Date: Mon, 8 Oct 2001 21:13:24 -0700 (PDT) From: Sky Pro <skypro21@yahoo.com> Subject: B-Boys, Chapter 8 B-Boys by Skyler ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Chapter Eight: Brady's Out God, I just love Mondays! Traffic is always slow at the store, so I have time to do the real work. Administrative duty. I love sales, don't get me wrong, but I really enjoy the paperwork much more. Selling the car is the easy part. I actually have to think to do this stuff. After all, someday dad's going to retire and then my job gets really tough. May as well get prepared early. As usual, I arrived at the dealership around 7:00, before even the service guys. Gives me time to plan my day. I like being early, when it happens, no matter how rarely. Plus, since I arrive early on Mondays, it generally means that I can leave early, giving me even more time to spend with Bill. All I ever want to do is be with him anyway, so I try to take advantage of any possible opportunity to do just that. About 9:15 my phone rings. I do the weekly orders from 9:00 - 10:00 and always tell the receptionist to send all my calls during this time period directly to voice mail. The fact that somebody got past that was unusual, so this must be important. I lift the receiver. "Brady Davis. How may I help you?" "Brady? Its dad. I'll be there in a few minutes. Can you be in my office? We need to have a talk." The old man sounded somewhat uneasy, which was rare. "Sure thing, Pops. What's up? Need me to fire somebody? Handle a disciplinary problem? An angry customer?" All these were routine duties for me, and they were also the only things my father really ever bothered me about. Otherwise, he ran the company, traveled a bunch and I ran the floor. Worked well so far, anyway. "No, son, not exactly. Listen, we'll deal with it when I get there. Okay, pal?" "Sure thing, Chief. See you in a few." I clicked off the line. He hated it when I called him "Chief", drove him absolutely nuts. Everybody called him that around this place. For some reason, in the car business, people call their bosses Chief. Its supposed to be flattering, an ego boost of sorts. Dad hates it. He tells people all the time to stop calling him that, yet they still do it anyway. I continue my project and move on with the morning. Fifteen minutes later, I notice the beige Lincoln Navigator with the "M-1" plate pull next to my demo from the previous weekend. Time to go upstairs. I sit in his office, awaiting his arrival for about ten minutes. He probably got hung up talking to one of the service people when he dropped his keys with them so they could wash and gas his demo, just as he did every morning when he arrived. "Morning Pops! How was your weekend?" I love asking car people that question. In our business, the dealership is open six days a week, so the weekend really only consists of Sunday. Great schedule we have, huh? "Fine, pal, and good morning yourself!" He says behind me, as he hangs up his coat before crossing around behind his desk and taking a seat across from me. "How was yours?" He asked innocently, before casually tossing it on the desk. There before me sat a simple dog tag, the words "Bill and Brady: 1st month to forever..." engraved on its surface. Oh, shit... "You want to tell me something, pal? Jerry found this in the Town Car you were driving over the weekend. He pocketed it and gave it to me before anyone else saw what it was. At least I hope nobody else saw what it was. What exactly is this, son?" Shit! I must've dropped that in the car somehow! I had two made last week, completely identical, presenting the other one to Bill as part of my surprise Saturday night. I froze. I had no idea what to say, not a clue how to explain this one away... Fishing a cigarette out of my pocket, I lit it, and then offered one to my dad. I took a long drag and waited until he had his lit before speaking. "Look, dad, that is exactly what it appears to be. I'm not gonna lie to you. You always told me growing up that you can't sell a good salesman, so I'm not even gonna try." He smiled slightly at that and we both took a few more puffs before continuing. "Brady, you are my only child and I will always love you no matter what. You know that, don't you?" I nodded slightly. "Bit I am concerned about you, son. About what it will mean for you and for our family. This choice of lifestyle can be a very dangerous thing. That scares me for you." Another drag. He was nervous. "I know, Pops. I know it can be dangerous. But do you honestly think I chose this? Really? Because I didn't choose to be gay, dad, I just am." I'm tense. My father and I have always been very up front with one another about everything. I learned very early in life that you couldn't hide anything from a professional liar. It was just impossible, because the old man saw through it every single time. I guess that's what makes our relationship so great. I can tell him anything and I do. He's my most trusted confidant, just as I am his. "I figured you were going to say that, pal, and I don't care who you love or how you love them, so long as you are happy doing it. I am, however, worried about two things: Your safety and security. The word is out, son. The whole town is talking about you, your cousin and your friends. Much of what I'm hearing is very bad, very threatening." "Since when have I ever cared what other people think? Didn't you teach me to only worry about myself, to focus on what I want them to believe and therefore get the desired result?" Another smile. My father seems pleased that all the sales lessons he's taught me over the years have, in fact, resonated in my memory. He was still very serious and concerned, though. "Yes, I did teach you that and I believe it to be true. Brady, I'm worried for you still. People can be very cruel and I don't want to see anyone ever try to hurt you. No parent wants to see their child hurt." "I'm a pretty tough S.O.B., Pops. So is Bill. It'd be a very sorry, stupid jerk that fucks with us." He laughs at this. "I know you boys can handle yourselves. Thing is, I also mentioned security, in the financial sense. Brady, I've had three calls at home already from people in this community who say they won't deal with a company that employs people of that persuasion. Sandy said there were over a dozen calls already this morning concerning this, along that same line. I've worked hard over the years to build a strong company for you to have someday and I don't want to see you get financially ruined because of this, either." "So, what am I supposed to do? Not be gay? That isn't possible, dad. I am who and what I am. All those bigots can just go fuck themselves as far as I'm concerned!" My voice rises with this statement, as my anger starts to show. This is really ridiculous! I know that people are intrinsically stupid, but the levels and extremity it can reach really blow my mind sometimes. "Yeah, I know. I've already told people I've talked to that I don't want their business anyway and to go straight to hell." That was my dad. He could sell ice to an Eskimo and be your best friend, but if you crossed him, he didn't give a damn if you lived or died. I really do love my father! "So what should I do, dad? I'm scared too, you know?" I blink back another tear. "I really don't know, pal. Just know that I will stand behind you no matter what. And if you ever need anything from me..." "I know, Pops." He looks me square in the eyes. "Do you love him, son?" "With all my heart." He nods in acknowledgement and that was all that needs to be said right then. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Well, there's Chapter 8! Please send comments/ideas/thoughts/suggestions to skypro21@yahoo.com I look forward to hearing from you! The outpouring of support and interest in the development of this story so far has been wonderful and I greatly appreciate it! -Skyler