Date: Sun, 09 Sep 2001 20:13:22 -0700
From: Josh Heilig <joshbabe22@hotmail.com>
Subject: What You Won't Do for Love 02

What You Won't Do for Love, Chapter 2
By JoshBabe <joshbabe22@hotmail.com>

This work contains depictions of homosexuality. If
that is illegal in your jurisdiction, please, do not
continue reading this.

This work is copyright (c) 2001 by JoshBabe. You may
download and keep an unlimited number of copies for
personal use, but this work may not be used under any
circumstances without the prior consent of the author
with the exception of a personal copy. Aesthetic
changes (font size, font face, whitespace) do not
constitute a change that requires the author's
permission; any non-whitespace changes to the actual
text of the story require prior permission.




WHAT YOU WON'T DO FOR LOVE, CHAPTER TWO

I left off leaving for Ira's party, if I remember
correctly. If we assume that's true, well, I'll just
summarize and then pick it up from there.

I was at the Kennedy High Homecoming Assembly, on a
beautiful and unusually sunny October day in Oregon,
in my little town of Forestdale, when the cross-
country team captain, named Alex Wright, caught my
eye. At that point, I had a girlfriend named Julie, an
attractive cheerleader; I was popular and intelligent;
but I had never thought of myself as attracted to men,
I guess. I spent the rest of my day questioning
myself, thinking about Alex, and then I went home,
decided I was bisexual, and came out to my mom over
dinner, explaining the circumstances under which I had
come to my conclusion. My best friend Ira invited me
over to a party at his house, and while I was out
buying soda to bring to Ira's, I got hit on at the
grocery store by another guy, James, and got his phone
number. My mom pulled some serious strings and
discovered that Alex would be at the party, and when I
came home, she told me and I spent way more time than
usual primping myself for the party. I was on my way
over to Ira's when I concluded the last chapter.

The radio was tuned up and ready to go in Mom's car, a
signature that only I could leave it with. I had
accidentally left it on a real station, none of that
sappy stuff she liked, but I was fine with that this
evening. The sounds of KGON, the local classic rock
station, were almost vibrating the frame of the car,
which was cool by me. I loved the feel of the road as
the tires hummed their way from the farthest edge of
Forestdale to Spring Valley, about three miles away,
where Ira lived. Basically, if you drove up the hill
on 53rd from Miller, and then headed down into the
next valley over, you were in Spring Valley. It was a
pretty cool place, still mostly small farms and old
farmhouses that had since been sold. Remember what I
said about Portland? It's cool that way.

The shadows panned in and out of the sunroof as I
cruised up to the top of 53rd and then started the
long, winding descent into Spring Valley. Ira's
parents were pre-dot-com tech people who had moved to
Portland about ten years ago to work for Tektronix,
and they picked their house because they liked the way
it felt like being in a small little town. They had
their own little grocery store, and a couple of other
small businesses, although it wasn't like Forestdale.

Finally, I came around this massive last curve and
felt the road sliding downhill again, and there I was
at Ira's, at the very bottom of the valley itself.
Talk about a happening event -- he had cars lined up
all up and down the street, parked all over, and
people were walking in and out constantly in droves. I
almost felt ridiculous for taking a single car, most
of these people lived a lot closer than I did... the
other big party was in Forestdale, and we tended to
segregate based on where we lived. But I'd known Ira
for forever, and so I wasn't going to miss the chance
to go to his party -- and I sure wasn't going to miss
the chance to see, and maybe meet, Alex.

I snapped my head around quickly, as I pulled into my
place of honor in the garage. He always let me park
there... I even had a garage door opener. His parents
never used it. Wait. Was that a Land Rover pulling in?
Wow. Talk about a cool vehicle... did he know someone
that went to St. Andrew's? That was the only way I
could foresee a teenager with the family resources to
own a $45,000 car. Or maybe it was a parent's. Didn't
matter, this car barely cost us $25,000 and it still
put me substantially above most of the people I went
to school with.

And then I saw something I didn't expect to see. Alex,
and this cute kid with spiky brown-black hair, stepped
out of the Rover, which was, for the sake of
description, a nice dark blue. Wow. What a find. Not
only is he a knockout, but he's also got money.

Oh, wait, I said to myself. Isn't that what men hate
so much about women? Who says we don't do the same
thing? Then I added silently, I want to go into
journalism, though, I need to find me a wealthy woman
-- or, I amended, man, at that.

I went around and walked through the front door of
Ira's house, and stepped into the foyer, and suddenly
I could feel the place just vibrating with energy,
with bodies and motion, and -- disco. Wow. I hope
Ira's not overdoing it. Sure, everyone loves disco,
and it's the best way to get down and funky with some
hot ladies -- or Alex Wright -- but at the same time,
it is '70s music, or '80s music, or whatever.

But all of that beside, I thought for a moment and
decided to ask Ira if he could point me in Alex's
direction -- I'd interview him, run a feature on him
in the next Cold Warrior. Oooh, and then I could keep
all the pictures that get taken during the candid
"official interview". Yummy.

I figured that enough time had passed between Alex's
entrance and mine that he would be somewhere in the
party at that point. I was wrong, as it turned out.

Ira was "holding court," if you will, in the living
room, a Coke in one hand and a blonde chick in the
other. "Hey, Josh! What's up, man? Bring those sodas
like I asked, amigo?" he called, pulling the blonde
into his lap, and setting his soda between their legs.
She giggled. I took in the redecoration he had
tastefully put over his parents' dining-room mural --
cool posters, and that kind of stuff.

I raised my hand in salutation, and called back, "Hey,
Ira, my man! Awesome party you've got going here!
Who's the babe?"

"Heather, Josh; Josh, Heather." He made a couple
little gestures. She giggled again and I nodded in her
direction. "I got the sodas for you, man -- they're in
the car. I got a trade for you -- I want to interview
Alex Wright," my knees quaked as I said the name, "and
you will be able to figure out where he is better than
I can," I told him flatly.

He grinned again, and said, "Sorry, man, he's still
outside. Either that, or he's broken the cardinal rule
of my parties: Always pay a visit to the host."

I nodded back and he whispered something in Heather's
ear, and she blushed. He pushed her off, waved regally
at all of us, -- oh yeah, there were about fifteen in
the living room, just chilling -- and headed up the
steps.

Gee, I wonder where Ira was headed with Heather. How
wonderful it is to think that all your best friend
sees in women is a body to fuck. Or at least that was
the impression that he was giving off -- it's not like
he was really serious about her, or he'd've given me a
little more personal introduction, you know?

So that being that, I headed off, to go find Alex.
See, now I was really driven to meet him -- and what
better way than to run a feature which I'd written? I
would have, of course, to hope that he really was a
star and not some kind of wannabe.

I headed outdoors first, gazed longingly at the
beautiful car, the Rover. Then I saw him, sitting
there in the driver's seat, music on at nearly full
blast, with some guy next to him who looked pretty
similar -- probably a brother. Not the guy with the
spiky-brown hair, interestingly.

How was I going to do this? Palms sweaty and heart
pounding with excitement, I made my way over to the
car and pushed my way through the admirers surrounding
it. There were people lounging inside, sodas or beers
-- I couldn't tell -- in hand, and the doors were
open. Inside, there was rap or hip-hop or something
akin playing; I don't know which.

So I just tapped him on the shoulder and shouted,
"Hey, man, Ira sent me out here to find out if you
want to come in the party."

He grinned. It was like watching the sun rise over the
mountains, totally heartfelt and warm, and enveloped
his entire face. My knees practically gave in at the
sight. "Oh, yeah, man, lemme just bump these morons
out and get the car locked up and we'll go in. Will
you wait here a minute? I know the rules of the
house."

"Sure, man," I said. Actually, I didn't say it, but I
sure like hell tried. Nothing would come out, so
overwhelmed with delight was I that he wanted me to
stick with him. So I just nodded, which really meant
the same thing, right?

"Cool."

I watched as he cut the radio off, swatted out of the
car all the people in the back, pushed his brother out
the door and then closed the doors and locked up. He
clapped me on the back and said, "I'm Alex, although I
think you already know that, and you are...?"

"Josh." This time, I managed to produce a word.

He looked at me. "Heilig? Like, the sports editor kid,
in the Cold Warrior?"

"Yeah." I knew we should have used photos to go with
bylines.

"Cool."

I started grasping for straws, as we were geting
closer to the house by the minute. "Cool car you've
got, Alex," I said, managing not only to say a word
but to construct a complete sentence in his presence.
It was hard, but somehow I pulled it off.

"Thanks. It's my dad's. Usually, I only get to drive
my mom's old car, a Volvo agon. Pretty new, though, so
I can't complain."

I shrugged. "So you're the Alex from the cross-country
team, right? Alex Wright?"

He gave me another one of those grins, and I gazed
straight into those perfect brown eyes. Fuck. He'll
get freaked out if I start coming on to him. I broke
my gaze, being hyper-paranoid about this whole
business still, and smiled back, although I know it's
a hell of a lot less impressive a sight. "I was
thinking, you know, of doing a feature on you next
month. Figure it'd go well with this month's."

"Who'd you talk to?"

"Sharon Kell, from the soccer team..."

"I know Sharon, man... she lives just down the street
from me."

Well. Now I know where you live, too; we did the
candid at her house, after school. But on to more
immediate matters. "Would you mind if we did a prelim
interview tonight?"

He thought for a moment. "Shit. I was supposed to hook
up with somebody tonight, but no biggie."

"Cool. Thanks a bunch, man!" I said, and sincerely at
that, which was unusual for a journalist. We're
usually really good at flattery, to get what we want
out of a subject, but not terribly good at the whole
business of being honest. It's generally a bad idea.

He thought a moment. "I know it's a little weird-
sounding, but do you have your camera? We could even
do the candid if we have time -- word has it Paul is
coming tonight." What he meant was, since you don't
have a clue who Paul is, is that our photographer, who
was something of a local legend, might be up from
Eugene, where he was going to the University of
Oregon, and could shoot.

I held up my hand, to stop, you know, and then I told
him, "I'd better check in my trunk, but I think so.
Come with me, man, and we can talk a little first. You
know, get a feel for where to go -- and where not to -
- in the interview."

"Cool."

And I guess that was that. We talked a whole bunch
about a number of things, including league rivalries
and teachers whose classes to avoid. Luckily, I still
had hope, we hadn't mentioned girls once. Only, what
would I do if we did? (Or if we didn't? It's not like
I had this "being attracted to guys" business down
pat! 'Sides, so far, he was the only one I'd been
attracted to.)

But I've digressed off the plot. It turned out my
camera -- well, not mine, really, I'm a terrible
photographer, but the newspaper's -- was in the car,
and thus we took it, went into Ira's brother's room
after fighting our way through the throngs in the
party, and started. (Ira's brother was elsewhere,
being only 8.) I noted distastefully the awful bright
blue that the room had been painted clashed hideously
with the olive-green furniture. Poor kid.

My other complaint was hearing Ira and Heather next
door, faintly but clearly. God! You're not rabbits,
people! Calm down!

OK. Again, I've digressed. Our interview went
reasonably well, and it gave me a lot of appreciation
for the mind behind the gorgeous face, and, while it
was a typically 'athletic' mind at times, it had some
unexpected curves, too. Now that I actually knew the
guy, I could have a crush on him. I have a cardinal
rule: No falling for strangers.

The interview went something like this, and I'm
including it in a Rolling Stone-style format slightly
modified for the needs of plaintext. Keep in mind,
this is just the interesting bits.

Josh: So, the world knows you're a senior, 17 or 18,
tall, blonde, popular, athletic, and -- by the looks
of the car out front -- not hurting in the fiscal
department. How do you differ from the 77 million
other guys who fit that description?

A: Well, you know, dude, it's like, they're just
copying me anyway.
(Laughter)
Seriously, uhh... well, I do a lot of other stuff
outside of school and sports. I volunteer at the
Humane Society, working with lost dogs. I volunteered
to work for Ralph Nader's campaign...

J: So you'll be the reason we lose?

A: They don't want registered Democrats, evidently.
		(Laughter)
Other things? I dunno. I hate rap.

J: What do you call what was playing in your car
earlier?

A: My brother's music.

J: So what do you listen to?

A: Off the record, since this is really embarrassing,
but ... I love Rosie 105.

J: Eww! OK. Sorry. That was a value statement. What's
your favorite song?

A: The Santana song, "Smooth". You know, the one
with...

J: Rob Thomas. From Matchbox 20.

A: Yeah. Well, at least we're on the same wavelength.
Great song.

J: I love Santana, ... but I prefer the more dated
stuff. You know. "Oye Como Va," that kind of thing.

A: Whatever, man. I don't know any of his old stuff.

J: Sacrilege! Anyway, before the audience pukes, let's
move on-- ... Why the Humane Society? I understand the
whole "I help out dogs because they're cute and fuzzy
and look pretty" business -- I got that from Sharon
last month--
		(Laughter)
But seriously, why dogs? Why not trees, or
rhinoceroses, or depressed people?

A: Well, dogs give something back emotionally. It's
like, I get the love of 20 dogs a day and they give it
unequivocally. Every time I've tried to love someone,
I always have these strings attached, something
getting in the way-- popularity, good looks, money,
sex, ... overriding themes of high school. But a dog
loves you no matter what. You can't say that about a
tree. Or a rhinoceros, I don't think.

J: Probably not. OK, fair enough. Next question-- You
mentioned that you wanted to volunteer for Ralph
Nader's campaign, and yet you weren't planning on
voting for him from the sound of it. Why didn't you
just volunteer for Adlai's -- I mean, Al's -- sorry,
historical allusion -- campaign?

A: Sabotage.

J: Cool. I wish I could vote in this one.

A: I turn 18 on November 5th, just in time to register
on Monday and vote on Tuesday. Of course, it means I
have to drive my ballot in, because of this vote-by-
mail shit.

J: I don't think I can publish that word, man.

A: So don't. I'm sure there are suitable words that
you can replace it with. ...
J: What's the biggest influence in your life? Or,
alternatively, who? You can answer either.

A: My dad. He's always been there to help, console,
teach, love, trust, and coach, plus lend a car. ...

(Laughter)

J: Do you have a favorite book?

A: _The City and the Pillar_, by Gore Vidal. It's this
really profound exploration of what it means to be gay
and not be a flaming drag-queen type, but just, like,
an ordinary guy. Gave me some insight as to how to
treat the other 10%.

J: How did you come across it?

A: I'm a big Gore Vidal fan. I saw it at Powell's one
day and picked it up. ...

J: OK, final question -- In just one word, how would
you describe yourself?

A: Umm. Damn, that's hard. Can I make it three?

J: Sure, why not? I'll pretend I originally said
"three".

A: Cool. 'Do what's right.'

J: That's four.

A: No, 'cool' isn't part of it.

J: Ah. Well, that concludes this. ...

So, you see, he really blew me away at times. My knees
got weak, well, especially weak, at the mention of
_The City and the Pillar_, and I was hoping he's at
least got some sympathy for my interest, even if it
wasn't reciprocated. As it so happened, that's my
favorite book, too; I read it on Meredith's
recommendation, when we were freshmen.

On the way out, his hand even brushed up against mine,
and lingered there for a second or two. It sent
shivers down my spine, and I thought I would collapse
for a second or two, except that would have been
really super-obvious.

Was he interested?

Nah. Couldn't be.

But he did let his hand stay there.

Or he didn't notice, unlike you -- specifically one
part.

Shit, can he see it?

I doubt it, under all these layers of clothes.

Hey, I like these clothes.

Well, you didn't ask me first, before you picked 'em.

Either way... he's not interested. He's straight.
Gotta be.

Or in denial.

Mmmn, wouldn't that be nice?

Quit daydreaming! You're on a staircase.

Unfortunately for me, Paul never did make it to the
party. 'Sides, I don't think Mr. Hyle, our newspaper
adviser, would have let me run photos from a party for
the candid. They would have made great file photos at
home, though, if you know what I mean...

As I headed down the steps, just a step or two ahead
of Alex, I saw my friends Jessica and Meredith, who
had always been close, peering up at me on the steps.

"Josh! What's up?" Meredith shot at me, excited as
always.

I nodded appreciatively, and then tossed in, above the
din, "I was just interviewing Alex here for a feature
for the paper." Letting myself turn around on the
steps, I gestured at who was below, and said, "Alex,
these are my friends Jessica and Meredith. Jackson is,
well, not into the 'immorality of parties', and Ira
is, as you heard, enjoying himself upstairs, but
that's basically the whole gang."
He flashed that smile that made my heart pound, my
knees quaver and my legs stop cold in their tracks,
and said, "Pleasure to meet you, ladies." Meredith,
the lesbian, was blissfully immune to that magical
expression -- or at least, didn't notice it, Alex
being a male -- but I saw Jessica swoon. Damn.

We started heading down the steps again, and the roar
of the music and the sounds of sungar and/or alcohol-
high teens became overwhelming. I motioned to Alex to
follow me, and we exchanged phone numbers, on Ira's
back porch. He flashed me one more stunning grin, and
then I headed back inside.

OK, so maybe I have a crush on him.

And?

And what?

Whaddya gonna do about it?

Don't use that voice with me!

Why not? It's mine too!

This is ridiculous.

You started it!

No, I think Alex started it.

Whatever.

"Josh! Are you OK, dude?" It was Meredith.

I pondered. "Yeah. I was just zoned out, is all," I
reassured her.

"Why?"

"I've fallen for another impossibility."

"What?!? You want to give up the last conquered
impossibility? They don't come any more good-looking
than Julie, Josh!" she cried, rather loudly. "I mean,
geez!"

"Uhh..."

She laughed. "No way! Better?"

"Uhh..." I carefully selected the best word, before
continuing my statement. "Different, is all."

Meredith frowned. Suddenly I heard my mom's voice:
"I've known for a long time, honey." I decided to tell
her. "Meredith, I... I... uhh... I'm bisexual."

I saw her smile. She clapped me on the back. "Good for
you! I'm proud of you for being able to tell me." Then
she gave me a hug. "It's not the end of the world."

But I was already in panic mode, and a look of horror
had struck me on the face. -- Or so I'm told; I
couldn't exactly see it. -- Anyway, I was panicking.
"What's the matter, hon?" she asked me, so I turned
her around.

Standing in the door to the porch were Alex and
Jessica, the one -- the most beautiful being in
existence, as far as I was concerned -- looking
stupefied, and the other with a face probably
mirroring mine.

"Oh God! Now I'm screwed!" I cried out, and ran as
fast as I could. Somehow, I made it to my car, and got
in and locked the doors, and broke down crying. Not
exactly my idea of a good ending to a day that had
already been pretty rough, in retrospect.



Pretty soon, I heard a tapping at the window. A
concerned Meredith and Jessica, with Ira and Alex in
the background, were standing at the window. "Josh?
Josh! Open the door now!" Meredith commanded.
Reluctantly, I complied, and instantly Jessica thrust
a few Kleenexes at me.

"Thanks," I sniffled, wiping my eyes and then blowing
my nose.

"OK, we need to talk, bud. This disappearing-act bit
didn't work... why are you screwed?" asked Jessica.
"What's this all about?"

"What was that look you flashed me all about?"

She chuckled. "You and Meredith were in a reasonably
compromising position, under circumstances I'd call
more than reasonably compromising. I mean, I figured,
she _is_ a lesbian, right?"

Meredith beamed.

"So what's all this fuss about?" Jessica persisted.

Fuck. Now I'd have to tell them. I wouldn't've if I
hadn't run. "Jessica, I'm ... bisexual. That's what I
was telling Meredith."

A grin got thrown my way, from Meredith. "See? It just
gets easier every time."

Jessica just nodded. "OK. Not what I was expecting.
But that's cool."

>From in the distance, Ira approached, Alex in tow, the
two both looking puzzled. I heard my best friend say,
although it didn't really register, "And?"

I faltered, so Meredith covered for me. "Josh is
bisexual. Oh, and if you ever tell a soul, until he
says otherwise," and she smiled sweetly, "I will cut
your balls off. Either of you. I'm a lesbian, don't
doubt I see little value in them."

I actually thought it would be a shame to see Alex
have to lose his balls, but hopefully, it wouldn't be
a problem, you know?

Ira nodded. "Cool. 'Double the pleasure, double the
fun...'" he hummed the old Double Mind jingle.
Meredith glared at him.

Then I heard the other door, on the passenger side,
open; I felt my head moving involuntarily; and I
suddenly saw Alex there.

I moved my head towards him, and we kissed. Whoa.

Laughter and applause rippled through our audience of
three.



WHAT YOU WON'T DO FOR LOVE, CHAPTER TWO CLIFFHANGER

Now that everyone in the group besides Jackson knows
that Josh is bi, what's going to happen? Is Meredith
going to need to cut anyone's balls off? Why did Alex
kiss Josh? Does he really like him, or is he just
being nice? What about James? We still haven't heard
from Julie!

COMMENTS FROM THE AUTHOR

Hey, guys. Sorry the last chapter was so long, but I
kind of get carried away with my own descriptions
sometimes. This one's shorter.

Give me your feedback, please... send them to
joshbabe22@hotmail.com. Flames will go to /dev/null.