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    CarlHoliday
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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. 

319 Winesap Lane - 13. Chapter 13 - Two Bullets

Jerry’s POV

My trip with Geoff down to New York City was an adventure I’d rather not experience ever again. I helped with the driving on the Thruway, but he took over at the rest area at Sloatsburg and drove into The City. The hotel we stayed at was up near Columbia University, but that wasn’t the interesting thing about the place.

Although it was nearly midnight when we arrived, the valet took the car and put it in the adjacent garage. We took our luggage, such as it was, up to the front door, which was opened by the doorman.

“Good evening, Dr. Johnson,” the man said. “An unexpected visit?”

“Yes, Diego, a most unexpected visit. This is my protégé, Jerrold.”

“A most becoming young man. Is he a student at Warnton?”

“Yes,” Geoff said and slipped Diego a twenty.

With that we went in and the bell captain took our luggage. I followed Geoff up to the front desk and looked around the lobby. I can only describe it as overly done in teak, leather, and red plush. If I had to say what it reminded me of I would have to say a whorehouse came to mind; and, strangely, I felt like I was the whore.

Our suite was on the fourth floor. Few words passed between Geoff and the bellman, but I did see Geoff give him a fifty before he left.

“What is this place?” I asked.

“It’s a gentlemen’s hotel. It has a rather select clientele, mostly older men such as myself who have money and need a place in The City where they can comfortably bed a young man such as yourself. They have a small informal eatery on the first floor mostly for breakfasts and lunch, as their clientele will usually dine on the town.”

“I notice there’s only one bed.”

“Yes, and I believe you’ll find an excellent selection of condoms and lube in the nightstand.”

I was dumbfounded and didn’t know what to say. In so many words, Geoff had just said he intended to, at the very least, make love to me.

“Don’t worry, we’re not having sex,” he said. “Same rules apply here as in Warnton.”

“You know you can have me if you desire.”

“Not going to happen. You’re too special to me to fuck like a common hustler. Besides, didn’t you say you want me to adopt you? How can we have sex if I’m your father?”

“But, other men do bring younger men here.”

“Certainly or they arrive later. This is a discrete establishment. You pay a hefty tariff and you are assured discretion up to a point. If I walked in here with Erik, there might have been questions at the front desk. I might have had to sign a document attributing to the validity of my relationship with Erik.”

“In other words they don’t cater to pedophiles.”

“Correct. Do you wish to talk more or can we get some sleep?”

“Sleep sounds good to me,” I said as I started undressing.

Geoff went over to the windows and closed the draperies. He came back and gave me a lip-lock that was full of the lust neither of us would partake of for the rest of our lives.

“Just for the memories,” he said.

“Yours or mine?”

“Maybe both.”

“It must be hard on you knowing that if you hadn’t screwed up last spring you could very well be looking forward to a good all-around fuckfest tonight.”

“Yes, but I must put that behind me and work very hard in becoming Erik’s foster father and potential adoptive father. Plus, there’s that other boy down in Lyons that Bill Daniels wants to place in our house. I can’t be lusting over you and whatever other boys you bring to the house. Come on, let’s get ourselves to bed.”

“I love you.”

“I wish I could know what kind of love that is.”

“Erik and I have brotherly love toward each other, so that would mean I need love you as a parent.”

“Okay, I can go with that.”

I stripped down to my boxers and went into the bathroom to get cleaned up for bed. I thought of what it would mean if Geoff became my father. It would definitely mean no longer going back to Michigan. Could I do that to my family? But, what about the fact they hadn’t done hardly anything to get me admitted to Warnton? Also, they hadn’t provided any financial assistance even though they might have done so. I suppose it wouldn’t be so bad if they hadn’t given my older sister a full ride to Michigan State. Who was I, chipped beef?

I went out and crawled into the bed and snuggled up alongside Geoff. I said, “I’ve decided that it’s okay for you to adopt me.”

“It means giving up all those Michigan memories and what might have been,” Geoff said.

“I know about all of that. In the past couple weeks, you’ve been more of a father to me than that man back there who tried to raise me. It’s kind of like he thought I wasn’t his son. You know, like maybe my mother had an affair and I am the product of that illicit relationship.”

“Well, if you’re serious about this I’ll check with the lawyer I hired to represent Erik to see how it all works. I hope Erik is doing okay. I miss him.”

“Yeah, he’s a sweet kid. Well, goodnight, Dad.” I leaned over and gave Geoff a nice, familial kiss.

“You know, if I adopt you, you won’t be able to sleep with me ever again.”

“Okay, I can give it up, if you can.”

I draped my arm across his chest and rested my head on his shoulder. I knew he wasn’t going to be able to stop this, but since we were both adults, nothing was going to come of it except enduring love.

* * * *

The following morning, I got up with Geoff and went to breakfast with him, but he left me in the hotel to await his return from downtown. He told me Central Park was a couple blocks east and I could go over there and take a walk, but to be back at the hotel by noon. He arranged for me to have lunch there in case he was held up at wherever he was going.

“Are you ever going to tell me what’s going on?” I asked as we were going out the front door on the hotel.

“Nope.”

“Why?”

“Look, Jerry, I have money, a lot of money, and when you have money you have access to things that people without money don’t have access to. I have a problem with Dr. Tinsdale and I’ve arranged to have that problem taken care of. It’s going to cost me a lot of money, as well it should, but I expect I will not have any more problems with Dr. Tinsdale in the future.”

“What going to happen to him?”

“I have no idea and, frankly, I don’t really care about the specifics. I’m paying to have the problem corrected. How that occurs is up to the people who do the job.”

“It sounds to me like you’re involved with the Mafia.”

“Jerry, you will never say that word in my presence ever again. I deal with people who, for a fee, solve problems. I don’t know what their criminal associations are and I don’t want to know.”

A cab came and Geoff got in. It sped off and I turned down the sidewalk. Whatever was going on troubled me because if Geoff was getting involved with criminals, what would happen if they suddenly decided they wanted more money? Would they hold me hostage while Geoff went downtown to get it? This was more troubling than I wanted to consider.

It was at that moment that I decided it might be advantageous for me to pay more attention to what was going on around me. I’d heard of muggers in New York and suspected if I didn’t watch out one might get me. As I came up to Central Park West, I thought I saw the back of Clarence. When I was up next to him I looked over at him and he turned his head and smiled.

“Well, hello, my dear fellow; how are you today?” he asked in the only way Clarence could do.

“Fine.”

“What brings you to The City?”

“Geoff.”

“Ooh, you refer to him by his first name; that’s rather personal.”

“He’s going to adopt me.”

“Come, the light’s changed.”

“You didn’t say what you’re doing down here.”

“No, I didn’t. You were a naughty boy running out on us like that.”

“Barry was trying to make me suck his cock.”

“But, you sucked mine.”

“Yes, I did.”

“Oh, yes, I think I can see the difference. You liked mine, then?”

“Yes, I think I did.”

“How nice. Do you think you’ll come back?”

“Not to suck Barry’s cock.”

“But he can …”

“Why of course, I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“I will speak to him about that. What about ‘G’ Gerry; do you think he’ll come to our place?”

“I don’t know and frankly I don’t give a damn. When he’s ready to talk to me, I’ll go from there.”

“The park is rather pleasant at this time of day, isn’t it?”

“Yes, I’ve never been here before. Are you staying at the Arrowsmith?”

“Yes, the gentleman I’m with owns a rather large orchard in the Warnton area. He brings me down here whenever he has business in town. Look, see that man over there, the one with the Schnauzer and the little boy?”

“Yes?”

“What do you make of him?”

“What do you mean?”

“The boy, do you think they’re related or do you think they might have some other sort of arrangement?”

“Would he bring him out into the park?”

“Why not, he’s only a little boy.”

“That’s sick.”

“No, my dear boy, that’s New York.”

“I’ve got to sit down,” I said as I went over to the nearest bench and did just that. I gazed at the older man, the dog, and the boy. Neither the man nor the boy looked like they were related, but maybe the man was the boy’s grandfather or, maybe, an uncle. Maybe, the boy was adopted. But, there was the way the boy held onto the man’s hand. It was as if he was afraid the man might run away from him. As I watched, Clarence walked up to the man and spoke a few words to him. Once their conversation ended, he came over and sat down next to me.

“The man is a writer and has a sizable trust fund,” Clarence said. “He lives in an apartment over in that building.”

I looked at where Clarence was pointing and saw a substantial apartment building on Central Park East.

“He invited me over to have some heroin and ball the kid,” Clarence said with a smile.

“He didn’t either.”

“No, he didn’t. At least you’re not a gullible farmer. The kid is his grandson; his daughter is an investment banker downtown.”

“Do you want a blow-job?”

“What?”

“You heard me.”

“Where?”

“Back at the hotel.”

“Can I have your cock to do with as I wish?”

“You can finish what you were doing Saturday night.”

“Excellent, let’s go.”

* * * *

I went down to the restaurant for lunch after Clarence’s gentleman friend returned. Our sex session was quite pleasant and I looked forward to being with Clarence again. As I was enjoying the best cheeseburger and fries I’d ever had, Geoff walked in with a small valise and sat down at the table. He had a look that I couldn’t quite place. He didn’t say anything so I continued eating my burger.

The waiter came over and handed Geoff the lunch menu.

“May I get you a cocktail or something else?” the waiter asked.

“Campari and soda,” Geoff said.

“Yes, sir.”

“How’s the burger?” Geoff asked.

“Good; are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine; just a bit rattled. I get that way riding in New York cabs. I want you to drive us over to the Bronx.”

“Where?”

“The Bronx; you know, Yankee Stadium.”

“That’s where all the gangs are.”

“I’m sure we’ll be perfectly fine.”

The waiter came back with Geoff’s cocktail, which looked quite delicious to me. Geoff ordered a BLT and small side salad with the house vinaigrette.

“Why do we have to go there?”

“None of your business.”

“It’s my business if I have to take you there.”

“It concerns Dr. Tinsdale.”

“Do you have money in that bag?”

“Shush!”

“Are you going to have him killed?”

“Shush!”

“For god’s sake, Geoff, I’m thinking of having you adopt me and you’re getting involved with criminal activity,” I whispered.

“Don’t worry yourself; this is just another facet of who I am,” he whispered.

“You’ve done this before?”

He simply shrugged his shoulders. If I helped him by driving the car over to wherever in the Bronx, I might be complicit to whatever crime Geoff was committing. I suppose it was a choice on my part. I could continue in my relationship with this man and take him and his money to that place in the Bronx or I could simply get up and walk out of his life, forever giving up whatever benefits came with being on the good side of Geoffrey Johnson.

“Do you know what’s going to occur?”

“No.”

“Then you’re just buying a service, but you aren’t specifying what that service will be?”

“That’s a good way of putting it.”

“I’m uncomfortable with participating in this thing.”

“As you should be, but your involvement is miniscule compared to what I have to do.”

“Geoff, what did you tell your financial manager you were going to do with the money?”

“Oh, I said a sculpture had been broken when we had the fire and I was going to have it repaired or replaced. I said that I had been quoted an amount of two million to have it repaired.”

“And, they believed you?”

“Why wouldn’t they?”

“Do you have that, now.”

“Yes.”

“And, we’re going to stop in the Bronx and give the artist the money and he or she will solve your problem.”

“That’s a very nice way of putting it. What kept you busy while I was gone? Did you go over to Central Park?”

“Clarence is in town; I met him on my way over to the park.”

“Did you come back here and dirty the sheets?”

“Not ours.”

“Good boy; how is it that Clarence came to be in town?”

“He came down with a gentleman friend. I guess he’s an orchardist of some substance.”

“Yes, I believe I know the gentleman. He’s a lot like me.”

“In his choice of men?”

“Yes, but whenever we’ve been together he seemed to be more interested in femboys.”

“Like Clarence?”

“And, Barry.”

“Yes, we mustn’t forget Barry; speaking of whom, what would you say if I got a tat?”

“Why would you want to disfigure your wonderful body?”

“I’m not going to get body jewelry; I just want a tat.”

“Maybe, I should have said discolor your body.”

“Do you like the look of my body?”

“Certainly.”

“But you refuse to touch me.”

“Yes, pity that.”

The waiter served Geoff’s sandwich and salad. As I finished my burger and fries, I watched him carefully eat his salad as if he was expecting to find a dead bug in amongst the lettuce. His dining habits were impeccably proper as if he was used to eating in fancy New York restaurants. He was an enigma. A scholar at the height of his field of study and, yet, sexually drawn to young men my age. I suppose if he hadn’t been under that letter of proscription from the Provost, I just might have had his cock up my ass by the second day after moving in his house; and, now, with Erik living with us, Geoff didn’t seem to have any desire toward me, which was frustrating because I saw him as an acceptable bed partner. Sure, he was old enough to be my grandfather, but he was not even close to that old man. Geoff took good care of his body with a good diet and plenty of exercise.

“Are you done?” he asked.

“Yeah, I guess.”

“Go up to the room and get our luggage. I think I’ll take the sandwich with me and eat it in the car. I want to get out of this town as soon as possible.”

“Sounds good to me.”

After we got in the car—with me reluctantly ensconced in the driver’s seat—Geoff found the address to our destination and entered it into the Garmin. I was directed south to West 96th Street where I turned right and headed for the Henry Hudson Parkway which we followed all the way up into the Bronx. We followed the parkway until directed to exit on Fairfield, which I followed to West 235th Street and then to Johnson Avenue. As I drove south on Johnson the Garmin lady told me stop as our destination was on my left. I found a parking spot and asked, “Do you want me to come with you?”

“And, leave the car unattended? No way. No, you stay here.”

“Alright, but this doesn’t look like a very safe neighborhood.”

“What would you know about safe neighborhoods?”

“Just saying.”

“Look, I can take care of myself. You take care of the car.”

Geoff retrieved the valise from the backseat and walked away. In the rearview mirror, I saw him go down the sidewalk on the other side of the street and then enter a low building. I kept watching, waiting for him to come out until there was a thumping sound on my window. I turned and saw an extremely tattooed muscular Latino standing beside the car. I looked around and saw three more of the men standing around the car. I rolled down the window.

“You’re parked in a reserved spot,” the man at the window said.

“Sorry, I’m not from around here.”

“That’s more than obvious, chico. Move the car.”

I put it in gear, but immediately noticed that the other men were too close to the car and I could possibly hit them if I moved it.

“Your friends are in the way,” I said.

“Ain’t my friends, chico. You gonna move or do you need more encouragement?”

“Hey, I don’t want any trouble, but if I try to move the car I’m going to hit those other men.”

“You just don’t listen too good, chico.”

And, then everything became the worst nightmare I ever imagined. I can’t remember if I saw the gun before it fired, but I’ll always remember the feeling of the bullet tearing into the side of my face. I wasn’t aware enough to know if there was another.

* * * *

I don’t know how many days later I woke up in a hospital with a breathing tube down my throat, a catheter up my dick, and patches over both of my eyes. I sensed someone sitting in the chair beside the bed, so I reached over with my right hand and felt a shoulder and then a head.

“Ah, you’re awake. Just take it easy. Would you like me to hold your hand?”

I nodded and he did just that. I wiggled my hand and he stood. I tried to make a quizzical face, but since I couldn’t see, I didn’t know how he reacted.

“You were shot by one of the local toughs. He’s been taken care of. It seems the man I was to see pretty much runs that neighborhood. He was not too happy when you were shot and quickly set about to find the perp. Dr. Tinsdale is gone and won’t be troubling us anymore. I’ve been recertified as Erik’s temporary foster caregiver. Do you want me to contact your parents?”

I vigorously shook my head and immediately regretting doing that. A pain seared straight through my brain and blasted out my eyes; and, then I guess I passed out.

Sometime later I again woke again in the hospital. My eyes were still covered so I reached to my right, but no one was sitting in the chair. Maybe, Geoff stepped out to eat or use the restroom. Someone came in and said, “Oh, good, you’re awake. Would you like to get that tube out of your throat?”

I nodded.

“Well, let me go check at the desk and see if we can do that.”

After a few minutes, someone came into the room started fiddling with the tape and tube. “Keep your mouth open. One, two, and three.”

The tube was pulled out, but another tube was stuck back in my mouth. The sucking sound plainly described its purpose in the operation.

“Okay, big cough, let’s clear those passages,” a masculine voice said.

I did as he asked, but it made my head hurt when I did it, so I admit it was rather weak.

“Don’t worry, one of us will be back in a couple hours and help you clear out your lungs,” another masculine said.

About an hour after they left, someone else came into my room. I heard footsteps approaching the bed and surmised there was more than one person. A female voice said, “I’m Detective Sergeant Franklyn and this is Detective Gonzales. Did you get a good look at who shot you?”

“He had tats all over his body, from what I could see of it. He had a couple of those teardrop tats under his eyes. They were filled in, which I guess means he’s killed before.”

“Yep, that’s usually the meaning. Did you see the gun?”

“I was trying to move the car because he said the spot was reserved, but there were all these other Latinos standing around it. No, I don’t think I saw the gun.”

“What were you doing in that neighborhood?”

“My employer had an errand to do; he told me to wait in the car.”

“And, where did your employer have this errand?”

“I don’t know; I’m not in the habit of asking my boss what he’s doing. Do you ask your boss what he does?”

“Good point. Okay, I think that about covers it. You get better; sorry your visit to the Bronx turned out badly. In some places, it’s rather nice.”

“Yeah, thanks.”

After they left, a respiratory tech came back and helped me with my lungs. With the pain in my head it was not a pleasant experience. After he left, someone else came in and said, “How about a trip down to acute care?”

“Where am I now?”

“Intensive care; you’re improving so we’re transferring downstairs. Can’t go home until you’ve spent at least 24 hours in acute care.”

“I’m not putting up an argument.”

“Excellent.”

I missed Geoff. I hoped I correctly answered the questions of the detectives. The move was rather involved, but it took less than an hour and I was soon adapting to my new environment. I’d never spent so much time in the hospital, but before I knew it everything calmed down and someone handed me a box-like object.

“What’s this,” I asked as I turned it in my hands.

“Oh, it’s the TV controller, but I guess that isn’t going to do you much good right now. How about I put on some music?”

“Okay; do you have any Barbra Streisand? I have a friend who likes her singing and I’d kind of like to know what he sees in her. You know?”

“Well, let’s see what they’ve got on these things. Oh, here we go, she must be on ‘Torch Singers’ if anywhere.”

It wasn’t Barbra Streisand who came on, but it was a nice song and it relaxed me. I don’t know when I went to sleep, but I knew I missed Geoff. I hoped he was up in Rochester with Erik.

The following morning, someone brought in a food tray. He said, “The oatmeal’s hot; why don’t we start with that? Would you like some milk and sugar on it?”

“I hate oatmeal; just throw it on the floor.”

“Okay, I’ll see if I can get something else. Open your mouth for a spoonful of canned pears.”

I ate them and the piece of toast with non-dairy spread and strawberry jam. After that, I drank a cup of milk. He took the tray away, but after a few minutes he was back.

“You’re in luck, I was able to commandeer a bowl of Cream of Wheat. What would you like with it? Sugar? Milk? Cinnamon?”

“No, just plain is fine. I know that’s strange, but that’s how I learned to eat it in the beginning.”

“Quite alright.”

Once breakfast was over, I turned the TV controller on and listened to the singers. I heard voices out in the hall and then they came into the room.

“Hello, Jerry, I’m Dr. Harroldson and this is Drs. Nathan and Erroltine. I’m your neurosurgeon, Dr. Nathan is a plastic surgeon, and Dr. Erroltine is an ophthalmologist. These others are interns and you don’t need to know who they are as they will have very little effect on your stay with us.”

“Ben, that’s not very nice,” someone said. “In order of appearance, we have Drs. Krishnamurti, Violette, Burroughs, and Evanston.”

“Well, now that we’ve gotten that out of the way; how do you feel this morning?” Dr. Harroldson asked.

“Okay, I guess, it seems I have an awful lot of bandages on my head. What’s with my eyes?”

“Those two bullets that passed through your head caused a helluva lot of damage, both internally and externally. One bullet passed behind your left eye causing some damage to the optic nerve from what we can tell at present, though with further examination that may give a clearer picture, sorry for the pun. Unfortunately, the bullet impacted the right eye and exited on the right side of the eyelid. We were unable to save that eye. Hopefully, the surgeons up at Rochester will be able to put that exit wound into some semblance of order; you’ll probably end up wearing a patch of some sort for appearance’s sake. The other bullet traversed your brain case basally through the frontal cortex. You’re lucky to be alive. For whatever reason, your brain appears to have been minimally impacted by the passage, though there was considerable damage in conjunction with the exit wound. We’ll leave it to the doctors at Rochester to determine what damage occurred and what needs to be done.”

“You said the surgeons in Rochester?” I asked.

“Oh, yes, it seems your responsible party’s foster child is in the university hospital up there and we’ll be transferring you when you’re stable enough to handle the ride.”

“Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it. Robert, do you want to say anything?” Dr. Harroldson asked.

“No, I don’t think so, as his care will be received in Rochester; no sense in putting any false ideas in his head. You see, young man, you’ve lost a considerable amount of the right side of your skull. Now, I could explain what I would do for you to give you the appearance that not much happened, but, you see, none of that might happen up in Rochester. That isn’t to say they’re not going to affect the proper repairs, they just might not do it in the way I would. Do you understand?”

“Yes, I think I do.”

“Very well, you concentrate on getting better. Dr. Harroldson, how about we move the parade down to the next patient on our list. Unless, you want to say something, Peter.”

“No, I’ll leave it to the guys up at Rochester.”

They all seemed nice, but I was glad they were gone. So, I had lost my right eye, possibly some vision in my left, and, possibly, some brain function. I thought of Geoff telling me to stay with the car. Could I hate him for that? Was it possible for me to transfer all of the hurt I experienced—and, in all likelihood might experience in the weeks, months, and years ahead—to that wonderfully kind man who did everything thing he could to make me feel good about myself?

And, then, for some unknown reason I thought of Clarence’s cock and how wonderful it felt in my mouth. I hoped my injuries weren’t going to make me too ugly that he wouldn’t desire me enough to have sex with me ever again.

Copyright © 2017 CarlHoliday; 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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On 11/21/2016 08:56 AM, Lux Apollo said:

So what the fuck is up with you and blindness?

I can't really say; it just seems to be affecting a couple characters in this story. We can only hope it won't spread.

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I can say that I have never read one of your stories before; and while I will finish this one, I doubt I will ever read one again.  I can't remember the last time I read something that just seemed to go from tragedy to tragedy; and I am a drama queen from way back...

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On 6/23/2017 at 9:25 PM, centexhairysub said:
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I can say that I have never read one of your stories before; and while I will finish this one, I doubt I will ever read one again.  I can't remember the last time I read something that just seemed to go from tragedy to tragedy; and I am a drama queen from way back...

I'm sorry you're willing to take only one of my stories as a total example of all the stories I've written. All I can offer is that I generally don't like to write syrupy sweet stories and it's not uncommon for some characters to die.

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I have had it with your stories.  There is little happiness to found anywhere and stupidly unbelievable.  I keep waiting for things to get better but there is no hope.  

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