“So, let me get this straight, pardon the pun, but you went to second period Drama and the hottie twins were there. You said they watched you in class and after the pop quiz, you submitted yours and read their quiz for like a couple of minutes and then suddenly it was lunch?” Don asked Elliot as they all assembled at the top of the multi-tiered garden in the middle of the large quad that separated the various campus buildings.
Mercy High had once been a Catholic school, but two years ago the church deconsecrated the grounds and the facility converted to a secular high school serving Mercy and the surrounding unincorporated towns and villages along the Big Sur coastline. While parochial attendance had trended down over the years, the secular incarnation now held over seven hundred students.
Elliot took a bite of his egg-salad sandwich as he contemplated the best way to answer Don’s question. Don Garcia was his crew’s resident smart guy and avid surfer. There wasn’t much Don didn’t know or could gain a handle on. And the guy was quick – quicksilver, sort of quick – but in that Zen surfer boy way. He often presented the answers when the group needed them most, but with all the grace of a wise sage. With his shoulder length black hair, beguiling Latino looks, he wasn’t hard on the eyes or the spirit – he was always good for hang out with for a bit of a laugh, too. Elliot knew if there was anyone who might sort out what happened to him, it was Don.
“Well, see, that’s the thing,” Elliot began, realizing as he looked around that the entire crew appeared riveted to his reply. Some even stopped chewing their lunches altogether. “It all seemed to go like a few minutes at most. So how could two whole periods pass me by?”
“And why didn’t we see you when we left?” Terri added while deciding against finishing the cafeteria Spaghetti Surprise lunch he’d mistakenly purchased.
“Yeah, girl. We saw you get up and put your quiz in the tray and then left out the door before the bell even rang,” Randy added.
“Wait. What?” Elliot nearly choked on his bit of sandwich. “Okay,” he cleared his throat, “that never happened.”
“Girl, we saw you leave. We … as in Terri and me. Four pairs of eyes, unless you count Terri’s contacts then maybe it’s six.”
“Bitch! You said you wouldn’t spill my tea …” Terri gasped and slapped Randy’s arm for good measure.
“Ladies! We’re so beyond Terri’s less than stellar vision right now,” Elliot burst out. He wanted to know what Don was thinking and not this trip down Spilling Tea Road.
“So let me see if I have all of this right,” Don began as he wiped the last of his banana cream pie from his lips. “You two saw him clearly place his quiz in Mr. Ray’s inbox and leave the room but Elliot maintains he not only put his quiz in the box, he picked up the twin’s responses, read them without leaving the room, then heard the twins’ voices in his ear and when he reacted to them two hours had passed?”
“Yup, pretty much,” Els replied as he slipped the last of his sandwich into his mouth.
“Time and Spatial displacement. Wow … I’d read something about it in one of my science mags, but it was all theoretical. I mean, some of it has panned out from recent theory but like, whoa, that’s some serious shit.”
“Mmm-kay, before you go all science nerd on us and start techno-babbling shit we don’t have any way of understanding, are you saying that both can be true?” Elliot leaned in.
“It is possible; again, theoretically speaking. Perceptions are a tricky thing.”
“But that would imply that someone or something was the puppet master here, right?” Elliot pressed further.
“Okay, is it me? Or did we just enter Twilight Zone, now? What are you two going on about?” Cindy asked as she joined them from her trip to the cafeteria. She eyed Elliot and Don as she sipped from her Coke.
“Girl, you had to be there. Miss Thang thinks she stayed in the classroom reading quizzes when we clearly saw her leave,” Terri offered.
Elliot ignored Terri’s commentary because he could see Don was already onto something.
“What are you thinking?” he goaded Don a bit more.
“Well, the one odd thing throughout this whole scenario has been the twins. Anything else you can come up about them?”
“Wow, way to put the new guys into hot water,” Danny added.
“Well, think about it. Elliot told us that they kept staring at him. You two caught them doing it, right?” Don continued.
Randy and Terri both nodded but didn’t add anything further. The serious looks on everyone’s faces said that they’d definitely crossed over into the land of maybes. This was Don’s playground. He loved the possibilities in life and what’s more there was no one who could run down the number of possibilities as fast as he could.
“Okay, then we add to the fact that Elliot noticed how fast they finished the quiz and the sheer volume of what they wrote …”
“And how they wrote it … it was like Declaration of Independence quality script. Ya know, how people who wrote with feathers wrote.”
“Right. Okay. And where were they when you went down to spy on their quizzes?”
“They were busy chatting up Mr. Ray in his office,” Elliot replied.
“So, they hadn’t left yet.”
“No. And I was clear to watch that they didn’t see me reading their replies. They were definitely preoccupied with Mr. Ray. But it was their voices that sort of brought me out of reading those quizzes and when the lunch bell rang I realized I’d missed two whole periods. I mean, Mr. Ray had another drama class in period three. Then none for the fourth – it’s a free period for him. So when I snapped out of it I found myself all alone in the room. Why didn’t anyone see me standing there during the third period?”
“And the twins were nowhere to be found, right?”
“So, they could’ve pulled it off somehow. Hypnosis, maybe?” Don frowned at that simplistic, if slightly unusual idea.
“Okay, say they used hypnosis or something like it, but how?” Danny asked.
Don gripped some grass and tossed the blades into the bushes. Frustration was never a good thing for him.
“That’s the part we don’t have an answer for. And even the things that could be, are simply not plausible.”
“So, we keep an eye on them?” Elliot asked.
“We keep an eye on them,” Don nodded.
A shadow fell across the group.
“So, we heard this where all the cool kids hang out for lunch,” Pietro stated, making everyone jump.
“Mind if we join you?” Marco asked.
To say that lunch from that point out was a bit on the awkward side would’ve been the understatement of the century, at least, to Elliot’s way of thinking.
Everyone seemed welcoming of the twins. Most looked intrigued to have the boys so close to them for the first time. They just felt a bit odd with what they’d been discussing prior to the twins’ arrival. Elliot, however, became slightly tickled eyeing the grit to Danny’s jaw as he watched the brothers observe every move or sound Elliot made – almost as if they couldn’t get enough of whatever Elliot did. If anything, the brothers’ arrival was the perfect solution that just might get Danny to come to a decision if they were together or not.
Chalk one up for the twins, Elliot thought.
“So how are you liking your first day?” Don asked the brothers as he stretched back onto his bent elbows, his gaze intent on their answer. For all his amassed intelligence for a guy so young, Don’s questions were never as topical as they sounded. Don’s ability to suss out a person’s character from brief interactions was nearly legendary with Elliot’s gang. If you wanted a read on someone, you had them talk to Don for a few minutes.
“It’s interesting … for a small town like Mercy there are a lot of students here,” Marco commented, glancing around the quad at the number of students who called it their favorite lunch spot – choosing to sit out in the sunshine rather than the confines of the cafeteria.
“Mercy gets students from the surrounding areas – unincorporated towns and small villages and the random ranch or house along the coastline, which is sort of funny considering that it was once a parochial school but they couldn’t keep the attendance high enough to warrant this large a school.”
“You mean this was consecrated ground?” Pietro inquired, sipping from a thermos, tingeing his lips a darkened red color.
“What are you drinking?” Terri asked. “It’s making your lips go all red like. Almost matches my lipstick.”
“Borscht. We have a particular fondness for it from our time spent in Hungary. It’s a bit odd, an acquired taste, but I really like it.”
Elliot didn’t think that Borscht would be that particular red color but what did he know really about it?
The rest of the lunch period passed with pleasant, if a bit guarded, idle conversation. Elliot became quite surprised that in this setting the brothers seemed more inclined to share their personal stories about where they’ve lived and more importantly – at least as far as the crew was concerned – how rich they really were.
“We come from an ancient Italian family. We’ll just say that Pietro and I can pretty much acquire whatever we want, when we want, and not bat an eye doing it,” Marco offered, his eye moving to each of Elliot’s gathering to see how that little bit of information either intrigued or disgusted each of his friends.
Thankfully, nearly all, with the exception of upwardly mobile Cindy, took what Marco told them without so much as a single flinch. That made him proud of his gang. Rich kids or not, they had to score with his crew on their own merits. Cindy’s eyes just sparkled with the endless possibilities the brothers represented. The fact that there were two only seemed to double her chances on scoring.
Elliot didn’t know how he felt about that.
“Well, that certainly has to be a comfortable place to be. I bet coupons don’t mean a thing to your lot,” Elliot commented as the bell rang signaling lunch was over and fifth period was right around the corner.
“You might think that, but Pietro got the ‘Vette during one of those year-end sales. Made a hell of a deal to get it, too,” Marco added.
“We like a good bargain just like anyone,” Pietro added.
Everyone started to get up and gather themselves together to move off to their respective classes. Cindy gave a quick kiss to Elliot’s cheek, with an eye to the brothers, and then scurried off to her gym class. Don and the two queens paused for a moment before Elliot nudged his chin up to signal he’d catch up with them later before they reluctantly moved on without him. Only Danny seemed to linger – occupying himself with something in his backpack to eat up the time. This pleased Elliot to no end that Danny didn’t want to leave him alone with the hypnotically handsome brothers.
“What do you have next?” Pietro asked Elliot as Danny picked up his backpack and skateboard, trying his damnedest not to look like he was paying attention when he totally was.
A devilish smile snaked across Elliot’s lips as he replied, his gaze moving from a disgruntled Danny to Pietro, “Civics. You?”
“Psychology. Or what this school passes off as Intro to Psych,” he replied mirroring Elliot’s smile. He seemed aware of Danny’s little jealous ploy, too. Elliot thought maybe they weren’t so good at hiding their affection for one another like he thought.
“Marco’s got Spanish,” Pietro added.
Elliot had to admit that the Sforza brothers were wickedly sexy no matter what expression they chose to share with others. Marco stood slightly behind his brother and pretended to look around the quad as people moved off to class. There wasn’t much time left.
Danny snorted and began to move off without saying anything further.
“Meet up after school like usual?” Elliot called out to him.
Danny paused and glanced at both brothers before nodding and moving on without saying a word. Nothing could please Elliot more than the brothers’ finding a way to do something others could not – leave firecracker Danny speechless.
Now, that is some kinda power, indeed, Elliot thought.
The brothers turned to watch Danny leave, though what they thought about that little exchange between him and Elliot they didn’t say.
“Well, thanks for letting us join your little crew for lunch. Being new here makes it a bit difficult to find our own group of friends at school. So, um, thanks.” Marco said as he turned to move off to his Spanish class.
“Sure thing …” Elliot called out to them as Pietro followed Marco off the plateau. “Anytime …”
They paused for a moment and both nodded before moving off, leaving Elliot to realize he had less than a minute to make it to class.
“So you seem pretty enamored with the newbie guys,” Danny muttered as he slowly rode the skateboard next to Elliot who had to make his way home on foot. They were taking their usual route from the school down a few blocks to Main Street. This way they could make their usual pitstop at the local Dairy Queen his grandfather ran and get a free sundae or something.
There was unease in the way Danny talked to him now. Elliot had to admit that there was a part of him that liked that the brothers’ presence was enough to rattle Danny’s perceived place in Elliot’s world.
Silly boy, no one can ever replace you with me, he thought to himself.
“I wouldn’t say enamored was the right word,” Elliot commented as he plucked a leaf from a tree that lined this part of the sidewalk as they turned onto Telegraph Road and the strip mall where the Q awaited them.
“Oh, no? What word would you use, then?”
“I don’t know. Intriguing, unusual, hypnotic.”
“Ah-ha! Hypnotic … you are smitten with them!”
“Not likely. Jesus, I have a word for you though …”
“Do tell, Donahey. I’d just love to hear this.”
“Oh, how about jealous.”
“Fuck you, Donahey.”
“And there we have it, folks. Supremely confident Daniel Lynn Jericho totally in freak out mode by a couple of rich dudes that don’t mean dick to me.”
Danny suddenly stopped with the back of his hand to Elliot’s stomach.
“Seriously. C’mon D-man. It’s always been you. You know that.”
Danny looked away. This is when Danny usually retreated. Anytime Elliot made their relationship more real Danny took to the hills. Elliot nudged Danny’s shoulder with his to hopefully lighten the mood a bit.
“I know what you want, Els.” He turned from looking down the road to have his eyes meet Elliot’s.
Make or break time …
“And on some level, I want that, too. It’s just …”
“I’m not the one, am I? No matter how much we dance around it, no matter how much I want it, it’s just not meant to be, is it?”
“It’s not that.”
“Then what is it?”
Danny shrugged. “I wish I knew. God, Els, I really don’t know why I am so afraid of an us. Maybe because if something messes up then I’ll stand a real chance of losing what we have already. I … just can’t chance that.”
“So, what? You’d rather see me with someone else because you’re afraid we wouldn’t work out and I’d cut you out of my life forever? That’s a pretty shitty thing to throw on someone. And a pretty pathetic excuse for why we can’t be.”
“Nah, forget it. I got the message. I’ll see ya around.”
Elliot moved off, leaving Danny, and a piece of his heart behind him.
Two hours and two hot fudge sundaes later he made his way from the Q down the road that led to his house. Dusk had fully started to cloak the evening in darkened hues and magical light. It was Elliot’s favorite time of the day and yet, never had his heart been so heavy or so troubled.
He shuffled his feet as he turned onto Oak Ridge Way. His house was the last on this cul-de-sac. A few houses lined his side of the road; the other side was a bramble of blackberry canes and various bushes and trees that lined the sloping ridge his street straddled along the hillside in this part of Mercy. A slightly cool breeze billowed across his body, bringing goose flesh to the surface of his skin. Elliot couldn’t tell if the goose bumps were from the breeze or from something else.
For the past block or so Elliot couldn’t help but feel that he wasn’t alone. A few times he glanced around but the street was eerily empty except for him. Not even a passing car moved along the road with him. Maybe it was just his rambling thoughts over Danny’s commitment issues might be making him feel a bit on the anxious side of life. Maybe that’s what it was.
He glanced back to the corner and then across the street to the blackberry canes.
He started to walk toward his house again when some movement in the canes caught his attention. It could be anything. Deer often wandered the hillside in these parts, even coyotes and bobcats on occasion. Elliot was used to those things. But this, this felt different.
Like someone was there.
The light was almost gone now. Only a single porch light a few houses down glimmered in the distance, but otherwise there wasn’t much in the way of adequate illumination that he could count on to reveal what that sudden shift in the bushes could be.
Elliot took a few steps off the curb onto the street, his eyes squinting the tiniest bit, trying to sort out what was there. Another step brought him closer to what was on the other side of the canes. He could almost make out the shape. Whatever it was, it was big.
Bright headlights caught him standing in the middle of the street. The rumble from his father’s Ford pickup throbbed behind those brilliant beams. His dad leaned out the window.
“You wanna tell your old man what you’re doing in the middle of the road or is this some sort of school project?”
“Jesus, Dad! You fucking scared the crap outta me!”
“Uh huh. Get in, Son, before you turn into someone else’s road kill.”
Elliot spared a quick look at the bushes along the hillside before joining his father in the truck. Whatever it was no longer lingered there. No doubt startled by the massive pickup and the bright lights. He slumped into the seat next to his father as he closed the door not caring where his backpack ended up on the floor of the vehicle.
“Bad first day?”
“Jury’s still out. It was … shall we just say it was, odd?”
“Oh, yeah? How so?” He put the truck into gear and started to move the couple hundred feet to the end of the street and their house.
“Oh, nothing. Just new guys on campus.”
“They didn’t try to mess with you, did they? That’s the whole reason why I taught you how to …”
“What? No. It’s nothing like that. Just … I dunno. It’s all mixed up. Then, there’s Danny. He certainly didn’t help matters much.”
Elliot’s father, Nick, smirked the tiniest bit. He’d been watching his son and his would-be boyfriend go back and forth on making anything permanent in their relationship. He was slightly conflicted about Elliot’s woes with Danny. On one hand, he got why Danny kept doing the guy thing and being non-committal while on the other, he totally wanted to wring Danny’s neck for causing his son so much grief. But, on the whole, he knew it was best for them to sort it out. He accepted that Danny as one of the good guys. He didn’t think Danny would intentionally hurt Elliot, but being a good father, he was always keeping an ear to the ground whenever Elliot grumbled about their on-and-off status. So far it seemed just more of the same. Nothing too much to worry about.
“You two have a spat?” he asked as he turned the truck into their driveway and up to the large two car garage that doubled as Nick’s workshop.
“Nah, not really.”
“Okay.” Nick knew to wait it out; eventually his son would cough up the goods.
“It’s just …”
And here it comes …
He turned off the truck, carefully placing a hand on his son’s arm to stall him from climbing out of the truck.
“Well,” he sighed, then in his usual slurry of verbal diarrhea it all came out, “there’s these new guys, right? Totally hot new guys and yeah, I get it that you don’t get that, but you gotta trust me on this. They’re the shit. And they’re nice, too. I met them. Well, we have Drama second period together. Oh and they’re twins, identical, too. Two hottie boys, total foxes and they keep looking my way. Why? I have no fucking idea. But they watch me … in a weird but slightly sexy way that’s completely unnerving but totally hot all the same time. So, of course Danny got all what the fuck about it and yeah, we sorta had a tiff about it and I ended up eating two hot fudge sundaes and now I think I’m gonna be sick and that’s why the jury’s still out on my epic first day of school.”
Nick ran a hand down his face, mostly to hide the small smile that threatened to consume his face over his son’s teen angsty hormonal boy troubles. Not that he was making light of them, but more of how much adjusting he had to do whenever he had these one-on-one father-son talks. He knew when Elliot was born that he was going to be gay. It just came to him in a dream while his wife was pregnant. But it never prepared him for the “boy trouble” talks. They still sort of amused him a bit.
“Okay, so no dinner for you, tonight? You know your mom’s gonna be a little cranky about that, spoiling your dinner and all.”
“So not the point of our conversation here.”
“No, I get that. So who are these boys?”
“Marco and Pietro Sforza.”
“Oh, those guys.”
“You know them?”
“Contract work. I did some modifications to their bedrooms and a few other rooms in that old abandoned mansion they purchased on the other side of town.”
“So you’ve met them?”
“No. I worked with I guess what could amount to their butler or house manager or hell, I dunno. Anyway, his name is Angus. Nice enough guy, easy to work with. So, I did the work and was out before the brothers took possession of the house. Never saw ’em.”
“Well, that’s probably a good thing. They’re way … well, just way.”
“Well, that’s evocative.”
Elliot smirked. It was so like his dad to pull out his literary genius with just the right word to catch his attention. He loved his dad and the fact that Elliot’s gayness didn’t seem to bother him at all even if he could sense his dad having to constantly play the translation card from girl troubles to the boy flavored variety.
He had to give it to his dad on how hard he tried to be there for him as he navigated this thing called teen life. It couldn’t be easy. Maybe he needed to cut his dad some slack.
“Look, I appreciate your taking the time to listen to my first school day woes, and boy troubles, which can’t be an easy thing for you. But I seriously need to just chill and take some Pepto-Bismol or something to settle my stomach and get some homework done sometime before sunrise.”
Nick pulled his son to him for a hug, mussing his hair the tiniest bit as he did.
“Love ya, Son. And don’t you worry about the whole boy trouble thing. Yeah, it’s different from what I thought we’d talk about when you were growing up, but I’ve settled that score inside a long time ago. We’re good. Okay?”
“Dad, the hair … really?” He smiled softly as he tried not to barf all over his dad. He really needed to get inside and do something about his stomach. He popped open the door to the truck and started to climb out. His father came around the other side of the vehicle and hugged his son.
“Alright, alright. Time out on the boy probs. Get inside and see to your stomach and homework. I’ll do my best to pacify your mom about you spoiling your dinner.” He moved off to the house while Elliot re-inserted a few things that slipped out of his backpack. After he closed the door his stomach gurgled.
Just as he reached for the back door to the kitchen he shivered from head to toe and he heard it. A soft rustle of leaves along the hillside caught his attention.
“C-a-s-s-i-e-l …“ a male voice he couldn’t quite place lingered on the air.
That shiver moved through him again as a small gust of air moved across the backyard, caressing his skin, a small trace of lavender scenting the breeze.
He looked from one side of the hill lining the backyard to the other. He couldn’t sort out where the voice or that scent came from. But something was there, something that had an interest in him.
Before he could become bait for something he wasn’t ready for he quickly opened the door and slipped inside. It didn’t stop him from looking out the back door window.
Not a damned thing.
Meanwhile, some 5,416 miles away …
London fog moved over Tower Bridge. At this early morning hour, very few cars moved along this part of the road. A formidable looking man in a dark suit with a dark overcoat stood along the east side of the bridge, his gaze focused on St. Katherine’s Dockyard in the distance.
He lit a cigarette, the soft blueish glow from his electric lighter as he lit the cigarette briefly colored his face in a cool light. He inhaled deeply, enjoying the taste of the tobacco as it snaked its way into him. A stiff breeze coming off the Thames blew his overcoat open. He relished the cold. He found it refreshing from the arid nights of Spain just twenty-four hours ago.
Two men, of similar dark suits and overcoats approached the man enjoying his early morning smoke. The sun still hadn’t threatened to rise just yet. He had about an hour or so if his calculations were correct. Plenty of time.
The men reached him as he took his third drag.
“Were you successful?” he asked his new companions.
“We were,” one of the two men replied.
The man turned to face them, a stream of smoke trailing into the men’s faces. They paid it no mind.
“They’ve relocated to a small Northern California town just north of Big Sur. A town called Mercy.”
He nodded, saying nothing further. He turned to face the docks again.
“So, the Sforza boys thought they could hide from me.”
“Shall we make the necessary arrangements?”
He nodded, taking another drag from the cigarette as the two men moved off.
If you like these characters in this web series you might want to check out the original Angels of Mercy series that has the same cast of characters but in a completely different setting and time.
The limousine moved quietly along the road into the long-abandoned property. Inside, Night Fever by the Bee Gees played softly from the more than adequate speaker system. The two occupants barely registered the tempo of the song by tapping their fingers to the lilting disco beat.
The car paused briefly at the gate. The driver, a young muscular man with devilishly good looks of dark auburn hair and verdant green eyes punched in the gate code to permit the limo to proceed down the long winding driveway to the house while the late afternoon sun played against the sunroof.
Marco Sforza, one of the two young occupants, glanced up at the glowing orb radiating against the heavily tinted glass before turning that glance toward his twin brother who only snorted in response before he turned his attention to the large moving trucks that already lined the long driveway to the Italian villa styled house.
“Well, it looks like most of the furniture made it here,” Pietro murmured to his brother.
“At least that’s something,” Marco replied slipping on his designer sunglasses in anticipation of moving from the limo to the house itself.
“Well, it means we won’t have to sleep on crates tonight, which will keep me from being cranky.”
Marco chuckled at his brother’s last. “When have we ever had to sleep on crates?”
“1863, in that hellhole of a town in Georgia during that unfortunate uprising of hunters and their ilk.”
Marco nodded, instantly recalling that rather bothersome moment in their past. “We didn’t sleep, though. It was more of a quiet repose before we responded.”
“Well, call it what you will, it was still uncomfortable as fuck.”
The car came to a stop. The brothers departed the vehicle and made their way past moving boys and the many crates and unpacked furniture that dotted the large foyer on their way to their final destinations within the spacious home.
Pietro stopped next to his brother, casting his eye to the large domed stained-glass piece that dominated the entrance to the house. Marco let his gaze match his brother’s. He frowned a tiny bit.
“It looks better than the photos led us to believe.”
“Well, it’s not as if we can’t afford buying the place and remaking it to suit our needs. But I have to say I do like the domed glasswork. Reminds me of home.”
They made their way from the foyer up the grand spiral staircase to take in their sleeping quarters.
“The construction people said that both bedrooms are completed and should be to our exact specifications.”
“Tinted windows and the lot?”
“Tinted windows and the lot …” Pietro confirmed.
The two master bedrooms were exact mirrors of each other, separated by grand pocket doors. Large California King-sized beds stood against opposite walls with a classically designed paneled oak headboard that exuded confidence in a very masculine manner.
The bedrooms still had a few crates of clothing and various items that still needed to be placed within the room, but all in all, they were nearly complete making the brother’s genuinely smile at their good fortune in finding things moving along as they’d hoped.
“Everything to your liking, sirs?” Angus’ warm baritone mellowed its way into the room behind the brothers. They turned to greet him.
“More than adequate, and what’s with this “sirs“ business? When were you so formal?”
Confusion played across Angus’ handsome face as he tried to come up with an adequate response.
“I merely thought that since we’d moved into a new town and the moving staff were about the place it might be prudent for me to take a more … conservative approach.”
“Ah, point taken,” Marco nodded in agreement. Pietro for his part didn’t seem to have a feeling one way or another about it.
Feeling a bit out of place Angus added, “I’ll just go down and see to the distribution of the crates and clothing items so we can get them all inside the house if not in their rightful place. Give me a holler if you need me.”
And with that, he turned and left them.
“You think he’ll fit in here?” Pietro asked as he moved from Marco’s bedroom through the pocket doorway into his own.
“In what way? It’s not like he’s socially inept, ya know.”
“True. But he can be rather … what’s the word?”
“Stodgy? Stick up his ass erect? Stickler for details?”
“Well, some of that but not nearly as bad as you’re making things out to be.”
By now Marco had moved over to a flat crate that contained the brother’s most prized possession: a painting of a young lad with the most beguiling looks that either brother had ever seen. The boy in the picture had long since passed on having lived four centuries earlier back in Ireland. But the Sforza boys never forgot to bring him, or rather the painting, along wherever they set up home.
“Now where to put you, my lovely …” Marco murmured.
“If it’s Cassiel you’re referring to, then he goes in the receiving room. Don’t think you can rob me of his beauty by sequestering him in your own room. You remember what happened the last time you pulled that particular stunt.”
Marco remembered all too well. It culminated in both brothers playing a world-wide game of keep away to the point where the damned thing nearly ended up in the Atlantic Ocean.
“I’ll leave it for Angus to decide where best to put it.”
“There’s a good brother,” Pietro called from his room.
“But I’ll pay him extra to make sure it’s more to my liking …”
“Preternatural hearing … I heard that!”
Elliot turned up the volume on his small transistor radio, trying like hell to get the best signal from KIDD, the AM disco station broadcasting out of Monterey. The gang still hadn’t bothered to show up for the first day of school. Word had it that some new rich kids had moved into the area and everyone was dying to get a peek at them. His gal pal in crime, Cindy Markham, said she had it confirmed that they were twins and hotter than bacon sizzling on the grill pan, or something like that. She wasn’t very good with her metaphors. In fact, it was a damned good thing she was pretty because she came up woefully short with the smarts. But he supposed that’s why he led this rag-tag group of students he hung out with.
From the far edge of the parking lot he spied Danny skateboarding his way toward their usual hangout along the planter just outside the main entrance to the school.
“Well, at least one of them bothered to show,” he muttered to himself. As Danny drew near, Elliot finally found the best spot for his radio to pick up his favorite station; Diana Ross’ Love Hangover was prophetically playing from the tiny speaker. Indeed, Elliot noted, his summer had been woefully short of any real loving despite his family taking a trip to celebrate the Bicentennial of the country during his vacation. School was about to start full-throttle with the steady flow of students arriving on campus.
“Hey E-man, whassup? Good summer?”
Elliot snorted, “You should know … we ended up spending most of it together, dork.”
“Oh yeah, I thought you looked familiar. Mom said to have a great day at school, by the way.”
Elliot smiled broadly. He loved Danny’s mom more than anything. She treated Elliot like he was a prince and Elliot lapped that shit up. Danny provided no end of teasing whenever he spied their little mutual love fest.
“It’s school, numb nuts. Not like we really want to be here.”
“Ah! Except everyone wants to be here today … new kids hit the school. Seniors, too, from what Cindy said.”
“What she do? Hide in their bushes for the intel or what?”
Danny snorted, “Probably under their beds, more like. You know Cindy.”
They both knew that part about Cindy and her less than pious ways when it came to boys. Right on cue, Cindy’s step-dad’s MG sports car made its appearance and she quickly departed without so much as a goodbye to him before he drove off.
“Hey, girl. Lookin’ mighty fine there, sweetness!” Elliot called out to her bringing a warm smile for his affectionate welcome.
“I wore it just for you …” She did a quick turn from side to side, showing off the pale grey with pink piping short shorts, a low cut v-neck sweater in grey and pink and knee-high socks that matched down to her grey colored Keds. With her long curly dishwater blond hair cascading down her back she was a vision of female beauty. Elliot could appreciate that, even if he had little interest beyond friendship with her. She promptly took up her place next to Elliot with his arm wrapped around her.
“Are you sure it wasn’t for those new boys? I think Elliot’s just getting the benefit of your playing to the newbies on campus, no?” Danny raised a brow to goad her a bit further.
“No, I did not! I had this picked out three days ago. I wore it for my guy, Elliot. You all just reap the benefits of my stunning ensemble.”
“Oy, no one’s gonna buy that …” Danny added shaking his head in disbelief.
It was a stretch, even Elliot had to see that. Cindy may be tight with Elliot, but she was also opportunistic when it came to meeting and playing around with the boys who wanted to play back. She knew that wasn’t going to be Elliot no matter how much she wanted it to be.
Within minutes the rest of the gang had arrived with Marty and Enrique bringing up the rear of their little posse. The final bell of the summer vacation sounded as a fiery Corvette made its way onto the senior parking lot. Knowing they had only seven minutes to get to class, they all stood rooted to their spots to observe who was going to get out of the hottest fucking car at the school.
As if scripted from an ABC After-School Special, two strapping boys emerged from the car. Both were sublimely beautiful with wild manes of thick dark hair, stylish clothes that would make the richest kid at the school envious, and confidence oozing from every pore. These two boys moved from their stud muffin car to a side entrance of the main building while Elliot’s crew looked on. The gang didn’t need any further temptations to get them to rush indoors to watch where these two golden boys were heading.
“That’s them!” Cindy squealed quietly into Elliot’s ear but loud enough for everyone else to hear.
The boys made their way down the long hallway toward the main office to the right of Elliot’s little gang.
“C’mon, dudes, we gotta get to class,” Marty mentioned to them all reminding them of their current destinations. The group slowly broke up and went their separate ways with promises of gathering at the plateau for lunch.
As Elliot began to move off he caught the attention of one of the twins, who paused slightly, his gaze intensifying sharply, almost glowing through the tinted sunglasses for just a moment, before moving off to the administration office. If Elliot were being totally honest with himself, there was something wicked that passed between them in that moment. Elliot walked away from that little scene a changed man. He just had no way of knowing how much change was coming his way.
Drama – easily Elliot’s favorite and constant elective class for as long as the Drama department and the instructor would have him.
In recent years, he’d made a name for himself as he possessed the triple threat – he could sing, dance and act without becoming stilted or phoning in a performance. Truth be told, he basked in the aura of the spotlight. He wasn’t the best dancer when he arrived at Mercy High, but his bestie, Danny, who was an accomplished ballet dancer, had improved his ability to move across the stage with far more grace than God had originally gifted him.
He saw the usual suspects, or what other people called students, who had been there the year before. Now that the previous senior class had cleared out, Elliot thought he would have a clear path to dominate the school plays this year. His day suddenly became quite a bit brighter with that thought.
As he took his seat along the perimeter of the staging area he nodded to a couple of the gay boys he knew congregated in the arts – safety in numbers was the rule of thumb when you were queer. Elliot knew that even if he were able to pass it off and confuse most kids with Cindy on his arm most of the time. It was all just an act. That’s why he was so good at this drama thing: acting for him was a way of life. In a town like Mercy, it was nothing short of survival.
The fall play hadn’t been announced prior to the school year. He supposed the drama teacher, Mr. Ray, had something special in mind and was playing it close to the chest.
A second or two later and the two queeniest guys Elliot knew, Terri and Randy, turned the corner. Proud, fierce and totally flamboyantly gay in a swirl of bright colors more appropriate for a nightclub than a high school, they floated in as only two balls-to-the-wall black drag queens could. Their grand entrance caught the attention of some frightened freshman. The duo took no notice and squealed so high when they caught sight of Elliot sitting by himself in the back row of the theatre-in-the-round set up Mr. Ray favored for improv class work. Elliot was sure that the candy glass props in the back room would probably shatter with the racket they were making over seeing him.
“Girl! Whatchoo doin’ hangin’ in the back row like some sad, sorry, freshman? Ain’t you got the memo? We’re upper-class girls now; we needs us some front row seats!” Randy wailed, bringing a warm smile to Elliot’s lips as he rose to meet them.
As much as Randy and Terri counted on Elliot’s protection as part of his crew on campus, Elliot lapped up their brand of fierce defiance in the face of constant adversity. But Elliot also knew these boys knew how to throw down. Randy may sport long nails and pitch his voice just high enough to play with people’s ears as well as their perception of him, but he cut his nails in such a way that a single side-swipe of his hand could slice you open like a knife through warm butter. And Terri was even more limber than Danny – which was really saying something – and knew more moves than Bruce Lee if it came down to it. Sadly, these queens had seen more than their fair share of horrid fights.
Elliot gave them tight hugs and blew soft kisses along each cheek – because you never messed with a queen’s face makeup. That was a sure-fire way to get your ass drop kicked in a New York minute. They took their seats with Randy and Terri choosing the last two in the front row with Elliot next to them.
“So, Mr. Ray hasn’t said a word about this year’s musical production, yet,” Terri began.
“Yeah, not even a word about the play for the fall either.”
“The nerve of Minerva … don’t she know we have a life outside this here joint?” Randy quipped. Terri leaned toward Elliot with crossed eyes, making Elliot chortle a bit at their perception of how Mr. Ray chose to run his department.
“Sometimes that queen don’t know his ass from a hole in the ground. Now, if he’d just do a local production of The Wiz we’d all make bookoo-de-bucks and gain us a little fame in the process. He’d only have to cast me as Dorothy …”
“You as Dorothy? Your skinny black ass can’t pull off Stephanie Mills, girl. You bettah get yourself to the corner store and pick you up some sense, Miss Thang, ‘cause you is runnin’ woefully short.” Randy laughed his ass off just imagining skinny Terri doubling for Broadway’s Supreme Miss Mills.
“Oh? And you think you can pull it off? Girl, you know you got them Glinda wide hips that just demands that you play her. So, you can’t do Dorothy, neither,” Terri shot back.
“Okay, we’ll leave it to Els to sort it. Go on girl, you tell us who should play her,” Randy offered by way of a truce.
Elliot stammered for a couple of seconds. “I was thinkin’, maybe … I … should play her?”
They looked at Elliot as if he suddenly was struck dumb or something, then turned to each other with a snark-laden glance between them.
“Girl, now, we know you can sang with the best of us. Our little trio’s rendition of Diana Ross and the Supremes at last year’s talent show was legendary. We nailed that shit to the fucking wall. You know we did. And you know we love you like our luggage. But seriously, girl, there just aren’t enough starring roles for diva’s like ourselves as it is. What makes you think we’d let a lily-white assed queen like yourself take all the best songs? Might as well do the original if we’re gonna Ease On Down that road. Okay, chica?”
Elliot smirked at being schooled by them in the nicest of ways when they could’ve just given him real shit about it. “You’re right … of course. I suppose I could usher while y’all carry on in the spotlight.”
Randy gasped, “Nah, you ain’t gotta get all over dramatic nor nothin’ … a little darker foundation and you could pass for Puerto Rican or a high-yellow black.”
“Are you fucking kidding me? With my white ass? There ain’t a Max Factor foundation real enough to pull off that cultural shift. You know what I’m sayin’?”
They all broke out laughing and high-fived each other.
“Yeah, you were the whitest Diana Ross this world has ever seen. Even if she sometimes forgets who she is …” Terri added, laughing through tears.
“That diva has some serious identity issues,” Randy snorted, waving a hand to dismiss their perceived Ms. Ross’ cultural confusion.
“Mmm-hmm, can you spell passin’?” Terri readily agreed.
“Oh-kay …” they high-fived each other.
A few more students found their way into the classroom and started to fill in the empty seats, just as Mr. Ray entered, his bald scalp framed by long wisps of wild gray hair that was combed into a sweeping mane. Coupled with his salt and pepper goatee his appearance gave him a Shakespearean flair. He slammed his lesson book onto his desk at the corner of the room just as the bell rang to call class to order.
Elliot surveyed the current class makeup. For the most part, it was inundated with terrified wide-eyed freshman.
Cool, he thought to himself. It meant that he and his two besties sitting next to him would dominate the class and terrify the little runts into submission.
They should know who reigns in this class from the start.
Before Mr. Ray could say his first word of the school year two more students made their entrance and caught everyone off-guard. It was the twin boys Elliot and his crew spied this morning parking that hellacious Corvette in the senior lot.
“Fuck me running …” Terri whispered, fanning himself furiously as if the temperature in the room suddenly rose with these two boys making their appearance. He wasn’t far off the mark on that one. Even Elliot felt a bit flush eyeing them so closely.
“Girl, who are those two hunks of man-flesh?” Randy leaned in and asked.
“New boys. Rich boys, too,” Elliot offered by way of a loose explanation. Aside from that, he didn’t know much about them. Only now, as they gazed out among the classroom he found himself seriously cursing himself for not grilling Cindy on them last night when they had their nightly phone call.
They handed Mr. Ray their add slips. Their teacher couldn’t help but beam that the two most gorgeous boys on campus had signed up for his class. Their prospects of ticket sales just increased tenfold if not more. To say Mr. Ray was delighted at this turn of events would be akin to his being given carte blanc on this year’s budget. Given the boy’s perceived wealth, that just might be the case.
“Well, everyone, it appears we have two new seniors in our fold: uh, a rather handsome collection of brothers, Marco and Pietro Sforza. Gentlemen, if you could take your seats and welcome to the Drama department.”
“Ol’ Raymond is just giddier than shit at these two studs being interested in his class,” Randy quipped with a small knowing snort watching, along with everyone else as the brothers moved to the opposite side of the room and took seats along the back row, almost mirroring where Elliot sat before Randy and Terri’s arrival.
A crackle from the loudspeaker broke the whispers and murmurs among the class. A small smile graced Elliot’s lips in anticipation of the daily announcements only because Danny was the one to give the school the 411 on all things Mercy High.
“Yo, dudes, and dudettes! Time for the first daily Mercy High report of the school year. School spirit week is on this week. Discounts for school lunches if you wear school colors during spirit week so be sure to take advantage of your downward spiraling dietary needs by paying less for that round of botulism and show your school spirit in the process. Ouch! Jesus, what was that for?”
Principal Silverstein’s voice could be heard in the background.
“Just read the notices without the commentary.”
“Okay, okay. Geez! In other news guys and gals, before I was so rudely interrupted, the annual Halloween dance is a little over a month away. Any local bands wanting to audition for the dance are encouraged to show up this Friday after school in the gym. Let’s all hope they know more than four chords and sing in a key other than X, though we’re not holding out much hope if past years are any indication.”
“Yeah, yeah, moving on … aside from the new exchange students roaming the halls, we have new dudes on campus! I won’t bore you with the people who don’t really matter in life, but two new dudes have made a serious impression within a matter of seconds arriving this morning. Please welcome Marco and Pietro Sforza to the school. It’s not like you didn’t see them arrive in that hellaciously hot ‘Vette with the kick-ass sound system this morning. So, uh, welcome bros, you’re Mercy High Avenging Angels now. I bet you just can’t wait for the absolute dullness that is Mercy to permeate every facet of your lives now, right? Lastly, in other boring news, choir, band and drama auditions are being held this week if you’re interested and have no desire to gain a social life. Because we all know that talent reigns supreme in this here joint. And yes, Silverstein, I’m moving on. Details on the auditions are located on the main bulletin board outside the administration office and outside the music and drama rooms.”
What? I’m done already. Chill out, man. And that wraps up this edition of Mercy High news.”
Mr. Ray didn’t look too pleased with Danny’s slight against the Drama and Music departments, especially given that Danny was a bona fide artist himself. But Elliot got why Danny did such things and knew it flew under the banner of survival, just like Elliot did every time he pulled Cindy close and mocked their pseudo-relationship – a relationship that he knew Cindy wanted to become real at nearly any cost. It was a touchy part of his life that he did everything to avoid. Having Danny in his life only complicated matters more. He loved Danny with all of his heart and thought Danny felt the same. They’d even messed around from time to time and it got very heavy each time they did. Only Danny never seemed to want to commit to being Elliot’s boyfriend so they’d mutually decided to cool things a bit between them. But he saw that grit of Danny’s teeth each time Elliot pulled Cindy to him.
Why can’t he just admit we’re meant to be together? Elliot pondered for the umpteenth time.
“Sweetness, you aren’t still carrying a torch for that foxy-assed boy, are you?” Terri whispered as Mr. Ray began to write something on the blackboard for the class to begin.
Elliot shook his head, but couldn’t hide from either queen how painful that situation with Danny truly was.
Terri took Elliot’s hand and gently stroked it. “Girl, you know he loves you more than he can ever willingly admit. Just give him time to come around. That boy is fine as fuck and you two look so damned cute together.”
“No one has a finer ass than Danny. You can bounce a quarter off that shit,” Randy concurred, shuddering at the thought of having a little naked time with him.
Elliot appreciated his friend’s encouragement, but to be honest, Elliot thought that boat had now truly set sail. He didn’t know if Danny would ever come around like he wanted him to.
Besides, I got two fine-as-fuck boys sitting on the other side of the room to think about now. Danny can just stew in his contradictory juices for all he cared now.
Elliot eyed both boys who seemed to have a trained eye on Elliot as well. If Elliot were honest with himself he seriously felt like both boys were undressing him with their eyes, as if they knew what he looked like naked to the world. It was positively carnal the way they were looking at him as if he were fresh meat.
“But don’t look now, baby boy. It seems you have the attention of our newbie boys,” Terri added, letting go of Elliot’s hand and nudging him with his shoulder.
“They’s looking at you like you’re what’s for lunch. Ooh, oui! Yes, queen, they just want to eat you up,” Randy added with a hushed squeal for emphasis – as if it needed any.
Mr. Ray had taken a position in front of his desk, choosing to sit along its edge to get things rolling.
“Well, let’s all get acquainted, shall we? Let’s go around the room and say our names and let everyone know what you’ve done in the world of theater, if any, and don’t be shy. The theater is no place for shyness to have a home. We’re in the business of exploring the human condition and truth. If you’ve got issues with talking to a group, then you’re going to struggle in this class. So fess up if that’s an issue for you and we’ll talk after class. As a side note, I’ve posted the audition times on the board for our first production of the year. We’re doing a mystery: Any Number Can Die, a sort of send-up of Agatha Christie. It’s a comedy and I hope you all will be interested in auditing for it, despite what Mr. Jericho had to say about it.”
Elliot knew that Danny would have to eat some major crow with Mr. Ray over that first school announcement. A smirk graced his lips just imagining that scenario playing itself out. Danny often didn’t police his mouth when it came to such things and it never ceased to be a source of entertainment watching Danny verbally dance his way out of his own messes.
For the next thirty minutes, the class members introduced themselves. It turned out for a predominantly freshman-laden class, several of those fresh faces had actually trod the boards in community or semi-professional theater. There was one aspiring kid, Dana, who had even done TV commercials and union work in Hollywood during pilot season. Randy and Terri almost openly sneered at the list of accomplishments the wide-eyed boy seemed more than happy to announce to the class.
Even Elliot had to admit that the little twerp grated on his last throbbing nerve a bit too much. They were going to have to sideline the little beast before he got uppity with everyone.
Then it came to the Sforza boys.
One of them stood up with such cat-like grace that Elliot found himself flushing at just how stunningly beautiful the boy was.
No, not a boy at all. He was already a man. I can practically smell it, Elliot pondered as the man announced himself to the class. His brother remained silent but never lifted his pointed gaze from Elliot across the room.
“I am Marco Sforza. This is my brother, Pietro. We are both classically trained actors and performers. We’ve been active over the years in professional theater back in Italy, having performed at La Scala in a few operas and even spent a summer or two doing traditional Commedia dell’arte work through small villages and towns all over Italy to much acclaim. While we respect the industries of film and television, they hold little interest for us as we prefer the immediacy of live performance to those captured on film or video.” Marco eyed the freshman twerp with a pointed stare that did worlds for quashing the little upstart’s ego. “Fame is fleeting. Serving the work is what’s important.”
Mr. Ray nearly cried tears of joy just hearing Marco’s words. Elliot swore he ran a quick hand over his face before he responded to Marco as he retook his seat.
“Well now, that was very encouraging to hear you and your brother’s experiences in theater. I don’t know how we were so lucky to benefit from your experiences but I can’t tell you how happy I am to have you both here in our little classroom.”
Both brothers nodded at the same time. Almost eerily so. Something about these two unnerved Elliot a bit. He couldn’t put his finger on why that was.
“But the brothers bring up a valid point that I want to poll from each of you so I know where you are with regards to the history of theater. While we do concentrate on performance in this class and will be going through improvs and scene studies, we will also be covering the history of theater so this is not a fly-by-the-seat-of-your-pants sort of elective. You will work in this class. With that in mind, I will be passing out a one-page pop quiz of sorts to see how much you know. This is not for a grade, so the pressure is off with this one. It’s more of a barometer so I know what areas I need to concentrate on as we move through the class over the semester. Take the next fifteen minutes to fill it out and leave it in the inbox tray here on my desk as you make your way to your next period class.”
He handed out the quiz and everyone began to write. Elliot, Randy, and Terri had the benefit of knowing most of the material by now as the range of topics never changed. Elliot scrawled out as concisely as he could the answers he knew Mr. Ray would expect of him. As he flipped the page over, he glanced up and found that both brothers seemed to have already finished their quizzes and were quietly chatting up Mr. Ray near his makeshift office behind several ornate dressing screens. Mr. Ray only seemed too delighted that he had such willing participants involved in his department now. He was practically glowing from the experience.
Elliot hastily finished his quiz, scribbling out something coherent but he had to see what the brothers had written on their tests. His curiosity was getting the better of him. That wasn’t always a good thing.
The bell rang just as he reached the desk to find he was the third test to hit the tray. He quickly pulled both sheets from the tray and began to peruse them with wide-eyed fascination. What he found was beyond his wildest expectations.
In the most delicate, but identical script, the brothers detailed every facet of theater history across the ages. Their handwriting belonged to another age entirely. Historical documents didn’t have the deft hand or delicate script these boys possessed. And the sheer number of words that they put down wasn’t simply possible given the amount of time they took to answer the damned thing.
He bit his lower lip just trying to put it all together.
You know … you can always ask if you want to know something about us … he swore he heard Marco’s voice color his ear.
Anytime … any place. We’re here for you, Elliot …
He flinched at the sound of both brothers whispering in his ear only to realize that neither brother was anywhere near him but that the class had also completely cleared out. He glanced at the clock and it was nearly lunch!
How the fuck had that happened?
He’d somehow been overwhelmed reading their quizzes; he missed the next two periods entirely! Didn’t anyone notice him standing there? Why didn’t Randy or Terri say anything to him to snap him out of it?
He hastily grabbed his backpack from where he left it at the end of Mr. Ray’s desk just as the bell for lunch rang out. He bolted from the confines of the classroom into the harsh light of a brilliant fall day. It took his eyes several seconds to adjust but he knew he had to get to his crew and tell them what happened.
“They’re just not going to believe this …” he whispered to himself as he moved among the throng of students idly chatting about random subjects as Elliot tried to cut a beeline to the school cafeteria.
If you like these characters in this web series you might want to check out the original Angels of Mercy series that has the same cast of characters but in a completely different setting and time.
Okay, maybe not totally. I can’t put the blame on someone because they created something they were passionate about. But what art does, if it’s at its best, is to inspire other artists to create. So, in that case, it is totally Whedon’s fault. He inspired me. His storytelling for Buffy the Vampire Slayer (yes, I even endured the terrible movie version with Kristy Swanson and Rutger Hauer – in the theater, as a PAYING customer no less – so I get extra-slayer points for being a supporter from the very beginning). I didn’t buy the movie version. Not when it’s available to rent. I’m not that much of a freaky fan.
I had the pleasure of meeting Mr. Whedon at Comic Con one year. I’d always heard he moves around in a constant state of exhaustion – the man works so hard all the time – and my meeting with him it was evident that even within the marketing hoopla of what he was there to promote that I was very judicious with my fawning over having a moment with him. I didn’t even bother him with a photo op because he just looked so damned tired – though it didn’t stop my daughter and mother from having me snap a picture of them. I’ve got it somewhere in my photo library … somewhere. Even my granddaughter made the rounds at the Con taking pictures with various Buffy actors when she had barely achieved her first year of life (she has the distinction of being Jonathan Strong’s very first baby pic – or so he told us as he took brief possession of my granddaughter so my daughter could snap the coveted pic of them). I already knew the do’s and don’ts of meeting him … chief amongst them was to NEVER mention his brilliant work for the movie Waterworld. That was a sure-fire way to make him walk away from you with a look that would melt you on the spot. We promptly took my daughter/mother’s pic with him and thanked him for his time and spared a thought to let that man rest soon.
He really did look exhausted. I felt enormously guilty for taking any of his time but don’t regret it happening at all.
But I digress.
I’ve always liked the paranormal or supernatural stories. Whedon’s take – when he emerged on the scene in the mid-to-late nineties – was a breath of fresh air. Not only did he have a great female protagonist but she was sharp, witty, assertive (when she needed to be), and completely three dimensional for a superhero sort of story. Who knew pop-culture refs would work in a serialized fictional story and that people were hungry for that sort of snark in their supernatural drama?
I lapped that shit up like mother’s milk.
So why write about Buffy’s influence on my works? And why wait so long between blog posts? Well, I haven’t been silent about my dealing with cancer. I am happy to report that my last CT scan showed that the cancer is gone and the residual lymph nodes that demonstrated inflammation and germicidal (the type of cancer cells for my type of cancer) cells that caused that inflammation had decreased by more than half after the second round of chemo was a complete. I was happy to discover from that bit of news from my oncologist. So the pause from my last post to this one has, thankfully, been a rosy colored one. Things are definitely looking up for me now. And having something like cancer hit you broadside (as it did for me) completely reset my clock – so to speak. What used to be important that was truly frivolous have all fallen by the wayside. Writing, now that I have some strength returning to my limbs and energy overall, has become forefront in my mind and efforts. I think I can return to the land of writing on a more consistent basis than before.
But back to Mr. Whedon and his inspirational scrivenings.
Aside from the Swanson led debacle, I pretty much own everything he’s ever worked on, written, produced (okay, maybe I’ve missed a couple there – but I’ve seen them). His character development, his ability to find tender threads within any character and make them relatable to a wide audience was something I wanted to harness and add to my own writing arsenal.
Before Buffy, words like “Owenness” (when describing the general aura of a character named Owen), or using the word “much” to proclaim complete astonishment (“Morbid much?”) or references to pop-culture slogans in the media at the time “Gee, Willow, I love your dress. How great that you’ve seen the softer side of Sears…” to establish a character’s snarky teasing/bullying were unheard of in night time evening offerings. Here was an over thirty-year-old man who was successfully capturing the rise in pop-culture use in teenage interactions was beyond brilliant.
If anything, it made me listen to my queer granddaughter and her friends far closer now as I write about my own crew of high school social misfits in Angels of Mercy. I want my kids to sound authentic. I think all writers serious about their craft do.
So why this ode to Mr. Whedon and Buffy? Because I’ve decided to do something completely bonkers. On the verge of ending my Angels of Mercy series, I am taking the entire cast of characters and recasting them all in a vampire/supernatural romp of my own. Only to make things even more interesting (at least for me) I’ve set them all back to the disco-laden days of the 1970s. Angel Flight polyester pants, candy heeled platform shoes, disco anthems on the transistor radios – what could be better for a fluffy Buffyesque vampire romp beach read? Only I’ve taken a page out of another author I admire and doing the new series as a freebie web series that I’ll compile during the month of November (using it as my NaNoWriMo) and adding some filler material and backstories to the web series to turn it into a YA book that will (hopefully) be slightly silly, slightly scary and even slightly sexy using the same cast of characters from my literary fiction series in this new scenario.
I sometimes think I need to have my head examined. I am hoping my readers who love Angels will join me and their beloved Angels of Mercy characters in a new story setting. The Same fictional town, same fictional high school, same snarky set of teens. Just toning down the over sex from the main series so it’s more YA audience bound. Maybe I’ll pick up new readers that way. Who knows? I just want to do this as a way to reexamine and explore my characters I know well and throw them into something completely off the wall fun.
I don’t think I would’ve seriously considered this pre-cancer. I think messing around with my own mortality has given me a certain freedom now that I’ve stared that mortality down and said, “Not yet … I’ve still got shit to do.”
I am confident I can pull this off. Whether my current readers will embrace it I can’t say. Fingers crossed and thanks to Mr. Whedon for giving me the idea (I am rewatching all seven seasons from the beginning while I write – giving my eyes a much-needed break from staring at the computer screen for long periods of time). Let’s see what I can do with Mercy’s Little Angels, shall we? The first “episode” hits my blog this Monday (fingers crossed). I hope you’ll join me for the journey in this retelling of my characters in a paranormal/supernatural frivolous romp.
Until next time …
That Oppressive Script … How Angels of Mercy Changed My Queer Boy Perspective on Sports
(Reprint from Rainbow Gold Reads Review)
Jocks have it hard.
They’ve got a lot to live up to as they pursue their passion in their chosen sport. This isn’t an easy thing to acknowledge on my part. I was one of those artistic queer kids that jocks loved to bag on. So why the change up in opinion?
Simple: I wrote Angels of Mercy.
When Angels presented itself (fully formed to the bitter end, mind you), I thought “Eh, I’ll bang this one out in a month.” I had the ending in my head already. I just had to write to that ending, right? Yeah, not so much it seems.
Here’s what I learned: you see, my main protagonist, Marco Sforza, is built upon my husband’s experiences playing football both at the high school level at Massillon, Ohio (the heart of high school American Football as we know it) and for Clemson U back in the day (admittedly a very different era than Marco’s present day story). So given the disparity in my husband’s and Marco’s timelines, I had to make some adjustments between my husband’s experiences and those that I was building for Marco. But what amazed me is that, at its core, very little has changed with regards to the institutionalization of homophobia within American football – be it, high school, college or pro.
We like to think “It gets better …” but in reality, has it? There are emerging stories about players in high school and college football that have appeared in OutSports where the players have come out to their teammates. In the cases that have been reported the response has been rather positive. Yet, we only have to bring up what happened to Michael Sam to understand that very little has changed with regard to players who hope to play openly and valued for their sportsmanship and not for who they love.
Angels taught me a lot. Not just about my characters and their road to happiness, but also because as I explored Marco’s having to follow that “jock script” all boys are indoctrinated to follow (bag the girl and draw some blood out on the field) Marco goes through some fairly difficult moments in his teenage life. In his desire to play ball and be one of the guys, he’s opened himself up to a major downfall that he can’t see coming – mostly because of the pressure to perform both on and off the field. That pressure is enormous. Yet, there’s a boy that has captured Marco’s attention in a way that no one, boy or girl, ever has. He finds himself on an emotional pendulum – swinging wildly from the life everyone else thinks he should have (girlfriends or friends with bennies, followed by marriage and rugrats), and the life he wants for himself wrapped up in a boy who requires darkness and shadows to survive another hellish day of high school.
It’s a ride my own husband had to play.
Simply put, hiding hurts everyone involved. No one ultimately benefits from that arrangement, despite how much comfort it may bring teammates in thinking that everything is cool, the dude is solid, a man’s man. Marco’s journey changed long held positions and baggage I carried from jocks that tormented me in my own past. I began to understand the pressures boys like Marco – who hide from themselves just to play the game they love to play – are under. But I didn’t want that discussion in my works to be so one-sided.
My granddaughter is queer and I spend a great deal of time with her and her friends. Queerdom is a very different monster with her crew. Just the fact that they embrace the word “queer” has changed my perspective on a word that used to torment me. So I realized that while things may not have totally changed, I also remembered the stories posted in OutSports of players who have experienced support from within their team. So while there is a clique within the team from Mercy High in my stories, I also balanced it with boys who really wouldn’t care if Marco was with a boy. I needed to show that line that things are changing. Maybe not at lightening speeds, but change is coming.
I am not kidding myself in thinking it will change in college or pro-ball in the next five, ten or fifteen years. That may be a long time in coming, but come it will.
With the release of Angels of Mercy – Diary of a Quarterback Part I: King of Imperfections and Angels of Mercy – Diary of a Quarterback Part II: Prince of Mistakes, I wanted to explore Marco’s journey. To be honest, while I started the main Angels of Mercy series from Marco’s boyfriend Elliot’s point of view, the story was really Marco’s to tell. He gets the lion’s share of the series (three books out of the six total).
I am thankful that Marco exists. He’s made me understand my husband’s past so much more. And I am far more sympathetic to athletes who take that courageous step to emerge and live a life out and proud. Their stories will always hold my interest.
I often wonder what I would say to my younger tortured teenboy self that would give my younger self context to understand what those boys go through. Don’t know if it would’ve made a difference or not, but I am glad I’ve grown enough as a writer and a queer man to give them a bit more of a pass and a modicum of understanding that many of them may not feel free enough to live openly and use oppression to express their frustration.
That’s what Angels ultimately explores. Here’s hoping that the trend toward acceptance keeps moving in a positive direction. I look forward to the day when it simply won’t matter.
Until next time …
SA Collins Store (support the author directly)
Character creation has never really been an issue for me. Having played so many of them on the stage over my half-century of being on this planet, I have pulled upon so many threads of the people I’ve met and crossed paths with. My high school drama teacher taught me many things about the craft. But there was one he taught that has stuck more than any other.
The world will reveal itself to you if you just stop singing, stop dancing, stop talking and just … listen and observe.
Now, if you’ve caught me on the podcast I co-host, you know that my not talking is something of an issue. I love conversation and have little to no filter (yes, I recognize it’s a flaw – but I choose to run with it and hope others can keep up) when it comes into diving in on topics that crop up during the conversation. So it’s no small feat for me to stop, not make a sound, and listen.
Yet, there are moments in my past that it happened for me with very little input on my part. Magical people and events that would just trigger that stop all action and listen (and watch) what was going on around me. And I’ve always come away the richer for it.
In writing the Angels of Mercy series, I have two characters that appear secondary in the story (to the plotline – though, in truth they are very much first level characters for one reason only – I know them both. They exist not only on the page, but also in my books).
I knew them when I was in grade school through high school. La Presa Elementary right up through La Presa Junior High and then ending at Monte Vista High, before we all went our separate ways. When I crafted Angels of Mercy, I knew that my quiet unassuming gay boy, Elliot, would have only one real friend in school before he becomes involved with the love of his life, Marco Sforza. That guy is Greg Lettau. Greg is drawn from the guy I knew in school who I thought was incredibly brilliant and had the wickedest sense of humor. He was skinny as all fuck, pointdexterish in the extreme – horned rimmed glasses and gawkish looking as can be.
But here’s the thing: Greg was so honorable as a friend he’s stuck with me, in my mind, long after we went our own ways after high school graduation. The few times I’d spent at their house after school back in my youth provided me with more than enough fertile ground to plunder when I crafted my two snarky brothers as supporting characters for Elliot and Marco. The Lettau boys are solid guys. Obviously, I’ve not known what they’ve gotten up to since we parted ways so long ago, but the memory of who they were in my past had a profound effect on wanting to capture their spirit and their particular brand of living life that I knew I wanted to pay homage to them.
I know I run the risk of using their actual names in the work, but I think even though it may not be the kind of book either man would read, I think I’ve done right by them. Greg, after all, gets the girl of his dreams in the end. I wanted that for Greg, even back then. He will always be that quick witted, snarky guy with a heart of gold. The banter he had with his brother I recalled was epic. I’ve only barely scratched the surface with them – as in this scene from my soon-to-be released Angels prequel: Angels of Mercy – Diary of a Quarterback Part One: King of Imperfections.
The first scene I had between the brothers had to be key in setting the tone for them. These were two guys who expressed their love by bagging the shit out of the other. The harder you bagged, the more love you expressed. It was unlike anything I’d ever witnessed before – completely foreign to how my world worked. And I remember loving the shit out of how they did it. They never missed a beat between them.
That is, until Greg gave me the greatest gift with his next words.
“Oh yeah. They live out on Oak Ridge Way out on the south-east part of town, up near the oak forest area – well, where the oaks and redwoods sorta mingle. Kinda the last house in town, if you know what I mean. You ever been out that way?” He eyed me for a second before turning the station on the TV to the science channel. This kid really was the quintessential geek.
I shook my head, “No, not really. Why?”
“Ah, well you just seemed the athletic type, being a jock and all.” He gave me a snarky roll of his eyes before continuing, “It’s fairly nice to hike up there sometimes. Hell, if I was half the friend to Elliot that I say I am, I should haul his ass up there for a bit. I know he could use the companionship. I sometimes worry ‘bout the guy, ya know?”
“Why? You think he’ll go all postal one day?”
“Nah, nothing like that. He’s to empathetic to go postal. He’d feel it way too much, ya know? But he’s definitely got a fairly lonely existence. Sometimes I’ve spotted him sitting out along the stands in the stadium – just drawing a bit in that sketchbook he carries around in his backpack while he eats his lunch. You know, way away from everyone. Serious loner stuff. And he’s a really great guy. I mean, I’m not going all gay for him, but he really is very smart and has a twisted as fuck sense of humor. I enjoy his company when we do get a chance to talk. I think he just is thankful that he has someone at school he can relate to a bit. I just can’t imagine how going to a school that holds nearly seven hundred kids and he’s only got pathetic me to chat up every now and then. Sad, really.”
“Maybe I should remedy that, then? I mean, if he’s as cool as you say he is.”
“Yeah, well, Elliot’s right on that score, bud. It’s one thing if the horn-rimmed math geek gets caught chatting him up from time to time. I mean, no one really pays any attention to math geeks unless its the jocks picking on ‘em because the gay kid ain’t around to bag on, ya know? For you, it’s a whole other thing. He’s right. It wouldn’t work out. Just the way it is.”
“Yeah, well, they don’t know dick about me.”
“Well, at the risk of pissing you the fuck off, it wouldn’t matter. This shit’s bigger than the both of us. Always has been, always will be. Ya know?”
I had to shrug at that. I knew the playbook about Jocks and inter-class social associations. The shrug was a requisite at this point if I was to maintain any credibility. Nothing but a pure acknowledgment of the rule book we both were playing by.
I had more than my fair share of intel on what I wanted on Elliot. Fuck me, when I thought on it, I’d hit the mother lode. I mean, now I knew where he lived. If it was where I thought it was, then I was in fucking hog heaven. I never drove out that way and I was kind of glad that the Impala I had back home wasn’t quite ready for her first run on the road since I’d rebuilt her engine. I still had a few things to fix on her before I got her that official armor of black paint to make her just as bad-assed as the Winchesters’ car on Supernatural. From the time I saw the first episode I was hooked and that car is what did it: full on classic muscle car. I could only hope Elliot would like riding around in it.
I looked at my watch; it was still early but I should head out anyway, didn’t want to over-stay my welcome. ‘Sides, I had an itch to scratch that had Elliot’s home address written all over it. I needed to get out there and see if I could sort out where he was. My heart was racing with just the prospect of seeing him this afternoon.
“Well, I better get going. I got some errands to run before I get home and hit the homework.”
“You leavin’ already?” Kevin asked as he came back from the kitchen. He had a grin on his face so evidently he was in tight with his latest conquest. And here I was, pining over the gay kid on campus.
How fucking upside down is that?
“Yeah, I think I better. I got some shit I gotta take care of.”
“Don’tcha mean, someone to take care of?” Kevin snickered and suggestively mirrored his younger brother’s salacious expression a few moments earlier.
Brothers, I got it, more than they knew.
“Jesus, Kevin, give it a break. Not everyone in this world thinks with his dick like you do,” Greg moaned.
“We’re teenaged men, dip-shit. Even you think with that pencil sized piece you’re packin’ ,” Kevin retorted.
“Still a heap bigger than the thimble-sized chubby you try to force on your latest conquest,” Greg volleyed right back.
“Really, guys? Is this gonna end with each of you marking your territories by pissing here?” I countered to the both of them.
They both looked stunned that I’d insert myself with this very familiar form of brotherly love.
“‘Sides, I’m the one with the monster cock in this room so I got you both trumped,” I said as I started to walk towards the front door.
“Yeah, right,” Greg huffed as he slipped back down onto the sofa. I reached the door and Kevin took the knob from me and held door open.
“No. He’s right, lil’ brother. Even with both our cocks, this guy would still beat us.”
I stopped at the door and just wiggled my brows at them both. Kevin chortled a bit. Yeah, I knew he’d seen the python I got going because of the showers. Hell, even Beau stacked up short against the stallion.
“Fuck me,” Greg snorted. “How’s a geeky brother gonna get laid if we got Godzilla dick out there banging around?”
“Wait ’til Marco roars. Then you’ll see ‘em run. That’s when we bag ‘em, lil’ brother.” We fist bumped as I ducked out hearing Kevin laugh as he started to shut the door.
I just waved a hand without looking back as I got to the family Audi. I had a certain someone I needed to find: a certain boy who had my heart, a certain boy who I was more determined than ever to find my way into his arms. And I knew, I just knew, that I’d gained an invaluable ally in Greg Lettau. He was my key. I only had to find a way to get him to help me out. But I’d get to that later. I had more pressing matters on my mind just now.
Yet, that love they had for one another had to shine through, as evidenced when Greg moves off to grab his jacket and Kevin has a moment to speak with his teammate Marco giving Greg some Jock attention. Although, even in that, Kevin is clear that Greg can never know how he truly feels about it.
“What I said was that there was an opportunity to redeem yourself tonight. A few of us are going to the Hut for some pizza. You should come along. Make up for your serious fuck-up this afternoon.”
I scratched the back of my head considering it. I did have some homework to do, but it was a Thursday night. I guess it would keep until the weekend. I looked at Greg for a moment. His eyes kept conveying to me I had no way out on this one.
“Who’s all gonna be there?”
Kevin shrugged, “Beau, Willem and Mack and their latest squeezes, I guess. Fuck all if I know. I just know the guys specifically asked that you come along for dinner at the Hut.”
“How’d they know I’d be here?” I thought it was a valid question. It seemed to irritate Kevin a bit though.
“I don’t know. Maybe because they’ve seen you becoming besties with Greg here.”
Fuck, now I had the geek kid rep to deal with.
“On one condition.”
Kevin stitched his brow, unsure of what was going to come out of my mouth next.
“I want Greg to ride shotgun.”
Greg looked like he was about to shit a brick over that one. “What? Hey, you can leave me outta this …”
Kevin chuckled, “It would be a bit odd to bring my kid brother along. Might make it a bit awkward for him, too. ‘Sides, I get enough of his lip as it is …”
“Not an option,” I dug my heels in.
“Dude …” was all Greg said as he sighed and shook his head. I didn’t care. I needed an ally if I was going to walk into dealing with that suspicious crew.
I collapsed on the sofa between them both. “Sorry, bro.” I mumbled.
Kevin quirked an eyebrow at that. “You two want to get a room or something? I mean, don’t let me stop you from your budding bromance.”
Greg blushed a bit harder than I thought he needed to. Evidently, he was a bit sensitive about the whole being thought of as a fag thing. But I guess when you weren’t a jock, then you might have cause to be a bit sensitive about it. I observed Greg’s eyes darting to me to gauge my reaction. I didn’t have any, not really. I wasn’t one to harbor weird shit like oh don’t say that, it offends me …
Playing football or hell, any team sport, tended to thicken your skin pretty damned quick or you were out on your ass. Tom Hanks said it best, even if the quote was about baseball: There’s no crying, none. Well, maybe if you lost an important game, but even then you cried your ass off silently, under the shower where no one else could see. I knew the drill. A little bromance joke would accomplish nothing to get under my skin. Only Greg couldn’t leave a line like that dangling without a proper sibling response though.
“Well, at least I’m smart enough not to go out with the likes of you. Speaking of which, how’s things with Suzy, lately?”
Kevin’s smirk faded quickly. His gaze became far more pointed. I still didn’t know what Greg had done but whatever it was, it had to’ve been big.
“Whatever, little brother.”
“Uh-huh, that’s what I thought.”
I looked at my watch: five fifteen. “So what time are we supposed to be there?” I looked over at Kevin.
He shrugged, “I guess around six or so. No one really said.”
I chuckled, “Yeah, that figures.”
I spared a beat while we all watched Guy Fieri chow down on a sandwich that looked like it would guarantee a heart attack just by inhaling the fumes let alone macking down on it like there was no tomorrow. I slapped Kevin’s leg as I pushed off the sofa.
“Well, I’m gonna go home and get sorted. Meet ya there?”
I turned to Greg, “Wanna tag along?”
Greg’s eyes darted to his brother’s – a beat.
“I’m thinking of taking the Impala out for her maiden run.”
Greg face lit up with that. I’d been telling him about it from time to time so he was eager to see what I’d done so far. I already sensed that Greg had a hard-on for the muscle car I was working on. The fact that I’d even suggested that he could ride shotgun on her maiden ride seemed to put him to the edge of cumming all over himself.
I nodded, “Yeah, no time like the present, right?”
“Right on …” He got up and made his way down the hall to his room. “Give me a sec to grab a jacket.”
After he’d disappeared Kevin watched me with a greater interest.
“Greg. I bag on his ass a lot but, and I’ll kick your ass if you ever say that I told you this, but I love the little douchebag. It’s sorta cool you giving him some attention. It wouldn’t mean half as much if it came from me. Big brother n’ all.”
I stretched, then shrugged, “Nah, it’s cool. He’s a great guy. But dude, I so gotta do something about pulling him outta his math geek shell. Dude will never get laid if he keeps going the way he’s goin’.”
Kevin chuckled a bit loudly at that as Greg emerged from the hallway.
“What’d I miss?”
“Eh, it’s nothin’,” Kevin offered, a smirk still coloring his face. I couldn’t help but smile the tiniest bit as well.
Greg stopped dead in his tracks.
“Okay, what the fuck? Out with it. Somebody said something about me and now you both are grinnin’ like you just put one over on me. So what gives?”
I shook my head and approached Greg. I put a hand on his shoulder and started to guide him out the front door.
“It’s nothing, bro. Let’s get a move on before the team has another whine session about my blowin’ them off. Say good-bye, Kevin.”
Kevin shook his head and grabbed the remote from where Greg had unceremoniously dumped it. “Good-bye, Kevin…” he snorted at the two of us making our way out the door.
“Whatever, bro. You both are acting weird,” Greg murmured as I guided him out to the family Audi sitting in front of their house.
Greg could be like a pit-bull with a thought. As soon as he closed the door to the car he was on me with it. “So what did that fucktard of a brother really say?”
I chuckled, “That really does get into your shit, doesn’t it?”
“What? Kevin? You have no idea.”
He shook his head as he put on his seatbelt.
But it was more than just how they bagged on one another. You had to feel the thread of love that ran through it all. For that I had to stop, close my eyes and shut out the world and just listen to those moments I spent in their house, listening and observing them being themselves.
Greg told me that he was making a bit of progress with Elliot regarding the jocks on campus. I asked him to work on getting Elliot talked into going out for the tennis team like I’d overheard that one morning. That proved to be a little tougher to work out. Elliot seemed open to the idea of playing. He told Greg he would get into that part of it, even enjoy the tournaments he’d have to go to. All of that seemed okay. Only one thing he couldn’t get around.
“Being a jock. That’s what he can’t wrap his head around,” Greg admitted to me at one of my after school visits at his place.
He seemed particularly worried about how I took that update. I had to admit, it didn’t suit my fancy too much.
“Does that mean he’s not going to do it?”
Without directly answering, Greg flipped to one of the food networks where we watched some blonde chef boozing it up while throwing some cans of soup on a chicken breast and calling it cooking.
“What I want to know is, why is it so important that he go out for the team?”
“Uh, jock? Something in common between us? Any of this ringing a bell for ya?”
“Yeah, okay. I getcha there. I thought of it, too, ya know. But I dunno, Marco. Elliot’s got a weird streak when it comes to guys like you. And before you go off half-cocked, you gotta realize he’s been harassed and belittled for several years now by guys who became jocks. It’s a learned response. He sees the danger and rightly goes the other way. It’s how he’s survived. Of course he’s gonna rail against becoming one of you, even if it’s a game he really likes to play. It still involves becoming one. He’s having a real hard time getting around that.”
I sighed, running my hands down my face.
“Forget it. This whole thing is bat-shit crazy” I got up and began to pace around the living room.
“What’s bat-shit crazy?” Kevin walked in through the front door. “Dude, where the fuck were you?”
Confused, I looked around me, “Uh, I think that’s fairly obvious. Been here, pencil-dick.”
Greg snorted at that one.
“Yeah, I see, but you were supposed to be down at the cliffs with the guys, asswipe. We missed you out there. You know – some quality bud time? And I find you here, holed up with my geeky kid brother.”
“Wow, fucktard, way to feel the brotherly love…” Greg deadpanned.
“No, not like that, dick scum. I mean that Marco knows what team building is like. We do some social stuff together, too. This was one of our days to blow off some steam and he wasn’t anywhere to be found. So not cool, Sforza. So …” he plopped his massive frame down on the sofa and grabbed the bag of chips Greg had thrown on the table between us, “…what the fuck, bro? How does my brother rate when your teammates are having a rather illegal kegger out along the cliffs?”
“Oh yeah, that’s a great place to serve alcohol illegally to a bunch of dumb jocks. Let’s give guys who are hormonely challenged and mentally deprived and have them imbibe along a precipice that’s only a hundred forty feet above the ocean. Yeah, sign me the fuck up. Fuckin’ YouTube heaven, that shit is,” Greg tossed out.
“We are not a bunch of dumb jocks,” Kevin groused leaning in toward his brother to press his point.
“I’ve seen your grades; your position in this debate is questionable.”
He grabbed the chips from his elder brother. I sat back down and watch the sibling rivalry play out, thankfully obscuring my social faux pas. Kevin had the right of it though. I should’ve been out with the guys. Only this whole Elliot thing really did a number on me. Even while I listened to Kevin and Greg verbally pound on each other, a small sense of gratitude moved through me that I had a bit of time to sort out my shit. It did give me some concern that I hadn’t handled all of this with any degree of grace. I needed to get my game face on.
It’s moments like that I tried like hell to capture about these two remarkable boys from my past. Vibrant young men, each of them comfortable in their skin, but they never made me feel less because I was the queer kid. It all just … was. So how do I not run the risk of pissing them the fuck off? Mostly because I did change up quite a few elements about them for the work. My Greg and Kevin Lettau are not the actual Lettaus by a long shot. There are very similar threads, but by and large they are of my own making. As I said, an homage to who they were/are from my youth.
So Greg, don’t know what you’re up to. Don’t know where life has taken you and how it’s all panned out for you, but just know, that some small thread of you, some essence I observed and committed to memory, lives on and bears your name. It’s not you. It was never intended to be you. It was simply my way of acknowledging to the world what great guy I thought you were back then. No page can truly capture your dry wit, and plucky bon monts. That part is wholly you. I’m just winking in your direction and saying, “Thanks, for all of it.”
Until next time …
– SA C