Date: Mon, 24 Mar 2008 21:20:41 -0700 (PDT)
From: T. Chase McPhee <survivalgame@yahoo.com>
Subject: ROAD TRIP  this is torture

The story below is a work of fiction, set in the
format of reality. Any resemblances to real people,
alive or in the hereafter, is entirely coincidental in
nature. It is not meant to accurately reflect upon
persons, in towns, cities, nor governmental areas,
which the story is staged. If a sexual scene involving
male-to-male relationships offends you, then you
should not read this story. Additionally, if you are
under 18 years of age, in most states and and
countries, you are not allowed to read this story, by
law. Check with your local laws regarding such. Sexual
safety matters. This is fiction. Use protection in
real life.

ROAD TRIP  this is torture
wriTten by T. Chase McPhee

%

By the time Anthony rummaged through the three drawer
filing cabinet, there remained a fraction of a third
of the cabinet filled. A matter of seven folders, five
containing current track team members, Jayab Yousef,
Aldo Yaccovino, David York, Kelan Windsor, Vitaly
Igdalev, Brendan Quinn-Shaw and a new folder made out
with Edwin Barredo's name at the top. On his desk were
the necessary papers to be filled out by doctors,
guardians and Edwin himself, regarding his
participation with the track'n'field team.

"I know it's early Coach Torricelli, but I'm here!"

"Me too," Larry smiled, clinging to Edwin's side.

Anthony wasn't too sure about Larry Billington tagging
along but decided it wouldn't harm the swimmer to get
a glimpse of what is `supposed' to be going on with a
track'n'field team member, something he wasn't sure
other than what Doug Irvine presented at meetings. For
sure he knew there wasn't any competition activities,
frowning upon Irvine for not showing an interest in
the job. Handing Edwin the papers, he said, "Well
before you do anything, I need to have you fill out
these papers by you, your doctor and your guardians."

"No problem with grandma," Edwin replied.

"Oh?" Anthony questioned.

However, Larry dove in, clearing the air, "Edwin lives
with his grandmother."

Edwin jumped into the conversation, adding, "Back
home. Here I live in the dorm."

Anthony got more of an explanation than asked for,
when Larry elaborated, "Yeah, I asked my parents
whether Edwin could sort of live with us, but they
said we have enough at home with Barry and Gary."
Larry left out the paramount meaning, his parents not
keen on having a gay relationship under one roof.

"Gary? There's another Billington boy?" Anthony smiled
as he said it.

"Yeah Gary. He's eighteen, a senior at Eskridge High.
He'll be coming to Applegate next year," Larry
offered.

"Any interest in sports?" Anthony asked, always
scouting for recruits.

"I'm not sure. He likes basketball and beach
volleyball."

Edwin giggled when Anthony said, "Beach volleyball? Up
here in the mountains?"

"We once lived in Cali, except my dad got transferred
to Eskridge."

"You didn't tell me that," Edwin said to Larry.

"You didn't ask!"

The three laughed, Edwin wanting to know, "Do any
surfing?"

"A little. Gary was awesome at surfing."

"Hmm," Anthony threw a curve ball, "maybe we should
start up a surfing team!"

"Yeah, right coach," Larry replies, upbeat. Scooping
the papers up from Anthony's desk, Larry helped
himself to them, saying to Edwin, "C'mon. Let's go
have the doc take a look at your sexy bod!"

Shortly after leaving, another two guys stood in their
places.

"Coach Torricelli?"

"That's me," Anthony smiled.

"I'm Kelan Windsor and this is," he points, "Brendan
Quinn-Shaw. We're here for track?"

Reaching out, the two place papers in Anthony's hand.

"I've read your files. Pretty impressive," Anthony
points out before dropping the bomb.

"Thanks," the two stood there, all smiles.

By their over-friendly attitudes, Anthony gets the
feeling they sense he could be a push-over. Skimming
over their paperwork, he mentions, "Well it looks like
everything is in order. Now how about getting into
your gear and taking twenty laps?"

Purposefully he turns to his desk, waiting for the
lash of words upon his ears. Probably their faces
would respond with a priceless reaction, but he got a
jolt of comical relief from their responses.

>From Kelan he gets, "Um, did I hear you correct Coach
Torricelli? Twenty laps?"

Low-keyed Anthony replies, "For starters," shuffling
papers on his desk, pretending not to pay attention
too much.

"You mean all in one day?" Brendan tries gaining
confirmation, too in shock.

"Why?" He questions, turning around, finally getting
the whole wham-bam picture. Then, looking at his
watch, "You gentlemen do realize you will be here for
the next three hours?"

"Three hours?" Anthony hears from outside his door,
another two track patrons in the wings.

"I thought," Brenday stutters, "practice was an hour,
tops?"

Kelan remarks, "Yeah. Coach Irvine let us go early if
we had someplace pressing to go."

"Like?"

His hands saying speaking for him, Kelan looks for
reasoning to followup on his statement.

Brendan jumps in with, "The student center... a guy's
gotta eat!"

A pair of eyes glance down at Brendan, as the eighteen
year old trackster-wannabe rubs his midsection through
his muscle tee.

Even though Brendan's tee didn't show any type of a
beefyness around the abs region, Anthony figured his
gesture a good symbol for more humiliation, upon
making an impression. "Oh really?"

He waited a coupla seconds for his comment to sink in.
They didn't disappoint him.

"Looks to me like you've been slacking off on the
crunches?"

"Nah," Kelan replies for Brendan, revealing more than
facts surrounding Anthony's quest, "his bod is
naturally fit. Why I don't think Brendan's done a
crunch in his life."

"That's right," Brendan replies, lifting his muscle
tee. "Check out these abs, coach!"

Both faces dropped from being proud to total shock
when Anthony laughs out loud, pulls up his own polo
shirt, states, "Abs? This is what I mean by rock hard
abs!"

Shocked out of their gourds, Kelan and Brendan stood
there looking down at Anthony's slightly hairy
midsection, feasting their eyes on more than his
sixpack, the dark trail embedded on his stomach,
painting a darker brown trail, swirling around his
deep bellyhole, disappearing under his belt. "Um,
yeah," Kelan replies, dumbfounded, scratching the back
of his head, "real nice Coach Torricelli."

"You must hit the gym for hours at a time," Brendan
replies, no less than astounded by his defined abs.

Smiling, Anthony kept his secret hidden, the fact he
had actually hit the gym for hours on end before he
and Roberto headed home for Thanksgiving. Yet lately
he could vouch for working out more outside the gym,
many anight with either Nicholas or his stringbean
lover.

"I've probably seen more action on the treadmill than
you two put together." With two downtrodden faces
showing in the doorway, Anthony bid them farewell,
saying, "Well it looks like I've got two more willing
victims. After your fifty crunches," he reduced the
sentence from his original thoughts, "you can hit the
track."

Anthony chuckled to himself, hearing the rebuttal pass
back and forth between the two, as they walked away,
gym bags slung over their shoulders. `Next victim!' he
said to himself.

When Aldo, David and Vitaly showed, it was pretty much
the same routine, except upon hearing David, the
twenty-two year old snap to it, saying, "No sweat,
Coach Torricelli!"

Aldo asked, "You Italian coach?"

Knowing the beginning of a con when her hears it.
Using Brendan as an example, he snaps back with"No,
I'm Japanese. Brendan can fill you in on the routine.
See you gentlemen later!"

He might have considered himself a wiseguy, except for
the badgering Aldo got from Vitaly and David when the
three set on course for the lockerroom, Aldo cursing
in Italian. Anthony smiled, doing a quick translation
for himself.

"Coach have you seen Robbie?"

Turning in his chair, Anthony dropped the `nasty
coach' attitude and gently answered Barry, "He was
working out at the pool last I heard."

Coming closer, the cute blond confronted Anthony,
"Coach, do you think I might be able to try out for
the swim team next semester?" About ready to shoot him
down, Barry threw in a last plea, "You know, not just
folding towels and stuff? I mean being really on the
swim team? Do some real diving? Be like the rest of
the guys?"

"I'd like to Barry, but you know we need your doctor's
go ahead?"

"I know," Barry replied, his last hope dashed to bits.

 Feeling it too, Anthony tried conjuring up something
of importance for Barry. "How would you like to be on
two teams, Barry?"

"For real Coach Torricelli?" Barry's temperament
jumped sky high. "How would that go?"

"You know, taking on the track'n'field team. With two
teams to coach," he made up as he went along, "I'm
going to be needing a righthand-man,  somebody
responsible to follow up on these lazy bums!"

"Cool! Like what would I have to do?" The nineteen
year old asks, enthused.

Trying to phrase his words carefully, Anthony made it
seem without Barry the track team would not be able to
function. "Well, without hurdles, the runners wouldn't
have anything to jump over. How strong are you Barry?"

"I'm pretty strong. Larry let Edwin show me some stuff
at the gym," Barry replies.

Anthony took mental note, informing the blond,
blue-eyed teen, "It's going to take some strong arms
to pull the hurdle cart out to the field, set them up
and them bring them back to the shed when we're done.
Keep things organized. Which also means you'll have to
stay for practice."

"Cool! I can do it coach! Wait til I tell Robbie! When
do I start?" Barry jumped at the opportunity.

"The team is out there now doing twenty laps, as soon
as..."

"Twenty laps?" Barry exclaims. "That'd kill me!"

Giggling, Anthony tells him, "You don't have to do
twenty Barry. Ready to go out and get started?"

Doing an imaginative wiping of his brow, Barry caught
a peripheral glimpse of Robbie, hair wet, running back
to the lockerroom. Excitedly he returned, "Sure, but
can I tell Robbie first?"

Anthony didn't see any point in rushing him, being he
would have to familiarize himself with the layout of
the track shed first. However, as ecstatic as he was
to tell the world of his new appointment, Barry
lingered, asking Coach tons of questions for which he
didn't have immediate answers. Finally, another
trackster showed up, cutting off their conversing.

"Robbie, you in here?" Barry yelled at the top of his
lungs, entering the lockerroom.

"Back here," came the reply.

Switching directions, Barry turned from entering the
lockers and sped towards the shower area. "What
gives?" he asked, seeing Jayab lying out on the towel
table, Robbie standing over him with a razor, carving
the hair from Jayab's pecs.

"Who is this little runt?" Jayab asks Robbie, not a
clue to what they mean to each other.

Perhaps a mental suggestion from Miguel's bdsm party,
Barry reacts.

"Uggggggh! Oh sheet!" Jayab responds to Barry's palm
coming down, slapping him full force onto his stomach.


"You almost fuckin' cut yourself!" Robbie says to
Jayab. Then to Barry he says, "He could've gotten
hurt, babe."

"The little baby can't even take a little slap on the
stomach?" Barry responded with audacity, not a care in
the world Jayab could have snapped him in two.

At first it looked like the six foot three
track'n'field star readied to take Barry out, but then
changed his tune, sitting on the edge of the metal
table, saying, "So you are the boyfriend, eh?"

Standing there with his hands on his hips, Barry
replies, "What's it to you?"

With his left pec still covered in shave cream, Jayab
looks to Robbie, then Barry, asking, "Are you as good
a shaver as your boyfriend?"

The grin, plus more or less the offer put Barry in a
new spin, making him smile.

Robbie cautioned, "I don't know Jayab. He's never
shaven anybody. Except himself, that is. I don't know
if...."

"Sure I can and guess what else?"

Neither were sure whom Barry asked, so both answered,
"What?"

"I'm going to be on the track team. Coach Torricelli
says!"

"Congratulations," Jayab comments, gobbling up Barry's
hand with his large grip.

"Oh?" Robbie questions.

"Sure. Now Barry can be in charge of keeping me
smooth," Jayab replied, a big toothy grin flirting
with Robbie's gorgeous blond boyfriend.

Both Barry and Jayab were smiling, but Robbie wasn't
too keen on handing the razor over to his boyfriend.
That is until his hand was forced.

"C'mon babe, if you need me to finish up. Coach
`needs' me out at the track."

More taking, than giving up the razor, soon it was in
Barry's hand. Jayab lay down on the towel table, part
of his legs hanging over the edge, arms stretched far
above his head.

Robbie became a little embarrassed by Barry's comment,
"You sure got a big one, Jayab. How long does it get?"

"Um," Robbie proceeded to enlighten his boyfriend,
"Jayab isn't gay."

"Don't matter. He still gets hard. Don't you Jayab?"

"When the mood hits me," Jayab replies, not used to
talking about himself in this way with two gay or
whatnot guys.

"It looks like it could get really big," Barry says,
scraping the lather from Jayab's other pec.

"Anybody know what time it is?" Robbie asks, looking
for a way to change the subject.

"When I was at Coach Torricelli's office it was 3:15.
It can't be more than ten minutes after that, babe."

"I guess I better get myself together and get over to
the high school," Robbie replied.

It took all of two minutes, answering Jayab's question
regarding Robbie tutoring high school students in an
`after-after school' program, designed to help out
students needing the extra help, plus providing
teaching experience for the instructor.

"You're good with the razor."

"Thanks," Barry replies, leaning in to get at the mid
section of Jayab's chest. "Oops! Got some on my shirt.
Be right back."

Jayab sat there, hands behind his head, looking down
at his chest, half shaven, clouds of puffy shaving
covering his right pec. Thinking over their
conversation of a few moments ago, he withdrew one
hand from behind his head, finding it's way down to
his pubes. A question never arising, the twenty-one
year old held up his cock, grabbing onto the head. He
thought to himself out loud, "It's gotta get to at
least six inches."

>From out of nowhere, he hears, "Oh I bet much more
than six!"

Quickly he drops his cock back into the bed of black
hair, it bouncing a few times against his big balls,
his hand returning to his neck. "Yeah, I guess," is
all he said about his cock, which he felt embarrassed
about even mentioning, his hand playing a part in the
measurement.

"Well six when it's deflated. I bet you're about a ten
when it's hard."

Jayab was glad when Barry didn't press the issue,
taking up the razor once again.

"Where's your shirt?"

"Drying. I had to wash the shaving soap out. I've got
another one in my locker for track practice."

Unintentionally, Barry made Jayab moan out loud when
he grasped onto his nip, pulling it away from Jayab's
chest, mowing down the shave creamed follicles, from
the outer reaches of his nip.

"Yeah, Robbie says the same thing when I pinch his
nips, only I do that on purpose."

"Pinch his nips, huh?"

"I can see you like it too, Jayab."

"Huh?"

"You're getting hard," was Barry's explanation, his
attention returning once again to Jayab's pubes.

"I am?" Jayab asked, doing a crunch to look. "Oh yeah.
I guess I am," the mideastern man replied, more fire
to add to his flaming red embarrassment, tinting his
already medium brown skin.

"I bet I can get you as hard as Robbie!"

It was the two and two Jayab never put together. Sure
he knew every guy had his feel-good spots, but he
thought between his legs was it. Now Barry was
presenting something which couldn't extinguish his
curiosity. As Barry shaved on, more and more did he
think about the challenge.

"Do you think it will really make me hard?"

"Only one way of finding out," Barry told him.

Not exactly sure on how to respond, Jayab could only
think of, "If you have the time?"

Bluntly, Barry put it to Jayab, "I don't. I've gotta
get going. I'm supposed to be out on the track field
now. Coach Torricelli needs me. You can shower off
now."

"But you didn't do my stomach?" He pressed halfway up
from the table to see the black fur, more crowded in
the middle, striped down his stomach.

"Another time," Barry yelled back from his locker.

"When?" Jayab quizzed him, while he was running out
the back door.

"I dunno," Barry replied and that was it.

Lying back down, Jayab felt abandoned and rather horny
from some certain thoughts. At the same time he
noticed the slight rise above his taut stomach,
subsided. Not thinking about it, then thinking about
it, he found himself touching the same nip Barry had
held up to shave down the side of his chest.
"Ooooooh," he moaned to himself, lightly pulverising
his right nip in his hand. Next he figured if one nip
teased, felt great, how would two feel? The sensation
at pube level was intensifying. Down below some help
was needed, as if his cock was crying out. His right
hand went to the rescue, his left hand crossing his
chest to his right pec. One helped the other as his
stroking made him want to mash his nip more.  It
heightened the pleasure and pain he was feeling. In
turn, his hand filled up quick with his cockmeat, his
hips bucking as if wanting it to grow more. The
muscles in his legs tensed as he got to the apex of
his strumming. After shooting ropes of cum onto his
stomach, Jayab allowed his nip to be free, realising
it, it wasn't his fingertips as much as his
fingernails keeping him in a heightened state until he
released his pent up load. He said to himself, "That
boy sure know'what he's talking `bout!"

"That's it. Very good Barry. Keep it straight. There
ya go. Now you're home free," Anthony talked Barry
through the angled movements, in order to haul the
wide flatbed cart full of hurdles, out from the track
shed.

"So you think I'm going to be okay Coach Torricelli?"

"So far," Anthony sweetly put it, with a smile.

"Is track practice the same amount of time as swimming
practice?" Barry asked, using his weight to pull the
cart along the stretches of the track.

"Depends."

"On?" Barry asks.

"On how long it takes me to run these jocks into the
ground!"

Barry had never really seen Coach Torricelli run, at
least across the oval, grassy field. Of course he's
seen Anthony swim in the pool at his home, but never
any long distance sprinting. He was amazed at how
versatile he could be at either cutting across the
grass or churning through a wavy pool. Maybe wishful
thinking, as a child would think, Barry said to
himself, `I want to grow up to be just like you,
coach!' Suddenly he was distracted, pulling the cart
up in front of the bleechers.

"You were right. Felt so hot jerking off and teasing
my nip at the same time. Had tons of cum explode out
of my cock. Awesome feeling!"

"Is that so?"

This topped the cake, Jayab standing there, telling of
his orgasmic nip-play-cock-eruption and to have his
track coach overhearing.

"Um, ah...."

"Why don't we see some hotter action, like your feet
exploding on the track?"

"Yes, sir!" Jayab said, getting his ass in gear and
heading out towards the gang of tracksters.

"How can you be like that coach?"

"Like what Barry?" Anthony asks, smiling when he
noticed Barry taking the initiative to start unloading
the cart.

"You're nice to me, but then you're different with the
track-guys, yelling at them."

He put it to Barry this way, "Why do you think we have
one of the top college swim teams?"

Barry thought about it a second, then replying, "Oh
yeah. I forgot. You scream at the swim team a lot
too." Then thinking about it some more, "But you don't
scream at them as much as you did in the beginning,
coach."

Anthony wasn't counting, but figured the group were on
their fourth or fifth lap, showing signs of
deterioration.
"C'mon! Pick up the pace ladies!" he shouted when they
passed by.

Both Barry and Anthony mutually giggled when they
heard Jayab mention to the others, "This is torture!"

Barry continued giggling, chilling out as he said,
"Remember Robbie's reaction when you said that to the
swim team, coach?"

A smile slowly forming on Anthony's lips, he said,
"Yeah I do. I thought for sure he was ready to haul
off and punch my lights out."

"Robbie wouldn't do that you know?"

Anthony well knew the answer, but figured hearing it
from Barry would give it new meaning. "Is that so?"

"Yup. He treats me real nice and you know what?"

"What?" Anthony asked, giving Barry the opportunity to
remove the last hurdle.

"I'm still trying to figure out why he picked me."

"Picked you for what?" Anthony asks, kind of knowing
what bothered Barry.

"A boyfriend. He's like the most incredible looking
guy on campus. He's got these big muscles," Barry
tries imitating a strong man with his puny biceps,
"and he's soooooo macho. How do you figure he picked
me to be his boyfriend?"

"How do you know he picked you?"

"Because I didn't pick him!"

Barry watched as Anthony stepped up to one of the
runners, comparing him to a tortoise, then falling
back into their conversation with, "Before you met
Robbie, what were your prerequisites on meeting the
perfect man, in your own opinion?"

Sitting on the side of the hurdle cart, Barry thought
about it, coming up with, "I didn't think I'd ever
find him, but a guy who's got looks to die for and a
bod to go along with it, plus maybe some brains."

"And you found him," Anthony simply put it.

"I suppose," Barry said, not sure if he was getting
the connection.

"Excuse me a minute," Anthony said, leaving Barry and
hightailing it across the field again, mouth flapping
out some words close to obcenity status.

Sitting there, Barry stared across the field, a few
hurdles getting stuck in his vision. It's then he
switched from looking at the animated, to the fixtures
standing still. Standing up, he took one and placed it
out all by itself on the track. He backed up about ten
feet and studied it. Then he walked back another five,
then six. "I can do this!" he said to himself. What
Barry hadn't realized is the hurdles were of four
heights, six, twelve, eighteen and twenty-four inches.
He had chosen the tallest. Starting where he felt he
thought was the advantage point, he took his run. He
stopped when almost ready to make his jump, analysing
the situation. Looking behind him, he backed up
further than before. Running at full steam, he leapt
up. For sure he hadn't gauged the jump, his shins
beating against the brunt of the hurdle. Fortunately,
his hands were above his head, maybe imitating a
winner at victory point. It aided him from falling
flat on his face, cushioning the fall. But he didn't
escape injury.

In the lead, Jayab cut across the green, Anthony and
the others lagging behind. "Ohmigosh Barry! You
alright?" he asked, looking straight down at the
ground, Barry splayed out on it.

"I think," Barry replied, as Jayab helped stand him
up.

But Barry wasn't alright. Blood dripped down his chin,
his palms and arms scraped, both knees showing deep
lacerations.

"Somebody get an ambulance!" Jayab yelled, seemingly
into Anthony's face when he approached.

"Barry, what did you do to yourself?"

"I think I forgot to jump high enough, coach," is all
he could say between the pain.

Making a quick decision, Anthony got on his cell and
dialed 911. This wasn't the moment for body-watching,
as Jayab pulled his shirt from overhead, telling his
teammates to do likewise.

"I'm no doctor," Jayab said.

Anthony, not meaning to be comical says, "Yeah, I can
tell. Here, put pressure on..." he took Jayab's team
tank top, grabbing Kelan's offered shirt, "on... on
wherever it's bleeding."

Face, arms, legs, there wasn't many places Barry
wasn't bleeding. Sitting down on the cart, Anthony
took Barry's head into his lap, pinching his nose,
hoping the blood would clot.

In a nasaly tone, Barry tried saying, "I'm sorry
coach," then proceeded to cough.

"You're going to be alright," Anthony assured him.

Running faster than the wind, Jayab ran back to the
gym, alerting the EMT's, leading them to the injured
victim. Wondering what the big `to do' was about, soon
the track became lined with spectators, as if a
competition in progress. Several came running over to
the bleechers, some swim team members or others who
knew Barry and Larry. Word spread fast. In their group
of caring individuals, stood Dean Harriot. Adam Steel
and another security guard kept the crowd from using
up too much of Barry's breathing space. On his cell
phone, Edwin spoke, "C'mon Larry... be there!"

"He gonna be alright?" Jayab questioned the EMT's.

The guy working on Barry's nose seemed to give Jayab
the once over before cracking a smile and answering,
"We'll have to wait til we get him to the hospital."
What nobody but the EMT noticed, is the sloppy shave
job somebody had given Jayab!

"I think he's ready," the other EMT said, both EMT's
carefully lifting Barry to a gurney, Anthony offering
some assistance with Barry's arm.

Jayab butt in, "Need some help?" his hands going for
`the lift'.

The dark-haired, stached EMT sarcastically said to
Jayab, a wicked grin on his face, "Not right now,
cowboy."

"Enough excitement for one day," Anthony stated when
the gurney was extended to it's full height, making it
simpler to wheel down the track. "Gentlemen, you're
excused for the day."

Aldo mentions to Brendan, "Well at least we're
upgraded from `ladies' to `gentlemen'!"

With the crowd thinning out, Adam walks over to
Anthony, asking "Do me a favor. We got a call out.
I'll be doing a double shift tonight, if you can relay
the message to Sep?"

Anthony assured him it wouldn't be a problem. As they
chatted, they walked behind the slow procession, Barry
strapped to the gurney, being taken over some rough
terrain between the track and the backside of the
Applegate gymnasium.

"Easy, Jill," the other EMT cautioned his colleague
when she stepped backwards, her foot taking on a rock.


In place of Jill, Jayab stood, his hands effortlessly
taking on the task of holding the end of the gurney at
Barry's head.

In a weary, subtle voice, Barry said, "Thanks."

"Yeah thanks," Jayab shifted his head upwards,
catching the other EMT looking at him, giving him a
wink as he thanked him.

With intersecting thoughts, those of Barry's
introduction of feeling-good-spots and now looking
upon a fairly good looking man, winking at him, Jayab
sensed a tingling between his legs, maybe something
more driving him into a horny mood.

Running ahead, Jill had the ambulance doors wide open,
ready to accept Barry. It took little effort for Jayab
and his mystery man to lift the gurney into the back
of the emergency vehicle.

Just before the doors closed, Anthony yelled to Barry
he would see him at the hospital. At the same time,
Anthony witnessed the EMT shoving something into
Jayab's hand. To a gay man it wasn't any secret,
Anthony catching the EMT checking Jayab out more than
once.

"Barry... he's going to be okay, right coach?" Jayab
asks.

"I'm sure he'll pull through. What about you?" Anthony
inquired, nodding to whatever was stabbed into Jayab's
hand, now crushed by closely knit fingers.


%

2B continued...

Copyright 2008 T. Chase McPhee
This story may not be sold, nor made part of any
collection without prior written permission, by the
author.