle. I wouldn't have been able to hide the big smile on my face and I didn't care if he noticed. He could've hauled me along like that all the way to the moon.

"Lean on it," he gruffed, maybe just a little too theatrically, as he pushed me toward the bike. "And don't knock it over."

I leaned over and spread my hands on the leather seat. I could almost hear my mom say, "Jason, don't do anything crazy." But I couldn't help myself. I'd been going nuts out of my mind wanting to be with somebody like him. And if all I could do was flirt with the dude and have him touch me, I sure as fuck was going to.

He started to frisk me. On my shoulders. Ha, I had a tank top on. What'd he need with my shoulders? Can't hide anything there. But it really wasn't a frisk, it turned out to be more like a massage, a really sensuous one, or at least I thought so. He could've hit me with a brick and I would've loved it. His hands smoothed over to my upper arms, my biceps and triceps, and he seemed to feel them up all over like he thought maybe I was hiding cocaine or opioids in them.

"How old are you?" he asked, checking my forearms for more hidden contraband with his electrifying fingers.

"Eighteen," I said.

"Still in high school?"

"Yep." I figured he'd read the front of the shirt.

"Jason Quarterback?" Obviously reading the back of the shirt.

He'd actually grabbed my hands and was working them over, rubbing the centers of my palms with his thumbs. His hands were way bigger than mine.

"Yah, that's me. I'm quarterback on the school football team."

I was tingling all over and felt warm, totally warm everywhere. Hot. Like I was going to melt from his touch.

"'High school football is more than a sport. It's a religion,'" he quoted.

I nodded solemnly. Oh how I knew that. But I didn't have the heart to tell him that today I'd fucking lost my religion.

"Did you play?" I asked him.

He sighed as he let my hands go and his hands moved down to my hips. "I sure did. A long time ago in a galaxy far far away."

I felt my tank top being gently lifted. Then his fingers were on me underneath it, checking for what might be hidden there. I almost laughed when he had to inspect each pec. My knees were getting weak.

"You really know how to frisk a guy," I just about gasped.

He snorted. "Years of practice. And you really seem to be enjoying it."

"Oh yeah. A whole fuckin' lot."

Then his hands slid around to my back and his fingers trailed down to my waist and onto my butt. He felt up my cheeks like he was positive there was some kind of grand prize in there. I was so damn turned on. You'd think I hadn't done anything sexual in a decade.

"You won't find anything hidden in there," I told him. "That's all me."

"That's obvious," came his throaty response. "Don't you have a wallet? Some I.D.?"

"Left front pocket."

His hands moved around front, one going right for my junk, my big throbbing dick squished up in the tight pants. He let out a little grunt as his palm felt over it. His other hand went to the left pocket and he pulled the wallet out, along with the pill box. Then he pulled his hands away.

"Hey, don't stop," I complained. "I was enjoying that."

"I'm working, bud. Got a job to do."

I turned to look and he'd pulled a small flashlight off his belt and was looking at my driver's licenses.

"I should've known," he grunted. "You have two Ohio licenses. One says you're eighteen, the other twenty. So I guess you're really eighteen, huh?"

I turned completely around to face him. "Yah, you got it." I had no shame about the illegal identification or anything else. All I wanted was his hands all up on me again and I was thrilled to see a nice big bulge in own his crotch too.

He looked at me mockingly. "You're just a kid, Jason. This time of night, you should be home with your mommy."

I groaned. I didn't like the way this was going now. "That's exactly what I'm doing. Trying to get home to Kenton to my mom."

"You're one of those Jacey boys, aren't you?" he asked.

That sure got a reaction from me. "Yah. Jeez, how do you know about that?"

"The guys on the force have been talking about it all night, the way you boys caused that flash mob at Xanadude. They don't like shit like that. We cops have more than enough to do already, especially down in the University District and the Short North."

I nodded. "I know. They made sure to tell us the same thing."

"So where's your boyfriend?"

I let out a sigh. I liked it better when he was frisking me up. "He's at the Sheraton downtown. Something came up and I have to get back home."

He upcocked an eyebrow, "In the middle of the night? What could be so damn important?"

"Aw ... I don't want to ..."

"Tell me," he insisted. He handed me the wallet back and was looking at the pill box suspiciously.

"Fuck. I ran into my dad at the hotel. We didn't know each other were gonna be in town. He was with one of those Rainbow Girls hookers. We got in a bad argument because of it and ... and my mom's down home all alone, most probably knowing what he's doing up here. And worrying herself sick about it."

He opened the pill box. "Sorry to hear that, kid. There's an awful lot of that going on downtown. Men from all over the state come to mess around with those girls. What the hell are these for?" he asked, looking at the pills.

"They're Valium. I have an anxiety disorder and I get panic attacks."

"Are they your pills? Your prescription?"

"My mom's." I wasn't going to lie to him now. "She's had the problem for years. I just got it recently."

He closed the little box and handed it back to me. "Sounds like you have a lot to handle for a boy still in high school."

Oh, how little he knew. "Yah, sort of."

He looked at me sternly, his hands back on his hips. But I knew he was just putting on an act. He'd just frisked me up all over and almost grabbed my dick. He wasn't fooling me.

"I'll tell you what, Jason. You have counterfeit state identification, you were underage at a bar, you're hitchhiking, and you're carrying a controlled substance that you admit was not prescribed to you. That could all get you into a heap of trouble. But I guess I can overlook all that. However, I can't let you keep hitchhiking."

"Aw man, I told you I have to get home to my mom. Come on," I begged him, wondering what he expected me to do.

He shook his head. "Seriously, dude. I have to do my job. I can't let you stay here on the road. I can take you to the nearest precinct station and you can call your boyfriend to come and get you. Or ..."

He stopped and looked at me with a little smile quirking his lips.

"Or what?" I asked.

He sucked in a gulp of air and looked me in the eye. "Or I can take you to my place and you can sleep while I finish my shift. When I get back in the morning, I can drive you home."

My hands balled into fists. "I'm serious. I have to get home."

"I get it, but I can't let you hitch a ride. Do you have any idea how many missing college boys there are in this state who were last seen hitching a ride home? There's people cruising these roads at night looking for dudes just like you. They pick 'em up and the boys are never seen again."

God damn! It was obvious he wasn't going to let me continue. "You just want to get me to your place, huh?" I growled at him.

He smiled. "Yah, so you're safe. I gotta get back to work."

"But my mom!"

"She'll be there waiting, fine and dandy, like moms always are. This has probably been going on a long time and she knows about it. We cops have to deal with hookers and johns all the time and we know how the story goes. I can get you home before noon."

"And you'll just drop me off at your place and go back to work?" I asked.

"Yes. I have a beat to patrol."

"I guess so. But I'd like it better if you'd just let me go home."

Apparently I pissed him off. He grabbed my shoulders and shook me. "You fuckin' kids! You grow up in such a bubble you have no idea what the real world's like. I know what's out here just waiting to find somebody like you. You don't. You probably wouldn't recognize danger if it spit in your face."

"All right. Okay!" Damn, even his shaking me was a turn-on. "I get it. I'll come with you."

"Good." His rough grasp softened. "It's about a ten minute ride back home. I'll have to work till eight or nine and then I can drive you ..."

A few cars going both north and south had passed by during this exchange. Now, one heading south suddenly screeched on the road by us as its brakes got heavily slammed on. Then it swerved onto the shoulder and the turn-around, spitting up gravel as it came to a stop almost directly facing us. We both looked at it, startled. The cop, one hand still on me, reached for his gun with the other.

He didn't pull it out of the holster, though, just gripped his hand around the butt, muttering, "Who the fuck is this?"

I made a noise indicating I didn't know. It was some kind of vintage GM muscle car, like a Camaro or a Firebird, or maybe a GTO, low-slung and futuristic looking. The rumbling engine died as the driver switched it off. Then the driver door popped open and a man stepped out and turned to face us.

I wasn't sure, but it looked like Strike.

The cop's grip on my shoulder tightened and he slowly began pulling the gun out of the holster.

He called out, "Hold it there, sir. I'm a police officer and I have a gun. Place your hands on the roof of that car."

The man did as he was told, laying his palms down on the roof which was just a little lower than his chest. "What are you doing to that boy?" he demanded.

It sure the hell sounded like Strike. I couldn't see his face clearly because he was standing behind the glare of the car's headlight beams.

"I was just bringing him into the station," the cop snapped back. "Get back in your car and drive on. I don't want any interference."

"Wait a minute. I think I know him. Is that you, Jason?"

A sense of relief flooded over me. It was Strike, on his way back to Kenton. I'd be able to go home after all.

"Yah it's me, Strike."

"You okay? Where the hell's Johnny? Whaddaya doin' here?"

"I'm all right. Johnny's still downtown at the hotel. I ..."

"Whoa! Wait a minute," the cop yelled. He'd drawn his gun and had it pointed at Strike. "Stay right where you are, sir," he gruffed as he pulled me out of the shadows away from his bike toward the car.

Closer, I could see Strike clearly. His eyes widened as he looked us both up and down, but he didn't say anything. Apparently he knew better than to rile up a cop who was wielding a gun.

"Do you know this man?" the policeman asked me.

"Yes, he lives in Kenton and he's a friend of the family."

He gestured toward Strike with his gun. "Let me see some I.D., sir. Leave one hand on the roof!"

I wanted to tell him Strike was okay, not to worry, but what the hell did he know? Strike could've been some crazed maniac with an automatic in his pocket, and me his accomplice in cop-baiting.

Strike pulled out his wallet and laid it on the roof of the car.

"Stay right here," the cop told me. Then he walked up to the car and pulled his little flashlight off his belt.

Keeping his eye on Strike and the gun pointed at him, he managed to fish out Strike's driver's license and look at it. Then he put it back into the wallet and shoved it over to Strike. I couldn't help notice how they locked eyes, like they already knew each other, like they were sizing each other up, but not for the first time.

"Are you driving back to Kenton now?" the cop asked Strike.

"Yes, I'm on my way home."

"What were you doing in Columbus?"

"I met a friend."

"Where? Where were you?"

Strike didn't look too happy when he replied, "The Frontier Baths."

The cop didn't bat an eye at that. "How well do you know this boy?"

"Very well. I've known him all his life. I own a garage in town and do a lot of work for his dad who runs an insurance agency."

The officer looked at me, then back to Strike. "Was this boy at the bath house too?"

Strike gave me a hard look, then nodded. "Yes, he was."

Oh cripes, now I was really going to hear it. You had to be nineteen to get in the baths. Johnny and I had used the fake I.D.'s.

The cop let out an aggravated growl. To Strike he said, "He sure looks like a nice kid, but he could've gotten into a lot of trouble tonight. Underage at Xanadude, underage whatever-the-fuck-he-did at the bath house, using a counterfeit state I.D., carrying around prescription drugs that aren't his, and hitchhiking on the paved roadbed."

He gave me a challenging glance. "What have you got to say for yourself, Jason?"

"Umm ..." What the hell do you say to a question like that? "I won't do any of it again?"

He laughed at me. "You'd better not, kiddo. Because I probably won't be the cop who catches you next time. Do you want to go back to Kenton with your friend Strike?"

"Yes." I had to get back to my mom. "But thanks for offering to help me."

He snorted at that. "All in the line of duty, son." Then to Strike, "Take a walk with me a little ways down the road."

He pointed south and said to me, "Stay here. We'll be right back."

I watched them walk together about twenty feet away. They were pretty well matched, Strike being a little taller, and looked hot as fuck from behind. I was regretting not being able to get something going on with the cop but then it occurred to me that maybe on the way home with Strike ...?

I know. My mind was one-tracking it to death.

They talked for a few minutes. I could hear their voices but I couldn't understand what they were saying. At length, they shook hands and then came back to the car.

Strike motioned for me to get in. "Come on, you're coming with me."

"Cool." I pulled open the passenger door and said to the cop, "Thanks again, man. I appreciate it. Uhh ... maybe some other time?"

He gave me a dubious glance and laughed. "Sure. Come back when you grow up."

Strike and I both got in and he started up the car. The next moment he took off like a bat out of hell. The force of the speed flattened me back against the seat as I fastened my safety belt.

"Jeez! Where the hell'd you get this car? I never saw it before. What is it?"

"It's a '72 Firebird Trans AM. Pontiac. Belongs to a customer from Athens. I've been working on it all week. He wants it in top condition so he can drive it everywhere he goes and not worry about it breaking down. It's gonna cost him a bundle." He was obviously really pissed at me. "Why the mother fuck are you hitchhiking home?"

If there were any more cops around, he'd sure get a speeding ticket at the rate he was going. "I just have to get home. It's a long story."

"Tell me. We have plenty of time."

I figured I'd better. He was mad at me for being young and foolish and going to the bar and bath house. Yah, we should know better. But what the fuck? We wanted to have some fun and see what gay life in the city was all about.

So I told him the whole story as we flew down the highway. Meeting Cabel at Jocko's. Meeting Rachel in the hotel lobby. Going out with the boys to Xanadude and meeting Channing. Then over to the bath house, back to the hotel, and running into my dad and Rachel in the elevator. And my panicked response to that and my anxious need to get home to my mom.

I watched his hands gripping the steering wheel. Looked like he was going to break it. "Damn it! Hookers, girlfriends, an illegitimate son? Talk about a secret life. Your dad is a real mother fucker."

"Yes. I believe I called him exactly that on the elevator."

"I'm sorry, Jason. That's pretty awful. Do you feel okay now?"

"Yah, I'm all right. The medicine works real good for me. I'm gonna have to go to the doctor and get my own prescription."

He kept his eyes on the road ahead. "What else is going on? Tell me. Why'd you fix Johnny up with Channing?"

"Hey, that's really amazing you know his coach," I said evasively. "Channing sure was surprised to run into him there."

"Yah, Doug too. He was real fucking surprised. And don't change the subject, Jason." Strike pressed harder on the accelerator. "Tell me what's wrong."

"Right now ... the way you're speedin ..." He was going over eighty in a sixty miles-per-hour zone. "Man, slow it down a little bit, huh? It's just this ... this coming out hasn't been easy for me. What's up with my Mustang? Are you working on it yet?"

"Sammy and I will start on it next week. And stop evading my questions." He slowed the car down considerably. We were sitting close together in old-fashioned bucket seats in the narrow car, no console between us. He reached over and put a hand on my knee.

"Look, I know coming out can be difficult. But you're a tough kid. You should be able to handle it, even the crazy-ass way you're doing it. Maybe panic attacks are, but hooking your lover up with another guy is by no stretch of the imagination a normal reaction to the stress of coming out."

I had no response to that. I couldn't tell him. I couldn't tell anyone. All I could do was listen to the roar of the engine.

Strike squeezed my knee, then let it go. "Okay. When you decide you need to talk about it, call me. You're gonna have to spill it out sooner or later, as crazy as it's making you."

He sighed impatiently and added, "Meanwhile, since you don't have a father who's gonna tell you to behave, I will. You and Johnny are taking ridiculous chances going to a gay bar and a bath house at your age. I know a lot of guys do this shit, but you two aren't 'everybody'. Don't mess up your lives by getting into needless trouble.

"People are watching every move you two make," he went on, "and from what I've observed, and heard, you and some of your teammates have a hella thing going on. Ernie being one of them, obviously. That's surely enough, Jason. You don't need the adult gay world in your life. You're still in fucking high school."

He was right. Of course I knew that. But that didn't really concern me at the moment. What did, was that even he knew people were watching. Guess I wasn't so nuts to be so paranoid. Who the hell had he been talking to?

"Okay, Strike. No bars, no baths. Just Johnny and our jock buds. Fuck, we just wanted to see what it's all about."

"You'll have plenty of time for that when you're older. Right now you've got your last year of high school to focus on, and another football season."

I didn't dare tell him I wasn't going to play football this year. I knew he'd have a tirade of a lecture about that. I'd have to make an announcement about it next week. It was really going to cause a sensation, especially since it meant the team would have no quarterback. The other one was missing and wanted by the police!

I'd gotten totally turned on when Strike had his hand on my knee. Just his gentle touch had caused me to get aroused and I had a throbbing boner again. I couldn't help looking at him all over, he was so awesome.

"What did you and that cop talk about?" I asked him.

"He just wanted to make sure I'd take you right home to your mom." Strike looked at me and grinned. "His name is Conner. I met him a couple years ago at the auto show up in Columbus. We were both drooling over some hot concept car and hit it off real good. We ended up going for a drink and planning to get together. But for some reason or other it never happened."

"I got the feeling that you two knew each other. He was going to take me to his place, then go back out to finish his shift. Then take me home in the morning."

"Yah, hopefully right after he got home."

"Well, maybe we could've hung out for a while," I said, wanting to egg him on like I did in the bath house. He was so fucking hot and I just had to sit there and look, not touch. Which totally sucked.

"I'm sure he'd know better not to. And he wasn't being totally honest with you, Jason. Hitchhiking isn't really illegal, just on the big closed access highways in some parts of the state, like Interstate 71. On a road like this one, you need to be off the paved roadbed where it's safe so you don't get fucking hit."

"He sure didn't explain it like that. Said he couldn't allow me to continue hitching a ride."

"Sure, because it's for your own good. You know how many boys from the southern counties hitch up to Columbus every weekend to go to the bars and baths? Lots of them. And Conner knows some of them will be hitching back down home this time of night. The cops warn them not to hitch a ride and take them to the station. I've given plenty of dudes rides back down south on my way home from town. That's how I happened to notice you there with him. And you sure looked familiar."

"So it's all a con so I don't end up raped and dead in the woods someplace? Crazy, huh? But he seems like a really nice guy. He'd sure be worth getting to know."

Strike shrugged and gave me his grin again. "I'll have a chance to find out next week."

"What? Whaddaya mean next week?"

He was staring back at the road ahead. "I have a date with him next Saturday."

"You ... what? Where?"

"I'm meeting him at the bath house Saturday night. Midnight. I gotta pay for the room. Then spend the rest of the night with him. That's what it cost to get you to come back to Kenton with me."

I was so surprised ... and totally outraged. "You mean you made a deal with him?"

"Yup. Things don't work out by magic in the real world, Jason."

"Fuck! You get each other ... and I get ... a ride?"

"That's the way the ball bounces, buddy. And I'm the one who's gotta pay the price, not you."

"What? Like I'm supposed to feel sorry for you? You get to spend a night at the bath house with him. He's hot as fuck that dude."

Strike chuckled. "That he is. Hopefully I won't end up dead in the woods somewhere."

"That's not gonna happen. You're gonna have a hell of a hot time and you'll owe it all to me. Damn it, when are you and me gonna have a hot time together?"

He tensed and his chin lifted sharply. "We're not, Jason. Get the idea outta your head. Stop thinking about it."

Yah right. How was I going to do that sitting so close to him? From his thick dark hair down to his boot-clad feet, he was the hottest hunk I'd ever seen. Wearing tight jeans and a black t-shirt that showed every line and contour of his muscular torso, he was like a living work of art begging to be touched all over.

I knew I shouldn't do it, but I did it anyway. I placed my hand on his knee like he'd done on mine a few minutes ago. He immediately pressed harder on the accelerator and the muscle car roared like an angry dragon as it sped down the highway.

"Get your hand outta there, Jason. Or I'll show you how this car flies up into the air."

I raised my hand. I didn't doubt he'd be able to do it somehow. "Dammit! You're the hottest dude who ever lived and you know it. And I want to be with you. It won't kill you. I'm fucking awesome too."

Defying him, I placed my hand on his abdomen and started feeling upward on the soft black cotton. The slabs of abs beneath were awesome to the touch and I was headed for the mounds of his pecs above them when he grabbed my hand and tossed it roughly back to me.

"Jason, stop it!"

I honestly could not believe he really meant it. How could he not have a little tumble with me? How could he be so righteous, or whatever the fuck it was, to reject me when I was begging him for it?

I really thought that if I pushed him enough, he'd give in. The bulge in his crotch looked suspiciously large and I went right for it, palming it with my hand . I was right. He was hard as a rock and I could feel the exciting contours through the denim.

"You're all turned on," I accused him. "Just like me."

Strike slammed on the brakes and the car swerved over onto the shoulder where it fishtailed for about twenty feet on the gravel before he finally got it under control and was able to stop. He shifted it into park then turned to me, hesitating awkwardly. There was a weighted silence for a couple seconds and I was just going to reach for him when he broke the pause.

I never saw it coming, his lightning fist, but I felt the cracking blow slam into my jaw. My head snapped back and banged against the head rest. I was momentarily stunned, my head spinning and my ears popping, and I felt a sticky flow of blood in my mouth.

"Jeezus," I gasped, feeling around in my mouth with my tongue. "Fuck. You coulda broke my teeth!"

Strike was rubbing his fist, grimacing. He'd hit me hard enough to hurt himself. "Sometimes that's the only kind of talk boys like you understand. Dudes your age just don't get it today that no means fucking No."

Oh damn, fuck and mother fuck ... it hurt. "I get it now," I growled at him. "Yah, thanks a lot. I get it."

I looked away from him. I didn't want him to see there were tears in my eyes. Tears because my jaw hurt like hell, and because he'd actually punched me. I looked out the window as he shifted back into gear and took off again.

We didn't say anything to each other for quite a while after that. I just sat there staring out the window as the highway skirted Circleville, then headed south again leaving the town behind.

I kept sulking, pulled out my phone to have something to distract me. I'd had it silenced and there were a zillion messages. It'd take me all day later on to go through them. There were texts from Johnny and Cabel and Ernie, hoping I was doing okay, that they loved me and missed me. Made me feel a whole lot better. Strike was right. I didn't need him. I had plenty of dudes who wanted to be all over me.

I texted them back, telling them I'd hitched a ride with a trio of crazy straight girls who'd gotten all up on me, and I was now with Strike who'd picked me up on route 23 on his way home.

At length, somewhere along the dark winding road, Strike said, "I'm sorry, Jason. I didn't want to have to do that. I love you, boy, like a friend, like a kid brother. I'll do anything I can for you, but I'm not gonna have sex with you. There's plenty of guys my age who'll jump right on you, given the chance. But not me. That's just me ... being me, the way I am."

"It's all right," I said, finally looking back at him. "It's my fault. I should've listened. I'm just all fucked up lately. I don't know what the hell I'm doing."

"I know." He looked me in the eye real hard. "Remember what I said. When you're ready to talk about it, call me."

***

Later, when the Trans AM pulled into my mom and dad's driveway, Strike and I were on much better terms. It was still dark, but the moon was gone and the stars were beginning to fade with the dawn soon on its way.

"Are you gonna tell your mom about Cabel?" Strike asked me.

"I want to. I want her to know I have a brother. Do you think she already knows about him?"

He heaved his shoulders in a shrug. "I think she does. She's a mom and a wife. Moms and wives usually know about everything. If she does, Jason, don't hold it against her. It's probably a secret that's absolutely killed her to keep from you all these years."

I nodded in understanding. "Right. I'm sure it has. Thanks a lot for the ride, buddy."

We bumped fists and I got out, breathing in the cool morning air. It felt so good to be home. I watched Strike back the car out into the street and head on up to the Athens Road. Then I turned and walked to the side door, suddenly wishing I was a kid again and coming home after finishing the paper route I'd had back then for the Columbus Dispatch.

I unlocked the door and Colt was right there, sniffing and wagging his tail and wanting to jump all over me.

"Hold it, dude," I hissed, forcing him down.

I let him run out and he raced onto the back lawn to sniff and pee. I stood there holding the door and looked into the kitchen. The light was on and I knew my mom must have been up late. Her pill bottle was on the counter underneath the shelf where she kept it. So I knew she'd been needing her little helpers.

She often slept on her chair in the den when she had a bad night with her nerves, and I could see a pool of dim light glowing on the hall floor outside the den.

Yah, she probably was in there sleeping peacefully now after a fretful night.

Colt came back up to the door and we went inside. He was way overexcited about seeing me and I got down on the floor next to him and loved him up a little, smooching him between the eyes.

"Okay, calm down, doggie. Don't wake mommy up."

The air-conditioning was on and it was cool in the house. I turned the kitchen light off and tip-toed down the hall to the den, Colt following.

My mom was asleep on her chair as I'd suspected. The lamp on the table next to it was still on. She'd pulled an afghan over her and a book was laying open on her lap.

I left the lamp burning. I grabbed a throw from the big basket in the corner and sat down on the couch, fluffing it out over me. Colt jumped up to lie beside me, his head on my lap.

I let out the deepest sigh I ever remembered sighing. All I could think of was that Dorothy was damn right when she wanted to get back to Kansas.

There's just no fucking place like home.

I felt like I'd been to Oz and back in my own private little tornado.

All I needed was Johnny on my right, squishing up next to me and Colt, my arm around him.

And Cabel on my left, his head on my shoulder, his leg pressed against mine.

And my dad on his chair on the other side of the table from my mom, a contented smile on his face.

Then everything would be ... okay.

**

Thanks everybody for reading, commenting, and voting!

Please tell all your Watty friends about this book. Put it on your profile page in one of your reading lists so it can be seen by others. A lot of it is based on my personal experiences and I've really enjoyed writing it. Final chapters ahead!