Date: Sat, 15 Nov 2003 05:39:48 -0800 (PST)
From: Niftyguy <niftyguy_30307@yahoo.com>
Subject: my summer job chapter 23

My Summer Job, Chapter Twenty-three

Warning: the following story contains graphic descriptions of sex between
consenting adult males. If you are underage or do not wish to read such
materials, read no further.  If you have any feedback, please drop me a
line at niftyguy_30307@yahoo.com

Thanks a lot to all of the guys who have written.  I appreciate the
encouragement.

Note: Each new chapter in this series assumes the reader has read the
preceding chapters.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

What a diff'rence, a day made.

As the shot rang out, time slowed down to the point that I truly believe
that I could have seen the bullet had I been looking.

Twenty-four little hours.

I could have reached out and plucked it out of thin air like it was a piece
of lint clinging to the fabric of time and space, or flicked it away as
though it were an insect that was crawling its way toward a bloody scrap of
meat.

Brought the sun and the flowers.

But I didn't see it, and I didn't interrupt its trajectory, and I didn't
keep it from changing everything.

Where there used to be rain.

But I get ahead of myself.

"There she goes, she's taking a left turn at the light."  Sam pointed at
Beverly's shabby hatchback as it slid through the intersection.  "Isn't her
house the other way?  She must not be going straight back home."

I did my best to follow a discreet distance back, occasionally even letting
another car come between us.  I had to be careful, though, because I didn't
want to lose her.  We had waited outside the diner at the end of her shift,
and we had trailed her first to a supermarket.  After she emerged with a
single bag and a bouquet of flowers, we followed her onto a road that
appeared to lead out of town.

"I think she's turning up that dirt road," Sam hissed.

Indeed she was.  I slowed down and pulled off to the side of the road, not
wanting to risk following her on the unpaved surface.  A column of dust
marked her progress up the rutted lane, but she slowed down and turned
barely two hundred yards from the main road.  Within seconds, the sound of
her car's engine ceased, signaling that she had stopped.

After a couple of minutes of waiting, Sam turned to me.  "Are you game?"

I nodded wordlessly, and we stepped out of the car into the filtered gray
light of the fog-obscured sun.  Gravel crunched under foot as we made our
way to the spot where Beverly had turned.  As we drew closer, a faded sign
came into view.  Seaside Rest Cemetery.  Tall pines swayed, and a few lazy
gulls glided in for a look-see.  In the distance, Beverly stood, looking
down at a grave, her back turned towards us.  We watched for a minute or
two, but ducked quickly behind a tree as she turned to return to her car.

And then we heard her car start, and she was gone.

Unwilling to break the somber silence of this place, I motioned to Sam to
follow, and we walked together over to the far side of the cemetery.  As we
got closer to where Beverly had stood, I saw that she had left the bouquet
of flowers in front of a well-tended grave.  But it wasn't just any grave.
Very clearly, engraved lovingly in eternal stone, were the most unexpected
words.

Richard Gray A Beloved Son Taken Too Soon 1966 Ð 1993

Sam and I just stood there, mouths agape.  It took a very long minute for
the import of these words to sink in.

"Well I'll be goddamned," Sam said slowly, eyes glued to the stone tablet,
almost daring the words to dissolve before our very eyes.  "Now I don't
know what to think."

"Is this even possible?" I asked rhetorically.  "How could Rich be buried
here and running Idlewild at the same time?"

"He can't be.  That much is clear.  The only thing I can figure is that the
Rich we know must be a fake."

"Once again, a keen grasp of the obvious."

Sam and I both froze, rooted in place by the sound of an oh-so-familiar
voice, emerging from behind a marble monument behind us.  Very slowly, we
turned around, while simultaneously Rich emerged into view.

"But don't you think that fake is a needlessly harsh term?  I personally
prefer impostor."

Our now anonymous nemesis motioned at he grave with the 9 mm semi-automatic
pistol he carried.  "Sorry to have to tell you, Sam, that your brother's
dead.  It's kind of ironic, though, you and he are quite alike.  He tried
to get away from me, too, and we just couldn't have that, could we?  He was
going to spoil my plans then, just the way you want to now.  It's a shame
you'll have to end up the same way, have the same kind of accident."

He turned to me.  "Unfortunately for you, Mike, you're going to go along
for the same ride.  It is gratifying to know just how predictable and
stupid you are; it confirms what I thought all along."

"But how did you know we'd be here?"

Rich laughed.  "You really don't get it, do you Mike?  Do you really think
that it was a coincidence that I left the safe open the other night, when I
sent you to get cigars?  I played you like a violin.  I knew that you'd
come here to Fort Bragg, that you'd find Beverly, that eventually she'd
lead you here.  Here's some advice.  When you're following someone else,
it's important to check to make sure you're not being followed yourself.
You know, it's a good thing you've got a big dick, because you sure
wouldn't get very far on your brains.  Of course, since I'm going to have
to kill you, I guess that particular issue is moot."

Rich raised his gun, pointing it directly at us.

"OK, now we're going to go for a little walk."  He motioned toward a path
that led through some scrubby trees.  "That way, boys."

Our little procession wound through the grove of trees before emerging onto
a bluff high above the ocean.  We could hear waves crashing below, a
muffled pounding against the sheer rock face, but the view was obscured by
the blanket of fog that was piling onto the coast.  We stopped maybe five
feet from the edge of the cliff, near a sign that, in pictogram form,
warned of the danger of falling to the rocks below.  Rich pulled a bottle
out of the pocket of his jacket and tossed it on the ground in front of us.

"Pick it up," he said brusquely.

I reached down to retrieve the clear, unmarked bottle.  It contained a
green liquid, which looked the same as what Robbie had been drinking a
couple of nights before, the last night that I had spent at Idlewild.
Whatever it was, it must be strong, judging from the effect that it had had
on Robbie.

"Drink it."

Sam shook his head.  "Mike, don't.  I've had that stuff.  It's like a
narcotic.  We won't be in control if we have it.  He'll be able to just
push us off the cliff."  Sam looked very harshly at Rich.  "I want to be
awake when this asshole kills me.  I do have one question for you, though.
Why did you take my brother's name and pretend to be him?"

Rich smiled tightly.  "Why Sam, you're almost as stupid as Mike.  Quite
simply, as soon as your brother told me his tale of woe, how he had been
abandoned by his rich father, left to be raised in this nowhere place, I
knew that we had a ticket on a gravy train.  We just had to play it right.
When your brother decided that he wasn't willing to do what it took to get
on board, well, let's just say that I took matters into my own hands."
Once again, Rich raised his gun.  "Now something tells me that you're both
terribly thirsty."

My heart was pounding.  There didn't seem to be any way out.  Slowly, in
resignation, I unscrewed the cap and raised the bottle to my lips.  The
acrid, licorice aroma permeated my nose as Sam looked at me and shook his
head, pleading with me not to do it.  I tilted the bottle back, preparing
myself mentally to take the last few breaths of my life.  Suddenly,
violently, I was jerked back to the here and now as a shot rang out.  I
dropped the bottle, and it shattered against a rock, creating a sunburst
explosion of green liquid.  A second shot rang out, and I hurtled myself at
Sam, pulling him down.

And then I turned to watch Rich, in slow motion surprise, slowly sink to
the ground, two bloody stains blooming across his white shirt.  He turned
to look at us.

"Help, help me."

It may have been one minute, it may have been ten.  But eventually his eyes
turned glassy and lifeless, and they threatened us no more.

It was at that moment that I first heard the sobs, and I looked over to the
edge of the trees, where Beverly Gray had sunk to the ground, breast
heaving with the pent up tears of delayed retribution.  She very
deliberately set a gun on the ground in front of her.  No longer did she
have a need for it.

. . .

I had just nestled into the deep armchair I had scavenged for my room,
ready to do some reading for my history class, when the phone rang.  It was
one of those cold and rainy days that you can have in California, despite
its sunny reputation, even as early as November, and I had just made some
tea to ward off the chill while I did my work.  I reached over to pick up
the phone.

"Hello."

"Hey there."  The familiar voice felt like a ray of sunshine sweeping over
me.

"Hey Sam, what are you up to?"

"Not much, Mikey boy.  I just wanted to make sure everything was set for
Thanksgiving.  Did you get the directions to my parents' house?"

"Yeah, I printed out the email, so I should be all set.  I'll drive up
Wednesday morning, so I'll probably be there by 1:00 or so."

"Sounds good.  That'll give us a couple of hours without Mom and Dad
around."

I laughed.  "And why should I care about that?"

"Well, I think I can make you care, big guy."

Just the thought of sleeping with Sam again was enough of a catalyst to
cause an erection to spring to life, and I reached my hand into my jeans to
adjust my lengthening cock.  As we talked, I allowed my hand to stroke
myself, bringing to mind memories of everything that had gone on up at
Idlewild, but especially my first time with Sam.  It had been an amazing
summer, the summer when I became the man who I am.  And the summer when I
met the man who was mine.

It's heaven when you find romance on your menu
What a difference a day made
And the difference is you

THE END

Note to readers: Thanks very much to all of you who stuck with the story to
the end.  I hope that you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing
it.