Date: Thu, 3 Jun 2004 23:52:22 EDT
From: RitchChristopher@cs.com
Subject: lush-life-4

All rights reserved. Copyright held by the author. If you are underage or
are offended by gay fiction, containing graphic sex and explicit language,
please exit now.

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                                   LUSH LIFE

                                       by

                                Ritch Christopher

                                  Chapter Four

                                "Where Or When"

                            * * * * * * * * * * * * *


                  "Some things that happen for the first time,
                          seem to be happening again..."
                             by Lorenz Hart
                                 from "Babes In Arms" 1936


<><><><><><><><>

	"But why can't I see him now?" Clay pled with the desk sergeant at
the 6th NYPD precinct in Greenwich Village.

	"You can see him tomorrow morning when the amount of bail is set
for him," the mustached policeman replied to Clay.

	"How much is that going to cost?"

	"Let's see..." the officer checked the arrest sheet..."mmm...first
time offender, but there WERE two gram packets of cocaine found in his
possession..."

	"But, officer, I was with him the whole day. I'm a doctor. I would
know if he'd been using or not."

	"You'll be very helpful to his defense attorney."

	"And who IS Dave's defense attorney? I want to talk with him."

	"It seems no one has been appointed yet."

	"Didn't he call for his OWN attorney?"

	"Said he didn't have one...so one's being appointed now as we
speak."

	Clay became more impatient. "OK, LOOK! USUALLY on first time
offences, how much does the bail run?

	"Well, since his urine was negative and there were no outward signs
of him having used in the past 24 to 48 hours, I'd roughly estimate his
bail at around ten thousand bucks.

	"Wow!" Clay exclaimed.

	"You...you mentioned you were a doctor?"

	"Yes."

	"Do you have any ID on you?"

	"Of course."

	"Do you mind showing it to me?"

	"Sure!" Dave said, fishing into his back pocket for his wallet
before handing it to the sergeant.

	"It says you're Clayton Lawson from Briarwood. The picture on your
ID looks authentic..."

	"Are you gonna arrest me, too?"

	"No, but your friend, Dave Banks, left word that if you should come
by, I was to give you his wallet, keys, and other personal effects. He said
for me to tell you to get his keys and go to his apartment and stay there."

	"...And how soon will his bail be posted?"

	"Oh, around nine in the morning or thereabouts."

	"FINE! I'll be here WITH ten thousand dollars!" Dave said, picking
up the manila envelope on the desk and shoving it under his left armpit.

	Outside, the night air seemed chillier than the night before or
maybe the icy feeling Clay had inside him made it feel that way.

	'Ten thousand dollars! I don't have that kind of fucking money!'
Clay said to himself. 'I sure as hell can't ask Tom or Rachel! Then I'd
have to admit to Dave's and my relationship.' For all practical purposes,
Dave had probably lost his job at the Rustic Inn and it was futile to go
back and ask Jay, the owner, to post Dave's bail.

	Clay's emotional depression got the best of him and he began to cry
as he walked northward from the precinct toward Dave's apartment. It was
almost midnight as Clay watched lovers, both straight and gay, walked
around the streets of the Village arm-in-arm. He imagined Dave and himself
walking home just like them.

	Spending the night alone in Dave's apartment promised to be the
longest and loneliest night of Clay's life. He also realized that if he
planned to give Cole ER two weeks notice on his return, then calling
Dr. Ed, his boss, was not the route to follow either.

	As in life or in fiction, when one is in trouble, the best place to
go or to call is "mother". When he arrived at Dave's place, he raised the
three windows enough to let some night air in, and sat down to dial Weston,
Florida. As luck would have it, Elizabeth Lawson Haskins was still up when
the phone rang.

	"Hello?"

	"Mom?"

	"Clay?"

	"Yes!"

	"Darling, how wonderful to hear your voice!"

	"Thanks, Mom, it's great to hear yours too. I thought you might
still be up."

	"Yes, darling, I was watching the House and Garden channel. They
had this delightful show on bougainvillea and philodendra. It was telecast
in high-definition and the colors were magnificent!"

	"Where's Daddy Bob?"

	"Oh, he's in the den surfing his computer, reading up on this one
pill that's been made to substitute the three pill cocktail for AIDS. How
are things in Briarwood?"

	"They're going great...only I'm not in Briarwood, I'm in New York!"

	"Good heavens! Whatever for?"

	"I...I had a few days vacation I HAD to take and...you remember my
two old pals at Vandy, Tom and Rachel Weiss?"

	"Certainly, Bob and I met them at your graduation."

	"Well, the two of them invited me up to their home to see the Big
Apple!"

	"That's wonderful! Are you having a good time?"

	"Yes, and no."

	"Clay, is something wrong? I seem to hear a nervous quality in your
voice..."

	"Yes, Mom, something's wrong and I don't know where or how to
begin."

	"Son, we've never kept secrets, not even when your father was
alive."

	"Mom, maybe there was ONE secret I kept from both of you...AND
Daddy Bob."

	"Oh?"

	"Mom...do you think I could borrow ten thousand dollars?"

	"If you need it...yes!"

	"Thanks, I DO need it!"

	"Clay, are you in some kind of trouble? Please don't tell me you
need the money to pay for some young girl's abortion. I mean there are
clinics which perform that procedure for practically nothing."

	"It's...not quite like that...only abortion is not the option in
this case...nor ever could be!"

	"Then you'd better explain. I'm curious and worried about you."

	"Mom, do you remember the kid next door, Scott?"

	"Clay, I'm not senile nor do I have Alzheimer's. Of course I
remember Scott."

	"Well, Mom, I don't know how to say this but...well, Scott and I
were MORE than just friends or next door neighbors."

	"You mean he was your lover or sex partner?"

	"Never my lover, Mom."

	"Don't you think your Dad and I were aware that you two were having
sexual experimentation behind the locked door of your bedroom?"

	"You knew?"

	"Of course, your dad and I always knew and never said anything so
that you COULD experiment with our unspoken approval."

	"Holy Jesus!...Then I was afraid for no reason during those years?"

	"Clay, had we known you were afraid, we'd have told you that we saw
nothing wrong in what you were doing."

	"Well, Mom, after Scott went off to college, my feelings remained
the same..."

	"You mean...toward guys..and not girls...?"

	"I'm sorry it took so long to tell you, but...yes. I'm gay, Mom!"

	"I'm glad you told me...and I'm happy that you're gay! But surely,
you don't want ten thousand dollars for your partner to have a sex change
operation?"

	Clay laughed. "No, Mom, I like everything about him just the way it
is."

	"Then why are you calling me for money?"

	"Listen, Mom, do you have time to hear the whole story?"

	"All night, if needs be."

	Clay started telling her about his going to the Rustic Inn and what
had happened later in Washington Square and at Dave's apartment. He
described his tour of New York, leaving out none of the details. Then
Clay's voice became shaky when he told his mom what had happened earlier
that evening when Dave went to work, following with an account of Dave's
arrest and his own experience with the desk sergeant.

	"My God, Clay, I'm so sorry! I know how lonely you must feel in his
apartment...but I also think of how lonely and frightened Dave must be in
jail."

	Hearing his mother's sympathetic remark brought a fresh reality to
Clay. He had only been thinking about himself without ever giving much
thought as to what Dave must have been going through right now.

	"Mom, I'm scared, but I'm even more frightened for Dave."

	"Son, do you think ten thousand dollars is enough? I can have Bob
get online and transfer as much as you need into your Briarwood account!"

	"Ten thousand should do it. Otherwise, I'll call you the very
minute I find out and you can send me more money if it's needed."

	"Tell me, Clay," she asked quietly, "are you in love with Dave?"

	"Very much, Mom...and he feels the same about me."

	"Then you know that Bob and I are going to have to meet our new
son-in-law as soon as possible."

	"Mom, I love you. I've never doubted that you were in my corner."

	"Clay, when your real father became ill and we couldn't afford to
give you all the things other boys like yourself had, I felt guilty as
hell. I always wanted to make it up to you. Never did you ask for anything
too high-priced for our budget. And now, with Bob's practice being so
successful, I can finally give you anything your heart desires."

	"Mom...the ten thousand dollars...it's just a loan. I'll pay back
every cent."

	"You'll do no such thing...call it a 'marriage gift' or a dowry,
but whatever you ask for is yours to keep. It's a gift from Bob and me."

	"Daddy Bob isn't anti-gay, is he?"

	"Honey, we live in Weston which is like a suburb of Fort
Lauderdale, probably the gayest city in the world. Do you think that Bob
asks on his treatment survey if a person's gay or not? I would bet over
half his clientele is gay. Bob'll be thrilled when I tell him you've found
someone to love."

	"Gee, Mom, I don't know what to say..." His voice started to break.

	"Tell Dave NOT to worry. I don't know if his real mother is alive,
but tell him I'm his new mother and I'll do all I can to help. I know you
told me that he's a jazz saxophonist, but there are dozens of recording
studios in Miami where he can cut his own CD. Bob might even produce it!"

	In the background, Clay heard his stepfather's voice.

	"Liz, who's that calling at midnight? Is it one of my patients?"
Bob asked.

	"No, sweetheart, it's Clay, calling from New York. Would you like
to speak with him?"

	"Of course."

	Elizabeth handed her cell phone to Bob.

	"Clay?" Bob said.

	"Daddy Bob?"

	"How are you? Is everything all right at Cole?"

	"I...I...Mom will explain everything to you when I hang up."

	"All right, I can't wait to hear everything."

	"Daddy, Bob, I...I'm thinking of moving to New York and applying
for a medical license here. I only hope I can find some place that needs me
for work."

	"Good Lord, son, I have contacts all over that city. Don't you
worry about a thing. I'll find you a job...and a good-paying one at that!"

	"Thanks."

	"Don't mention it! You're the only son I'm ever going to have and I
have too much money for your mother to spend once I'm dead and
buried. You're gonna have quite a bundle and you won't ever have to worry
about money. If you need some now, you know, to get started, let me
know...and hell, you can BUY your own apartment if you decide to."

	"Maybe most kids don't grow as close to their step-fathers as you
and I...but I DO love you."

	"I love you too, son. Now, I'll let you go so's you can say goodbye
to your mother."

	"Thanks, dad!"

	Elizabeth came back to the phone. "See? What did I tell you? He
loves you, Clay, and always will."

	"Thanks, Mom, I'll call you from the precinct tomorrow."

	"OK, son. In the meantime, I'll transfer your money right now."

	"Good night, Mom. I love you."

	"Good night, son. I'll be waiting for your call."

	Clay hung up the phone and felt a bit more secure. The money
problem was solved! That was one less thing to keep Dave and Clay apart.

<><><><><><><><><>

	Practically, his entire life Clay had played a musical game to pass
time. It began the first time Clay drove by himself from Fort Lauderdale to
Disney World. The distance was around 225 miles or average driving time 3
and 1/2 hours, so if he picked out five good CD's to play on his automobile
CD player, by the time the last cut had played, he would arrive at his
destination. This game worked ever better with Broadway Original Cast
albums. It took "My Fair Lady", "Camelot", "Brigadoon", "Gigi", and "Paint
Your Wagon" to complete his trip.

	It was 12:30AM in Dave's apartment, eight and one/half hours before
Clay could go to the precinct to see Dave, or in another calculation,
eleven jazz CD's, when finished playing would end at the exact time Clay
should leave. Luckily, Dave had a twelve disc cartridge on his CD player
and Clay picked out eleven soothing jazz recordings which he could sleep by
as well as while away the time.

	With Dave in jail, Clay picked all recordings of sax players...Bud
Shank, Paul Desmond, Stan Getz, Ted Nash, Branford Marsalis, Gerry
Mulligan, Johnny Hodges, John Coltrane, Lester Young, Chris Potter, and of
course, the quintessential one, Charlie "the Bird" Parker. Some sounds were
mournful; others seemed to wail in despair that one of their brothers was
in trouble. Each different sax solo, varying from alto to tenor sax, seemed
to want to comfort Clay's grief with their musical condolences.

	Morning light spilled across the apartment. Clay hadn't slept a
wink. He was still tired from yesterday's tour of New York, desperate about
having his new lover away from him in some dark dank jail cell. Clay rushed
to Dave's Compaq desktop computer and logged onto his bank account and saw
the $10,000 transfer and deposit his mother and step-dad had put into his
checking account.

	Before leaving to go to the Greenwich Village precinct, Clay took
time to shave, shower, and pick out a shirt, slacks, shoes, socks, and a
cardigan from Dave's closet. He opted for a cab instead of walking or
taking a subway. He even tipped the taxi driver ten dollars when they
arrived.

	The evening shift at the precinct had been replaced by the day
shift at 7:00 AM. A new desk sergeant was now in charge as Clay approached
him.

	"Excuse me, sir," Clay said to the ruddy redheaded Irish-looking
cop. "I've come to post bail for Dave Banks...David Banks who was
incarcerated here last night."

	"One moment please while I punch up his name on the computer. I'll
see how much bail has been set," the officer replied as he typed Dave's
name. He read the screen and looked at Clay. "Are you a relative of
Mr. Banks?"

	"No, sir, I'm a close friend."

	"Then I can't tell you what it says here."

	Clay quickly thought and said, "Would it help if I told you I'm his
personal physician?"

	"Then you're in luck...more important, your client is in luck."

	"Pardon?"

	"It says here that Mr. Banks was transferred to St. Vincent's
Hospital at five this morning."

	"For what, for God's sake?"

	"There's no reason written here, but it appears an emergency unit
was called to transport him."

	"Jesus Christ! Is he alive?"

	"It seems he was when the EMS arrived."

	"How do I get to St. Vincent's?"

	"Go outside and flag down the nearest cab and it'll get you
there. It's only a few blocks from here."

	Clay felt a nervous knot in the pit of his stomach. Dave was all
right and showed no sign of illness when he saw him last night at the
Rustic Inn, just before he was about to play. There were several cabs with
their 'vacant' lights on and the first one stopped to pick up Clay. The
desk sergeant was right--St. Vincent's WAS nearby and it took less than
five minutes for Clay to arrive.

	Rather than go through the same rigmarole Clay had encountered at
the police station, Clay decided he would cut to the chase and tell the
person at the hospital desk that he was Dave's physician and had received
an emergency call to come to his side to assume his care.

	"You're Dr. Clay Lawson?"

	"That's what my ID says..."

	"Then you might want to rush to the fifth floor, scrub up, and put
on a set of greens. Your patient is in surgery right now."

	The knot in Clay's stomach broke and as an onslaught of fear spread
through his entire body. "Surgery??? Why, for God's sake? Appendix? Heart
blockage? Intestinal disorder?"

	He rushed to the assignment desk on the surgery floor, asking which
operating booth contained David Banks. He lied, saying he was there to
assist in the operation. The desk clerk pointed to Operating Room "D" and
Clay ran to put on a pair of "greens" and scrub to his elbows. He all but
flew into Dave's room where he saw two surgeons, an anesthesiologist, two
nurses, and two surgery techs. He saw Dave lying on his stomach on an
operating table.

	"Who are you?" one of the surgeons asked.

	"I'm Dr. Clay Lawson, Mr. Banks private physician. I'm here to
oversee your procedure, although I've been kept in the dark about his
diagnosis."

	"Well, Dr. Lawson, your patient is in pretty bad shape. It seems he
was raped while incarcerated and his anal aperture has been split open and
he's received extensive lacerations in his colon, complicated by several
hematomas. We're going to have to repair the lining of his colon and lower
intestine, not to mention a rupture one inch inward from his anus."

	"He was raped?"

	"Several times, it appears...and not only with penises. The damage
is so deep I can only imagine some long foreign objects were used, maybe a
long wooden stick."

	Clay suppressed a scream, but began to cry.

	"You're sure that you're his doctor and not more than that? Usually
personal physicians don't display the kind of emotion you're displaying
right now."

	"No, it's just that in addition to being my patient, he and I
are...close friends."

	"He's gonna have a lot of pain and rehabilitation once we're
finished. I even considered a temporary colostomy procedure as normal bowel
movements are going to be difficult for him for many weeks. I also believe
your patient and friend is going to need extensive psychological therapy
during recovery since the emotional trauma in cases like this outweigh the
physical discomfort."

	"Thanks, Doctor, I'll see that he gets counseling."

	"Now, if you wish to assist, we'll continue with the operation and
patch the damaged tissue."

	"Thank you, Doctor, I'll follow your lead and instructions. Do
whatever you feel you have to."

	Tired, drained, physically and emotionally exhausted, Clay remained
by Dave's side until the final suture knot was tied. Then, after two hours
in a post-op room, Dave was transferred to a private room to a flat bed,
which allowed him to lie on his stomach. Clay knew it would be a few hours
more before Dave regained consciousness. The longer Clay waited, the
angrier he became.

	He remembered the way back to the police precinct and, not waiting
to catch a cab, he all but stormed his way back to the station; his rage
was growing as he walked up to the police desk.

	"EXCUSE ME, OFFICER!" Clay bellowed. "I just witnessed a six hour
surgical procedure due to an injury inflicted on David Banks who was jailed
here last night under you supervision. I want to know what the fuck
happened to him."

	"Are you an attorney?"

	"No, I'm his physician and friend. His lawyer will be here shortly
to investigate and press charges against the jailer and the officer on duty
last night."

	"Sir, I'm afraid I don't know..."

	"Don't give me that bullshit...EVERYONE here knows what
happened. It would benefit his psychological treatment if I had an idea of
just what the fuck happened."

	"Sir, it...it happened so quickly. Mr. Banks was in a...what we
call, a holding tank, before we transferred him to a private cell. It seems
that another detainee in the same holding tank made some inappropriate
remark to Mr. Banks and Mr. Banks took offence and struck the other
detainee."

	"And then?"

	"Two other detainees took hold of Mr. Banks to keep him from
attacking the first and...somehow...they held him down and stripped him and
proceeded to perform anal intercourse on Mr. Banks...and before we became
aware what was happening, he had been raped by several detainees."

	"NO ONE WAS SUPERVISING?" Clay shouted.

	"Sir, as I said, it happened so fast."

	"Just how the fuck long does it take to be attacked by three or
four detainees? One minute? Two? A half hour? Or did they all rape him at
the same time? I think that's highly unlikely!  What it suggests is that no
one here was doing his job for at LEAST thirty minutes or so!" Clay raged.

	"Dr. Lawson, I can assure you that..."

	"LISTEN TO ME!" Clay interrupted in a loud voice. "He was raped
after being arrested with some trumped-up drug possession charge? Did
anyone even bother to take a urine sample for testing? What's the matter?
Is your arrest quota down for the month? You have to arrest innocent people
to get your Christmas bonus four months early?"

	"Sir, if you'll give me a chance to fill you in on what's happened
this morning. You see, when the ADA came by to charge Mr. Banks, I sent an
officer down to the Evidence Locker to retrieve the two packets and I guess
either they had been misplaced or mysteriously disappeared. We searched
high and low and they can't be found. So, for lack of evidence, the ADA had
no option but to drop the possession charge. Also, the ADA interviewed the
owner and the bartender where Mr. Banks worked, not to mention his fellow
band members who all vouched for him. They all said that, if he'd been
using, they would have known it. The owner stated that he's been a model
employee for all the two years he's been playing there."

	"Possibilities of a lawsuit helped get the possession charges
dropped, I presume?"

	"You'll have to talk to the ADA about that, Doctor. All I know is
that I was ordered to erase the arrest charge on my computer."

	"Well, I'm certainly glad to see you're all earning your pay,
serving and protecting", Clay said sarcastically. "My friend's life is
ruined, thanks to your 'protection and service!"

	Clay bolted out the door of the police station in a fury of hatred
and hurt. If he had had an Uzi, in his anger he would have mowed down
everyone in sight.

	Now Clay had another problematic scenario to face. He was scheduled
to return to Briarwood in two days. There was no way on God's green planet
that he could leave Dave alone in his condition. My God! How would Dave
feel or react when he learned what had happened to him? Clay tried to
imagine how HE would feel. Clay had revealed to Dave how important his
virginity was to him, and surprisingly, Dave felt the same way. Both were
saving their first anal sexual experience for someone special, only to
discover that that special someone was each other. Dave would be
traumatized when he awoke to find out his first time had been spoiled,
ruined, and taken away from him. Clay suddenly felt they should have kept
this secret from each other.

	Clay also realized he was being rude to Tom and Rachel by avoiding
them. Had they gone to the Rustic Inn last night and how much had they
learned? Had Jay or the bartender told them he had rushed to the Greenwich
Village police precinct to see about a saxophone-playing drug user? In
their wildest imaginations, could they think that there was more than just
fan worship between Clay and Dave? Did Dave's date arrive early and the two
of them split to have another sexual encounter? Dave knew he had to call
Tom and offer some explanation, even if it was a lame one. In spite of his
misgivings, he called Tom and asked if they could meet for lunch, but only
with Tom and not Rachel.

	The lunch date was set for noon at Jim Downey's at 49th Street and
Eight Avenue where Clay and Tom arrived early. Downey's was always busy
during lunch, but somehow, luckily, they found a table for two way in the
back of the restaurant, which allowed them to have some privacy.

	"Hey, Dude!" Tom said as they met. "Your dick get a good workout
again last night?"

	"Hi, Tom. No, I'm afraid there was no repeat performance last
night."

	"Rachel and I waited until midnight and you didn't show, so we left
hoping you were having another wonderful night. You really didn't miss
much; the saxophonist wasn't on last night. It was just a trio."

	Their conversation was interrupted while the waiter took their
orders, after setting the table with silverware, napkins, and water
glasses. Once the waiter left, their talk continued.

	"Tom, there are so many things I have to tell you. I only hope you
have time to hear them all."

	"Buddy, the rest of my afternoon is yours if you need it."

	"I just might!" Clay replied, drinking his water.

	"What's up, bub? Don't tell me your new girlfriend decided you
knocked her up in just two evenings?"

	"Tom, I wish it was that simple."

	"Hey, something's really bothering you, isn't it? You haven't
cracked a smile or a grin since we sat down. What gives?"

	"I guess I'd better tell you the worst first, then if you want to
get up and leave, I'll understand."

	"Jesus Christ! Don't tell me that Ashcroft and the Feds are after
you...!"

	"That might even be a relief compared to the real story."

	"Clay, I'm dying from suspense and you keep running around Robin
Hood's barn instead of coming right out and telling me what's wrong!"

	"OK. I did have a date night before last..."

	"And you DID get laid, I hope!"

	"Well, kinda..."

	"Oh, shit! You settled for a hand job?"

	Clay smiled for the first time. "Not exactly."

	"You came early before you got it in? Is that it?"

	"NO! Please give me a chance. This is rather difficult for me to
say to you."

	"All right, my lips are sealed!"

	"My date was...was with a guy..."

	"Now I know you're joking. This is all some sort of a gag, right?"

	"It's no joke. I went to bed with Dave Banks, the sax player at the
Rustic Inn."

	"Good God! Were...were you both high on something?"

	"High on emotions and nothing else."

	"Clay, are you trying to say you're gay?"

	"I'm afraid so...and always have been...even at Vandy."

	"Jesus Christ! That explains so much to me. Why didn't you tell me
before this? Were you afraid I'd think you were trying to hit on me?"

	"No, nothing like that. I love Rachel as much as I love you. You're
my friends and I would never do anything behind your backs."

	"So you..you went to bed with Dave, the sax player...and then
what?"

	Clay spared himself from telling the intimate details of his and
Dave's night together. He described their tour throughout New York and
everything that led up to Dave's arrest. Then he depicted his long night at
Dave's apartment and detailed what happened at the police precinct,
St. Vincent's Hospital, Dave's surgery, and ended with a vivid account of
how he told off the entire police unit which pretty much brought Jay up to
date of the past two days. Finally, he lifted his head and looked at Tom.

	Tom let Clay's story sink in and then shook his head, "God damn!
Clay, you've been through sheer hell. Was the operation successful? Is Dave
going to be all right! Fucking cops! Were they doing? Eating 'Dunkin
Doughnuts' while Dave was being pulverized? What's his prognosis as you see
it?"

	"Physically, I'm sure he'll recover but mentally and
emotionally... I'm not so certain. I've known him less than 48 hours and I
don't know how he's dealt with crises in his past. I don't know what to
do. I need to be here with him, and yet I have to go back to Briarwood day
after tomorrow."

	"Welcome to New York, kiddo!"

	"I'm in love with Dave, Tom. He loves me...only I don't know what
to say to him. I can't leave him in the state he's in...even if it's only
for two weeks to work out a notice at Cole."

	"Clay, speaking of that, if you don't mind me changing the subject
for a minute...I've lined up several job prospects for you. Rachel has
found half a dozen herself. You can almost take your pick of locale and
salary."

	"Thanks, Tom, that's some good news anyway."

	"Rachel and I could check on Dave daily and call you with a report
every night...only we've never met him and he doesn't know that we're aware
of yours and his relationship."

	"I'll have both of you come by St. Vincent's tomorrow, if you're
available and introduce you. He's not ashamed of our relationship, I know,
so he'll probably be "open" about it to the two of you."

	"We'll be there...just name the time," Tom assured him. "I just
can't get over how dumb I've been all these years. I'm a doctor; I'm
supposed to recognize symptoms. NEVER did I think you were gay. Rachel and
I both just assumed you were dedicated to your medicine at Vandy and didn't
want to socialize.  Jesus! No wonder!"

	"Thanks for being so understanding, Tom."

	"Fuck, we're your friends, aren't we? I suppose we should be angry
as hell that you didn't tell us before now. Listen, should I tell Rachel or
do you want to in your own way?"

	"I think it's best if you tell her...I can't look at two startled
faces in one day."

	"I'm not startled, buddy, I love you and you damned well better
know it."

	"I love you and Rachel as well...and you know that, too."

	"The three of us have just got to put our knowledge-filled heads
together and come up with a silver lining inside this cloud of doom you're
under."

	"Thanks, Tom."

	"Now, first thing's first. You say you've had no sleep? I suggest
you go back to Dave's apartment and take a nap. It'll be hours before Dave
will feel like seeing you. Besides, you can't think straight with your mind
and body ready to keel over. Call me from the hospital after you've seen
him and tell me what time you want us to come visit tomorrow."

	"I COULD use some rest, come to think of it."

	"Thank God you still know what medical advice to adhere to."

	"I feel so much better talking with you now that everything's out
in the open."

	"Clay, it wouldn't have mattered to me OR to Rachel if you'd fallen
in love with a Martian or a bearded lady at the circus. I'm just so happy
you've found someone to love...and maybe, as a straight man I shouldn't say
this...but God! He IS good looking! All us guys have a feminine side and
I'm afraid to admit that several times when Dave was playing last night, I
felt a stir in my OWN shorts. I mean, there are certain guys that
automatically turn straight guys on...the same as gays. What man in the
world wouldn't like to run his hands down Brad Pitt's 'pecs' as they
appeared in "Troy"? Call it penis envy or repressed homosexuality, all men
DO feel something. I used to laugh when I was a kid. I'd see a Rock Hudson
flick on TV and find out I had a raging hard on in the middle of the
movie...and it sure as shit wasn't Doris Day that did it! Then, when Rock
Hudson revealed he was gay, I even worried about myself being turned on by
a gay and not the he-man I thought Rock was."

	"That's funny!" Clay said. "I remember one old movie, "The Postman
Always Rings Twice" and I got an erection while Jack Nicholson fucked
Jessica Lange on the kitchen table. I got one look at her snatch and the
front of my pants were bulging straight out. I knew it wasn't Jack who
excited me...it was Jessica."

	"Maybe that was your masculine side overpowering your feminine
side."

	Somewhere in the middle of their deep discussion, the waiter had
brought their lunch and without noticing, they had eaten every bite on
their plates.

	"Want some cheesecake for dessert?" Tom asked.

	"No, I just want to go back to Dave's and crash."

	"Good idea. Here--let me get the check and you tip the waiter," Tom
said.

	They both got up from the table and Clay laid a twenty-dollar bill
down for the waiter.

	"Jesus! Had I known you were that big a tipper, I'd've waited on
you myself." Tom joked.

	The two old schoolmates said goodbye in front of Downey's. Tom went
back to work while Clay walked all the way back to Dave's, giving him more
time to think of what to tell Cole and what he was going to say to Dave
later that evening.

	Since it was midafternoon, it was pointless to raise Dave's windows
for cooler air because there WAS no cool air this time of day. He went to
the CD player and put on 'Paul Horn With Strings' to soothe himself to
sleep. This CD was his dad's favorite 'sleeping pill' for he never seemed
to get past the third band before falling into a deep sleep. Clay barely
made it through 'band #2' before he dozed off. His mind was more at ease
after talking with Tom. He would think about Cole when he awoke or maybe
later when he returned from the hospital.

	Clay was more tired than he assumed because he slept for nearly
eight hours straight. It was nearly ten o'clock at night. Dave was surely
awake by now, alone, and worried where Clay was. So Clay skipped the shower
and shave, only taking the time to apply fresh deodorant and a couple of
splashes of Calvin Klein cologne and rushed outside to hail a taxi.

	The taxi trip took over twenty minutes due to the usual nightly New
York traffic. As he got out of the cab, he grabbed several five-dollar
bills out of his pocket and pitched them to the driver as he hurried into
St. Vincent's lobby. It was almost two hours since visiting hours were over
and Clay walked up one of the night desk clerks and showed his ID and his
Briarwood medical license and told the clerk he was an attending physician
to a patient on the fourth floor.

	The clerk accepted Clay's credentials and Clay ran to get an
elevator. He showed the same two cards in his wallet to the night nurse and
all but ran to Dave's room. Slowly he cracked the door. There was only a
night light turned on, causing a lot of darkness and shadows across the
room. He looked at Dave's bed and Clay's heart sank to his lower
abdomen. Dave's bed was empty and the mattress was folded up voided of
sheets and blankets. Had they moved Dave to another room or...or was he
dead?

	Clay's legs were frozen. He couldn't find the strength or courage
to walk back to the nurse's station for an answer. But he must!

	Slowly, he walked down the dimly lit hallway and cleared his throat
to get the nurse's attention.

	"Uh...excuse me...?"

	"Yes?"

	"The patient in room 411, Dave Banks? Where...where is he?"

	"Oh, you're his doctor?"

	"Yes."

	"I heard from the earlier shift that you had visited earlier, but
your name is not on his records. We didn't know your name or how to reach
you."

	"Why were you trying to reach me?"

	"Dr. Lawson, Mr. Banks is gone."

	The nurse's remark made Clay's knees buckle and he steadied himself
by holding onto the nurses' station desk.

	"You mean...he's..."

	"He's gone, Doctor! Vanished!"

	"You mean to say he walked out of here on his own volition?"

	"Either that or some friend carted him out in a wheelchair while
none of us was watching."

	"But he had surgery today...with lots of stitches."

	"I'm aware of that, Doctor. The entire hospital staff looked for
him for over three hours and no one has seen him. He didn't sign an "AMA"
waiver or say anything to anybody. Ms. Bartlett, the evening nurse's aide
said she went to give him water and ice around 5:00PM and he was awake and
cognitive. He asked her to bring him some juice and when she returned,
approximately ten minutes later, his bed was empty. That's when we began
our search. Dr. Lawson, you should know that the hospital is not
responsible for Mr. Banks once he leaves the premises, ignoring medical
advice. That's standard procedure."

	"You looked EVERYWHERE?" Clay said, almost shouting.

	"EVERYWHERE!" She replied.

	"MY GOD IN HEAVEN! This is preposterous!"

	"Those are MY exact feelings, Doctor. Having read his chart and
reviewed his surgical procedures earlier in the day, Mr. Banks could easily
hemorrhage to death!"

	"Jesus Christ! What kind of city is this anyway? First, he gets
attacked severely at the police station and now the hospital loses him as
its patient!"

	"Dr. Lawson, we can only watch so many patients...we're not
babysitters."

	"All I can say is that you're fucking incompetent nurses!"

	"Do you wish to file a complaint?"

	"Not now, but I intend to, once I find my patient!"

	"As you wish, Doctor. I have the complaint forms here at my desk."

	Clay gave her one more harsh glare and headed back toward the
elevators. He ran out of the building, got another cab and sped back to
Dave's apartment. Surely, that's where Dave would go. He climbed the stairs
by threes and hurriedly went inside the apartment. Dave was not there. He
had not been there. But where the fuck was he?

	Clay went back downstairs onto the open street. He looked both
ways. He was alone with millions of unanswered questions swirling inside
his head.


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(To be continued in "Lush Life"-5)