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    Mark Arbour
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

Poor Man's Son - 25. Chapter 24

July 25, 2000

Rome, Italy

Will

 

Gathan and Kristin must have jumped all over Darius and Ella, because they were pretty nice to me on the flight to Rome. I was pissed off at them for selling me down the river so quickly, but I decided to let it go. I’d make them pay by annoying them when we were in Rome, in the way that little brothers are so good at. We were all pretty quiet on the flight, and didn’t really get animated until we landed.

We each had our own security guard, and they met us and introduced themselves at the airport. My guy was named Don, and he had to be at least 35 years old. I disliked him immediately. He’d started off by directing me into the limo. He was the kind of guy who would try to run my life. I didn’t need a babysitter.

“My guard seems cool,” Ella said. She had a lady, appropriately enough. She was younger and attractive, attractive enough to catch a surreptitious look from Darius.

“Darius thinks she’s hot,” I said, trying to stir up trouble. Ella looked at him, and he glared at me. I was pretty pleased with myself.

“Your guy seems fine,” Ella said to Darius. His guy seemed pretty laid back, and he spent most of his time staring at Ella’s guard.

“Mine doesn’t,” I groused. Stef gave me a dirty look. “You want to trade with me?” I challenged him.

Grand chuckled. “We will see what we can do,” Stef said.

“Can I request someone under 25, who doesn’t look like he’s in the mob,” I said, being bitchy. That made Grand chuckle some more. Darius would have laughed too, but he was still pissed off at me.

“You are being high maintenance,” Stef scolded.

“Because I don’t want Tony Soprano following me all over Rome?” I asked. They recognized that I was in my trouble-making mood, and wisely left me alone.

We were staying at the Westin, in their premiere suite, the Villa la Cupola. There was a large dome sticking out of the corner of the hotel, so I figured that must be it, and that must be the cupola. It sure looked cool from the outside. We pulled up and bellmen descended on us. “Can I take your bag?” a voice said, causing me to turn abruptly.

After dealing with my obnoxious guard, I wasn’t quite ready for the guy I was facing: this dude was smoking hot. He was about six feet tall, with a well-formed but lanky body. He had classic Italian looks, with dark brown hair, olive skin, a large nose, and a big Adam’s apple. Then there were the eyes, olive-green eyes. According to his nametag, his name was Roberto. I realized that I was just standing there, staring at him, and that made me blush. He picked up on my embarrassment and grinned slightly, which made me blush even more. This guy looked so good; he probably dealt with this all the time. “Sure,” I said in the end, handing him my backpack, even though I usually kept it with me. I was glad Darius was preoccupied, or he would have given me a bad time for my total lack of any game at all.

I turned away to find Stef smirking at me. “He is quite handsome.” He raised an eyebrow. He was almost as bad as Darius.

“Yes, he is,” I agreed grumpily, but he kept looking at me, smiling, and tilted his head. “Alright, he’s smoking hot. Is that what you wanted to hear?”

“I like validation,” he said simply, cracking me up. That was the thing about Stef; he was usually really good at eradicating my bad moods.

I figured that the suite would be nice, but it was breathtaking. We walked into a grand foyer. Off to the right was the master bedroom, while straight ahead was a study, a dining room, and a living room. It was the living room that was incredible, and it was the reason for the name. It was this tall, domed room with fresco paintings on the ceiling. We were on the corner, with spectacular views of Rome from the terraces on both sides. This place had everything.

“The Cupola room is the best feature of this suite,” the concierge said. She seemed like a really nice lady. “Let me show you the second-best part.” She led us into an elevator, and took us up to the next floor. There was a whole, private spa for our use: Another big terrace with spectacular views, and a hot tub, steam room, sauna, and work out area, just for us. And to top it all off, there was a theater room adjacent to the steam room, complete with Dolby surround sound.

“This is kick ass,” I said, turning the stereo on. I got frowns when I turned it up too loud.

“Dude, check out all these movies,” Darius said, looking through the library of DVDs. They had all kinds of stuff, although it was pretty pedestrian for us, since we usually got to see movies when they were released, or if Robbie was involved in them we got to see them before that.

We went out and checked out the hot tub, with its own little room that could be opened up so it was practically outside. Darius reached down and felt the warm water. “This is really nice.” He leered at Ella.

“How often do they change the water in the hot tub?” I asked, just to piss off Darius. It worked. He glared at me while the concierge went into a lengthy and detailed discussion of the hot tub’s sanitation. I was thoroughly enjoying myself.

We went back downstairs to find our bags arriving. There was my Italian god, waiting for me, holding my backpack. “Here,” I said, reaching for it.

“I can put it in your room for you,” he said in a friendly way. I forced my shyness to recede and got into a more playful mood.

“Your English is very good,” I said, complimenting him.

“We learn it in school,” he said. “I get much practice here as well.” I’ll bet you do, I thought mischievously, but that was a mistake, because I distracted myself, and ended up staring at him again.

“So which room is yours?” he prompted, embarrassing the crap out of me and making me blush again.

“I thought we were talking about languages,” I said, trying to play it off. “I don’t know which room is mine yet. Help me pick the best one,” I said. Darius and Ella were still dinging around outside, so I’d beat them to the punch this way, yet another way to annoy them.

He grinned, and that just turned up the wattage on his looks, as if that were possible. “This one,” he said, leading me to the third guest bedroom. “It is the biggest room with its own terrace.” He threw open the door and led me into this opulent sanctuary that would be my home for the next few days.

“Good choice,” I said. He put my backpack down, and then went to fetch my other suitcase. While he was gone, my guard breezed in and surveyed my room.

“I will be close by. If you need to go out, you can just call this number on your phone,” he said. He was about to go on when Roberto returned. “Put the bags there,” he said, pointing at a spot near the closet, “then you can leave.” There was no way this guy was going to jump in and run my life, and there was no way he was going to run this hot guy out of my room before I got to hit on him a little bit. I had to put my foot down now.

“No, he is going to put the bag down and show me the features of this room. You are the one who is leaving,” I said firmly. He stared at me, about to argue, but my look cut him short. He didn’t move until I pointed to the door.

“You are going to get me in trouble,” Roberto said nervously.

“Probably,” I told him. “But I can get you out of it too. I’m magical.”

He laughed. “You are a fairy?” I didn’t know if he was going for a double entendre or what, but he caught the change in my expression. “Did I say something wrong?”

“Calling someone a fairy in the US can have different meanings,” I said. “Don’t worry about it.”

“You will explain it to me?”

“Later.” I held out my hand. “I’m Will.”

“Berto,” he said as he shook my hand.

“How old are you?” I asked, ignoring the fact that we were still shaking hands.

“I will be 17 in November,” he said.

“I’m almost 14,” I told him. He nodded and grinned again. His grin reminded me of Robbie’s. He seemed to remember that we were still shaking hands.

“Let me show you your room,” he said, getting nervous. He took me through the various parts, showing me how to hook up to the internet, showing me how to adjust the temperature, and showing me how to operate the quirky faucets in the bathroom. “Is there anything else you would like to see?”

You, naked, I thought playfully. I leered at him and raised my eyebrows, making him blush, which cracked me up. We both laughed at that. I couldn’t tell if he was into guys or if he was just a flirt. I figured that Italians were just like Frenchmen in that regard, especially guys as hot as this one. “Rome,” I told him impulsively.

“I do not understand,” he said.

“I’m here by myself,” I told him. “I don’t want to explore the city alone.”

“What about the others?”

“They’re couples. I’m the odd man out. You seem like a fun guy. I’d like to see Rome with someone who knows it.”

“I am not sure if I am allowed to do that,” he said nervously.

“I understand. I’m sorry I put you on the spot,” I said hastily. I didn’t mean to back him into a corner. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

“No, I want to. I think it would be fun,” he said just as quickly, quickly to let me know that he was sincere, and he really did want to see the city with me. “I just do not know if that is allowed.”

“I’ll bet it is,” I said, winking at him. Having a family with all of this power and money came with a lot of baggage, but there were some definite benefits. Commandeering a bellboy to be a guide shouldn’t be too difficult. “Come on.” I led him out to the Cupola where Stef and the Concierge were talking.

“I see you have already irritated your guard,” Stef said to me, sounding irritated himself.

“I want Berto to show me around the city while I’m here,” I said, ignoring him. “Is that alright? He’s kind of a pussy, but he could double as my guard.” I could tell that Stef definitely didn’t like that idea, but I also could tell that I’d probably get my way on this one, even if it did take a protracted battle.

“What is this, ‘pussy’?” Berto asked.

“It’s a wimpy guy with no muscles who gets his butt kicked all the time,” I said, as I reached over and squeezed his considerable bicep. He frowned, and that made me and Stef both laugh.

“If it does not disrupt the operations of your hotel, would you be willing to oblige my grandson?” Stef asked the concierge for me. “We can compensate Berto directly.”

She looked at Berto, who nodded, then turned back to Stef. “Of course, Mr. Schluter. We are happy to oblige. Berto, I will need you for a few minutes, and then you can return to the suite.” They left then, with Stefan smiling at me.

“He’s hot,” I said simply.

“I think you are perhaps understating his beauty. Perhaps he would like to be my guide as well?” I loved Stef when he was in his fun and playful mood.

“Bullshit,” I said. “Find your own hot Italian guy.”

“Not a bad idea,” he said. “I have found Italian men to be among the most passionate I have encountered.” Now that was saying something.

“I’m getting him into the hot tub for sure,” I joked.

“I am not sure he is qualified to be your guard,” Stef admonished.

“We’re here in Italy,” I reasoned. “I don’t think Robbie and Dad have pissed anyone off in this country yet. He seems like a tough enough guy. Can we give it a try?”

“When he returns, I will have the other guards spend some time interviewing him. If they think he may serve, they can brief him. After I decide,” he said, emphasizing that it was his call, “I will talk to him and figure out how much to pay him.”

“Thanks Stef,” I said, hugging him. “Be generous.”

I’d left them all alone and spent time in my room, unpacking and getting things organized. I was just setting up my PS2 when there was a knock at the door. “Come in,” I called.

Stef entered, followed by a dazed Berto. “We have worked out the arrangements and have set up Berto in the room next to yours. We have the space, so why make him commute?” Stef said.

“Cool,” I said. “Give me just a minute.” I finished connecting a few wires, and then gave them my full attention. Berto was standing there in his uniform, looking like he was on a military parade ground. “Dude, you cannot dress like that when we go out,” I said to him. He laughed.

“You are correct,” Stef said with his scheming look.

“Oh no you don’t,” I objected. “We’re not going shopping.”

“You would deprive me of the opportunity to work with such an amazing specimen?” he demanded. Berto looked at us both, confused.

“We’ll see,” I consented. “You want to go home and get some stuff?” I asked him. “I’ll be here killing people,” I said, gesturing at the game controller.

“I will come back and help you,” he said. Stef gave him a key, and he took off.

“You have good taste. He is a nice young man.”

“He’s probably straight,” I said morosely. Stef smiled. “What?”

“I do not know if he is or not,” he said.

“What are you thinking?” I asked him and stood up to stare at him to emphasize that I was dead serious. There are times when it was really important to know when another guy was gay or not. This was one of those times.

“You need to work on your gaydar,” he chided. “Cody can coach you.”

“Yeah, fine, I’ll do that. Now tell me,” I said, my patience at an end.

“I would say that he is at least interested in you from the way that he looks at you, and from how eager he was to spend time with you,” Stef said. “He refused to take any money for spending time escorting you around the city.”

“What? You’re going to pay him anyway, aren’t you?”

“Of course,” Stef answered. “It just took a lot of argument, but I am learning that is par for the course when dealing with teenagers.”

“Ha ha ha,” I said, deadpan.

“The people here at the hotel speak very highly of him. He comes from a good family here in Rome. You can go out with him, but you must carry your phone with you at all times.”

“I think I’ve proven I’m reliable with phones,” I joked.

“Yes, you have,” he said, and then left me alone. Alone to think about my hot new guide.

 

July 25, 2000

Somewhere over Pennsylvania

Gathan

“We’ll be landing soon,” Brad said, nudging me awake. I felt the plane descending as I pulled myself out of a deep sleep. After the nightmare with the Concorde, I was amazed that I was as calm as I was when we were flying.

“Got it,” I said, and woke Kristin up. She immediately went to the bathroom to primp up her appearance. I went up and sat with Robbie.

“I hope you don’t mind us just dropping you off,” Robbie said. “We need to get to Paly.”

“I understand,” I said. I looked at him with concern. He looked really frazzled. He’d been really beside himself the last few days, but the whole ordeal today seemed to set him into a tailspin. “I’m worried about you. You going to be OK?”

“I’ll be alright,” he said dubiously.

“Is there anything I can do?” I asked in a slutty voice. He rolled his eyes at me. “Seriously, you sure you’ll be alright?”

“He’ll be fine,” Brad said as he rejoined us, and sat on his lap playfully. “He forgets that despite all of the shit we went through, he still has a guy that is totally in love with him.” It was so cool to see Brad let his guard down like this and put aside his businessman persona.

“I never forget that. Never,” Robbie said meaningfully.

“Good,” Brad said. His demeanor was playful, but there was genuine concern there. Still, Brad had a confidence about him that was reassuring. It was like he’d been down this road with Robbie before, he knew just how to handle it, and there was no question that Robbie would come out of it just fine. He turned back to me. “He’s a little high-strung, but he’s worth it.”

“Funny,” Robbie said. They were so good together. It was awesome how their strengths complemented each other’s weaknesses so well. I thought about Kristin and decided that people could probably say the same thing about us.

“Can I talk to the pilots?” I asked, getting task-oriented. “I need to get a car to take us home.”

“I think Stef has already handled that,” Brad said with a grin. He handed me a present: a box about one foot square, all wrapped up in pretty paper that said ‘Happy Birthday’. There was a big green bow on top.

“A present?” Kristin asked, joining us. “Who is that from?”

“Stefan,” I said. John came up and hung out too. He’d been pretty aloof on the flight back. I figured he was probably pissed at me, but I’d been through enough today without dealing with his issues. Besides, I didn’t want to get into his problems with Will. Will and I were close, and I was loyal, so I knew I’d end up taking Will’s side of things. I put those concerns aside, and decided that I’d make sure John and I were cool when I got out to Cali.

“Open it,” she prompted impatiently.

I tore open the box and found a card, and a set of keys. They were car keys, with the Chevy logo on them. “He got me a car?” I asked, incredulous.

“Maybe they’re just keys,” Robbie said, giving me shit.

“Stef likes to buy people cars,” Brad said nonchalantly. “He’s kind of like Elvis.” I looked at him blankly. “Elvis Presley, the King of Rock and Roll,” he augmented with frustration. “He used to buy people cars too.”

“What was that, in the ’50s? Damn you’re old,” I teased. Robbie did that snaugh thing that all of us Hayes boys did.

“Fuck you. Just read the card.”

I opened it up and found a note. “Stef wrote it himself,” I said, recognizing his handwriting. It was neat and elegant, just like him.

Dear Gathan,

You will need something more reliable to traverse the country to California. I know that you truck men are brand loyal, but I have relied on JP’s advice and gotten you a Chevy instead of a Dodge. He is biased, since he has always preferred General Motors vehicles, but this is a new model, so he was convincing. I hope that you like it, but if not, we can find you something you prefer.

When you are driving and enjoying your new vehicle, I hope you will think of us, and know that we love you.

Stef and JP.

 

I noticed that JP had signed the card himself, with a different colored pen. “It’s from both of them,” I said, handing the note to Kristin. It was a really extravagant present, and the emotions behind it were even more meaningful. I wiped the tears from my eyes, wondering at what an emotional wreck I’d been the past day. “That was a really nice present.”

“You don’t even know what he bought you, yet,” Robbie said, smiling.

“I don’t really give a shit,” I told him. “Didn’t anyone ever teach you it’s the thought that counts?”

“Plus, Stef never buys shitty presents,” Brad said. “It’s a good bet it’s one nice Chevy.” Stef said it was a new model, so we all sat there and searched our brains for which Chevy had been completely revamped in the last year. We all drew blanks.

“So what’s that part about guys liking one brand of truck?” Kristin asked. I was kind of surprised she didn’t know that, but then again, the guys she ran with usually drove Mercedes or BMWs. I didn’t remember any of them driving a truck.

“Some guys are really into Chevys, or Dodges, or whatever,” I said. “It’s all they’ll drive. I could care less. The only reason I had the Dodge is that I got a good deal on it, and Brent said he could help me fix it up.”

“So what will you do with your old truck?” Robbie asked.

“I’ll give it to Brent. He did most of the labor on it anyway.” He just nodded. I wonder if he was planning to do something for those guys. I shrugged that off. It wasn’t my problem. I wasn’t really part of that family anymore, I thought sadly, at least not in the way that I used to be.

“I didn’t want to get you guys anything big like cars or stuff until you were out of high school,” Robbie said, answering my internal question. “I don’t think Wally and Clara would appreciate it.”

“That’s probably true,” I agreed. “My brothers will appreciate it, though. It’s one hell of a graduation present.” I’d excluded Ella from that reference. I figured they’d find something for her to drive when she got to Paly, but if not, I’d buy her a car. I kept forgetting that I had shitloads of money.

I felt the wheels touch down and looked outside frantically, trying to find my new car. Robbie and Brad chuckled at me. It wasn’t until the plane stopped and the chocks were behind the wheels that I got my first view of it. I had just walked out of the plane and into the July Ohio heat when the guys from the terminal drove it up to the plane: a red Chevrolet Tahoe LT, with some really tricked out wheels. “Holy shit!”

“Nice truck,” Kristin said, putting her arm around me.

“Nice truck? Nice? Are you kidding me? This thing is the bomb.”

Brad and Robbie laughed. “I’ll tell Stef you liked it,” Brad said. They gave us hugs, and then Kristin and I hopped in my new, kick-ass Tahoe. I drove to the parking lot and stopped to check out the features, like the nice leather seats and power fucking everything.

“Let’s go,” she said impatiently.

“I have to adjust the mirrors,” I said.

“I want to get home,” she said. It was understandable that she missed her family. It was sad that I didn’t.

“Fine,” I said. “You know, you’re so anxious to get home, but that just means you’ll have to go home at night instead of spending it with me. I think you’re happy to get rid of me.”

“Don’t be so sure about that,” she said mysteriously.

 

 

 

Copyright © 2011 Mark Arbour; All Rights Reserved.
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

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Chapter Comments

Tease! The intro to Berto was way too concise without enough details.

 

The hotel is over-the-top nice and elegant. It probably rents for $65k per week or more depending on the season. Of course July in Rome is not the high season.

 

Gathan got his new red truck and still has Kristen.

 

At this rate, PMS will be 95 fairly short chapters long.

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You are going to be on Tim's shit list (can I say shit?) for calling the Excelsior, the "Westin".

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On 07/05/2011 04:36 AM, Daddydavek said:
Tease! The intro to Berto was way too concise without enough details.

 

The hotel is over-the-top nice and elegant. It probably rents for $65k per week or more depending on the season. Of course July in Rome is not the high season.

 

Gathan got his new red truck and still has Kristen.

 

At this rate, PMS will be 95 fairly short chapters long.

Concise descriptions let your imagination fill in the blanks. Go ahead..let it run wild. You know you want to. ;-)
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On 07/05/2011 08:12 AM, Tommy_B said:
You are going to be on Tim's shit list (can I say shit?) for calling the Excelsior, the "Westin".
You can say "shit", you just can't say "f**k." That might be offensive (insert idiotic emoticon). Tim will appreciate the forces of capitalism that result when massive corporations swallow up icons and their identities. ;-)
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Daddy, I'm assuming that the story will hit somewhere around 50 chapters...with the final arc being set around the Election of 2000. Bush's inauguration on January 20th, 2001 feels like a logical endpoint for this story.

 

 

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Ha Tom is right, it absolutely grates on me when people call the Moana, "the Westin", the St. Francis, "the Westin" and the Excelsior, "the Westin" or when any classic old hotel is bought by a chain and they change or corrupt the name.

 

This Berto could be interesting. I wonder how you are going to get him to Los Angeles? Maybe his uncle or cousin who owns an Italian restaurant in Santa Monica?

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On 07/06/2011 04:46 AM, PrivateTim said:
Ha Tom is right, it absolutely grates on me when people call the Moana, "the Westin", the St. Francis, "the Westin" and the Excelsior, "the Westin" or when any classic old hotel is bought by a chain and they change or corrupt the name.

 

This Berto could be interesting. I wonder how you are going to get him to Los Angeles? Maybe his uncle or cousin who owns an Italian restaurant in Santa Monica?

I hadn't really thought of that whole restaurant connection. Interesting.
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On 07/05/2011 02:52 PM, methodwriter85 said:
Daddy, I'm assuming that the story will hit somewhere around 50 chapters...with the final arc being set around the Election of 2000. Bush's inauguration on January 20th, 2001 feels like a logical endpoint for this story.

 

Really? I'm not sure about that.
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Gathan is going to have a blast in the new truck, and his cousin will appreciate the gift of his truck to him. Kristen is going to have to play this right or her parents are going to be all up in her and Gathan's business...

 

Damn, Will did not take long to get over John or Gathan... I guess when in Rome find an Italian to show you the place and play with...

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Gathan got a brand new truck and Brad has a busted gaydar I wonder what we're going to see from Will and his new bodyguard he's really cute and they don't know if he's gay or straight.

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As usual. Mark, you show a creative mind as an author. The trip to Rome opens up a plethora of new possibilities in story line and a new character being added just doubles the opportunities for creativity.
Many of the comments you see about your stories are a number of years old, but occasionally a recent one shows that the CAP story line is still attracting readers, some new, but many reading again and again. Repeating readers mean to me that the work is a true classic. Yes, there are a few slow spots, but those are necessary for contrast with the continuing sense of history with which you imbue your work. As an old school teacher, I am most impressed with the perfection you show in grammar, some of that may be the responsibility of your editor, but I am sure most of it comes from your own command of the language. Congratulations and best wishes healthwise from a (mostly) silent reader.
Mister Will.

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On 7/4/2011 at 3:12 PM, Tommy_B said:

You are going to be on Tim's shit list (can I say shit?) for calling the Excelsior, the "Westin".

Thanks, I've decided I like the Hotel Hassler better anyway,

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