Date: Thu, 26 May 2005 12:22:05 EDT
From: JuilianJ@aol.com
Subject: REDEMPTION chapter 1 and 2

REDEMPTION
By: Julien

This story is 100% fictional and is by no means depictive of the life of
any person, place or thing.  It contains sexual activities between males
and should only be read if it is legal to do so in your area.  Read at your
own risk and enjoy.  Comments are welcomed and would be very much
appreciated.

CHAPTER 1

	From a distance, it appeared that two men were having a friendly
chat over a pack of smokes.  Their heads were close together, almost
touching, and once in a while, one of them would be seen holding a thin
cigarette between his lips while simultaneously rubbing his hands together
hoping to generate some form of warmth on this bitter, cold night.  But it
was not two men that stood on the corner of Wilshire and Robinson, night
after night, with cigarettes between their lips, their bodies encased in
paper thin clothes and huddled together like football players ready to call
a play.  They were but two boys, ages fifteen and seventeen.  And night
after night, they stood on the corner of Wilshire and Robinson hoping to
meet that perfect stranger that would provide one or both of them the
warmth of his car, in exchange for a quick blowjob or fuck at a cheap rate.
It was something both boys had gotten used to.  It was a living, and to
Michael and Chris, it was the only life they had known for the past year.
	They had not come to the street as a duo.  They hadn't even met
until the bitter winter of 1989 which had swept through New York City,
leaving behind a surge in the number of homeless deaths and the city
scrambling to find shelter for the many remaining homeless people on the
streets.  It was just fate that had brought the two together at the shelter
and it was fate that had kept them connected in some way ever since.  It
was amazing how close they had grown, considering the differences in their
backgrounds.
      Chris had grown up in New York's lower east side with his single
mother and older sister.  His mother barely managed to pay the monthly rent
on their stabilized apartment and when she fell behind in February of 1986,
they were evicted.  His mother shacked up with man after man for the next
few months, shuttling Chris with her while leaving his sister, Tabitha with
her maternal grandmother.  This arrangement left no room for Chris to
settle into any one school for any length of time and after the fifth move,
he dropped out altogether.  Around move number eight, Chris' mother got
heavily into drugs and started prostituting.  Within months, she had turned
junkie and by Thanksgiving 1987, she was dead from an overdose.  Chris
fearing a pickup by social services turned to the streets.  He moved from
bridge to bridge, hoping to stay warm and to avoid pickup by beat cops.  He
stayed in shelters on nights the weather was too harsh but most nights, he
made dark street corners his home.  By December, Chris figured out that he
wouldn't make it to new years on shelter food and begging so he did what
most young boys on the streets did, he turned tricks.  The first time was
the hardest.  The man was fat, inconsiderate and rough.  He fucked Chris
behind a dark alley, where the only lights that could be seen were from the
McDonalds a half block away.  Christ cried that first time and didn't
protest when the man only paid him half of what they had agreed upon.  On
the next occasion, Chris threatened to cut the man's dick off if he didn't
pay him what was fair - the man in fear gave Chris twice what he was asking
for.  The fucking got easier and the physical pain eventually went away but
Chris never again recovered that child like innocence he once possessed.
	  Michael had also grown up in the city but unlike Chris, he lived
in a penthouse suite on the Upper East Side.  His father was a lawyer and
his mother a clothing designer.  Money was never an issue but for every
piece of expensive furniture or clothing that he possessed, love was never
attached to its giver.  When he was seven, his father divorced his mother
and moved to Canada with his mistress.  His mother received a monthly
stipend that should have covered all their household expenses and Michael's
private school tuition but went instead to paying for male companionship
for his mother.  Within a year of his father's leaving, his mother had lost
their home and was now in heavy debt due to her spendthrift ways.  When she
met another man with money who didn't want a child, she sent Mike to live
with his father.  Within three weeks of his leaving his mother, he was
back.  Neither his father knew that he had not moved in with his mother and
her new beau nor was she aware that he was no longer under his father's
care.  He stayed with different friends for days at a time until one friend
introduced him to prostitution.  Having been accustomed to a certain
lifestyle, Michael was able to adapt his talent for fucking into a
profession.
	It just so happened that they met outside the shelter at 111th
street in Harlem, both vying for a bed that cold's winter's night.  With
one bed left, they offered to share and as they say, the rest is history.

2004

	Chris looked over the file in his hand and flinched.  It wasn't
that he had expected a miracle overnight.  No, that would have been
foolhardy, but after months of publicity, luncheons and speeches, he had
expected their donation folder to be at least filled with more than nickel
and dime checks made out by ladies of the church.  He and his staff had
tried to put the centre out there as much as they could.  And it had
apparently worked as they had a waiting list of over 300 but the target
audience, the rich and the wasteful, seemed to have missed the memo as the
only check that was large enough to make a dent was from Walter, his lover.
He just wanted to throw the file in the garbage and burn it but he
couldn't.  The checks in there at least showed that someone cared about the
kids out there.  He cared.  He closed the folder and put it in his desk
drawer.

"Chris, its Walter on line one."  It was the voice of Cheryl, a perky high
school volunteer who drove seventeen miles out of her way everyday to
assist at the centre.

"Thanks Cheryl."  He replied, trying to sound as upbeat as possible.  And
while he might have been able to fool Cheryl into believing everything was
fine, he couldn't fool Walter.

"Bad day hun?"  Walter questioned as soon as Chris said hello.

"Yeah.  Check turn out wasn't so great.  We're short by at least four
hundred thousand.  So much for advertisement.  I feel as if I've wasted
half the budget on ads without getting the results."  His voice was somber
and at that moment, he would give anything to be at home with Walter,
holding him, pretending as if they were the only two people on earth.

"You tried babe and that's all anyone can ask of you.  I think you did well
considering what you had to work with.  You took the centre out of the
gutter and practically rebuilded it from the ground up with only a small
part time staff and look at it now.  You're able to run it with just a
handful of part time volunteers.  You should be proud Chris.  I know I'm
proud of you."  And it made his heart swell with pride to hear his lover
say those words.

"You're great Walt.  You know just what I need to hear and you say it.  I
appreciate it."  Chris could practically visualize Walter sitting at work,
smiling to himself, happy that he had made Chris' day.

"I try hun.  I won't keep you but I just called to find out the check
totals and to see if you've considered option B."

Chris groaned at the reminder of option B.  He and Walter had bounced ideas
off of each other, ideas which they dubbed option B.  if they had by some
small act of God, managed to raise enough money, option B would become null
and void but if not, as was the case now, Walter had suggested that he get
in touch with his old pal Michael Fitzgerald and see what connections he
could bring through.  Chris knew enough about Michael's cronies to know
that that crowd did not help rift rafts but he had a hard time convincing
Walter of that.

"Come on Walt, don't bring down my mood.  I don't even want to think about
Mike right now."  And he didn't.  Mike was his past, their friendship was
his past.  Mike had changed and had made it clear that his connections to
Chris be kept hush/hush, something Chris took offense to.  They had gone
through a shit load of things together, too much things for Mike to just
brush it and him off.  But Chris guessed when you had a rich boyfriend
parading you on his arm night after night, it paid to only keep high class
company.

Walter broke into his thoughts, "One of you has to be the bigger man and it
might as well be you Chris.  And besides, this isn't about you two being
chummy with one another.  It's about the kids who need your help.  You
promised to do what you could, to do all you could to make sure the centre
succeeds."

He knew Walt was right but he didn't want to admit it.  He needed Mike and
his connections.

"Fine, fine, I'll call him and see what he says, but if he brush's me off,
I'm not begging."  And he wasn't going to.  His days of begging were far
behind him.

"Don't beg, just call.  And be a little friendlier than you were the last
time.  I don't think calling him 'a sell out asshole with a used up dick'
is going to make him eager to assist.  Be nice."  And with that, he was
gone.  Chris replaced the receiver in its cradle and thought about their
last conversation for a fraction of a second before he shook all thoughts
of it and Mike out of his head.  He would get to that later, after lunch.
He replaced them with thoughts of Walter and what the man had come to mean
to him.  Look how far they had come and how their relationship had evolved.
Just thinking that made him smile.  He closed his eyes and not for what
seemed like the hundredth time, he thought back to that first night they
had met.

1989

He and Mike had once again found themselves homeless and trickless due to
the bitter cold that had beseeched the city.  They were lucky to be even
holding the two cups of coffee that they managed to snag from a street
vendor who had turned his back while his intended customer searched his
satchel for change.  They had run as fast as they could, coffee cups in
tow, while the vendor cursed at them in his heavy Middle Eastern accent
when he realized what had transpired.  Now it was time to decide once again
what they were going to do for food.

"We could go downtown and see if we could drum up some customers.  Some of
the guys told me that even when it's cold they've been able to get picked
up."  Mike spoke in the voice of a child, full of uncertainty, but feeling
the need to prove himself.  He was two years younger than Chris and far
less experienced, but what he lacked in age and experience, he made up in
query.  He always had his ear to the ground, always listening for a good
tip that would pay off.  And tonight, they could use all the good tips they
could get.  But Chris knew better.  This cold would hold off even the most
seasoned of johns.

"Nah.  It'd be a waste of a fare and besides, I'm too hungry to work.  We
won't find anyone out tonight.  Not even the beat cops are on patrol.  We
may as well pack it in."

 Pack it in meant head down to the shelter at 111th Street.  They usually
had hot soup and bread and if you were lucky, an extra blanket or sweater
that they were willing to give away.  The idea sounded good to both of them
and they used the last dollar they had to jump on the subway going uptown.

As expected, the place was packed, but at least they still had their doors
opened.  That was what they had liked about this place.  The doors were
always open, no matter how full the place got.  They found a spot by a
utility closet and began disrobing.


"Better leave those on," a bearded man warned, "coats are disappear
tonight, with it being so cold and all."  They heeded his warning and kept
their coats on.  The line for soup seemed a mile and a half long and Chris
groaned at the prospect of having to wait in it, but lucky for him,
volunteers were walking around handing out cups of the hearty broth.

"Here you go.  Its beef and veggies.  It's pretty good."  The volunteer
that had handed them both a cup was a man in his early thirties named
Walter.  He had volunteered at the center when time and schedule allowed
it.  His day job as an electrician kept him busy, especially during the
winter and summer months but his nights were usually free.  Both Chris and
Michael regarded the man and mumbled 'thanks' before accepting a cup and
hurriedly chowing down on its contents.  Walter watched them with a gleam
in his eyes.  It had made him feel good to help kids like these, kids that
had nowhere but the streets to call home.  He recognized both boys as
regulars of the Wilshire and Robinson corner which he drove past everyday
and every night on his way to work and back home again.  He had no
disillusions about what they did out there or who they did it with.  It was
a way to make a living and it seemed these boys had very limited options.
He had once been tempted to stop and offer both boys a ride to the shelter
but feared his helping hand may have been seen as an intrusion on their
space.  He had seen where boys, who felt they were being told what to do,
turned from shelters, choosing instead to starve on the street than to find
warmth inside these walls.  He chose instead to let the kids make their way
up here on their own and then try and show them an alternative to the
street life.  It was occasions like these when the weather turned
treacherous that he worried the most.  He also worked harder during those
times in hopes that his caring nature would imprint itself on some of the
youngsters, making them want to come back.  Looking at the two boys as they
feverishly drank down their soup, he couldn't help but think about what
they probably had to endure night after night on the streets.  and he was
grateful that tonight, even if it was just for tonight, they had made their
way to the shelter, to him, to someone who cared.

"Good?"  He asked when the taller of the boys had finally looked up from
his cup.  Chris wiped his mouth with the back of his hand self consciously
and nodded.

"Want some more?  Maybe with some bread this time?"  Walter prodded.  He
could see the need for more food in the boy's eyes.  He wanted to make that
need go away.

"Yes, please, thanks.  And maybe some for my brother."  Chris responded.
Walter smiled at Chris and Chris smiled back.  That had been their first
interaction.  Walter had fetched them both more soup and this time as they
drank, he had engaged them in conversation.

"Been a bad winter hasn't it boys."  He said, stating the obvious.  The
weather seemed a safe topic and not at all intrusive.

"A bitch."  Responded Chris, looking at the man with a less guarded
expression.

"That's why we try to set up as many beds and hot soup kitchens as we can.
We can't keep everybody here but at least we can try and make passing
through bearable.  We have extra beds if you and your brother want to
wait."

Chris thought of social services and shook his head.  They couldn't be
busted, not after all they had been through.  It would make the fight seem
for nothing.

"We're fine."  Stated Chris, averting his gaze.  Mike had looked at Chris
and then the man with pleading eyes.  Walter read that look and tried his
best to sell them the offer.

"If you stay just one or two nights, then social services won't have to be
called in.  You'd be like a face in the crowd.  I won't ask you about your
situation.  I want to help you and I don't expect any return favors."

The boys regarded his offer for a minute and once again, Chris declined it,

"We're fine.  We have a place."

They left the minute Walter turned his back.  He didn't see them for the
rest of the night but two nights later, they were back, trying to make
themselves as small as possible in a far corner of the room.  It was the
orange, paper thin coat that had given Chris away and his skinny sidekick
only confirmed that it was indeed the duo.  Walter once again fetched them
cups of soup and hot bread, except this time, he ushered them into a quiet
back room where they could eat in peace without the reality of the outside
world trying to seep in.

"I'm glad you decided to warm up here.  I'm Walter by the way."  He held
out his hand to Chris and then to Michael.  Both shook it tentatively,
unsure if they could trust this man.  But something about the way he held
Chris' hand made Chris want to trust him.

"We want to stay but you can't call social services on us."  Chris stated.

"I won't.  I can't unless you tell me that you're under the age of
eighteen."  And even though he knew the truth, he never let on.  The
streets were hard enough when you were an adult, but being a kid must have
been unbearable.

"We're legal."  Chris stated, even though they both knew it to be a lie.
They didn't talk further that night or the next night or the next night.
The boys came to the shelter at night, had a hot cup of soup and shared a
mattress with warm blankets.  It must have been a month later when Michael
had started to run a high fever.  There had been a break in the
temperatures and it had been an opportunity for them to make some money.
The streets seemed too flooded with johns looking for a quick release and
both boys had made the extra effort to make themselves standout among the
hoards of young boys and men that took to the street.  Michael had not been
into it tonight though.  He had not been into it many nights.  Not since
they had taken up residence at the shelter on a some what semi permanent
basis.  He wanted to spend the chilled night with a cup if hot soup, bread
and a warm mattress.  "But this is how we get fed.  We can't always depend
on the shelter."  Chris had protested.  "If we don't make money tonight,
who knows when we'll get another chance."  And despite his concerns about
losing their spot at the shelter, and the warm chill that seemed to resound
in his body, he went with Chris anyway.  Now here they stood among many of
the other kids, watching, waiting for someone, anyone to pick them up.

"Hey kid, you selling?"  A man in pea green suit had walked up to Michael
and had made his advance.

"You a cop?"  Michael responded.

"No."

"We'll, whadoyouwant?"  The words came out in one jumbled mass before
Michael could stop them.

"I wanna fuck you, bareback.  I'll pay you twice your fee, but I wanna
video tape it."  His request wasn't new but Michael wasn't into it, he was
never into it.

"I don't do nothing without a condom."  He stated, trying to get rid of the
stars that seemed to be dancing in front of his eyes.

"Not even for a $200.00?"

It was a lot, more money than they would have both hoped to make in one
night.  Michael was on the verge of maybe saying yes when Chris stepped in.

"He said he doesn't fuck raw.  A matter of a fact, he doesn't fuck at all.
He'll blow you but if you wanna fuck, it'll have to be with me."  It was
times like these when Chris' brotherly nature would come out.  He was older
than Mike and had to watch out for him.

"You're too old kid.  I need fresh faced and you ain't it."

"Well get out of here you sick fuck!"  The man looked at Chris with
disgust, flipped him the finger and walked on down the line, finally able
to snatch up a kid that looked both younger and inexperienced than both of
them.

"Wrap it up!"  Chris managed to shriek to the kid before they drove off in
the man's car.

The crowd seemed to thin out after that and after an hour or two, only a
handful of boys remained on the corner.

"Chris, I don't feel so hot." Mike moaned, leaning his head against a wall,
sweat pouring down his face.  Chris took one look at him and knew that
something was wrong.

"Where does it hurt Mike?"  He asked, feeling his friend's forehead.  Mike
touched his temples, forehead, arms, legs and chest.

"Can you walk to the subway?"

Mike nodded, and with that, they once again made their way uptown.  Walter
noticed that something was wrong off the bat without either of the boys
saying anything.

"Lay him down on the mattress in the back.  Cover him up with blankets and
stay with him.  I'll be right back."  And with that, he ran out of the
room.  The boys walked into the room and Chris did as he was instructed.
Walter returned and carried with him a bag of ice and a thermometer.
Alongside side him was another man.

"He's fine, he just needs to rest."  Stated Chris, regarding this new
stranger and not liking the vibe he was getting.  He didn't trust this man,
not like how he had trusted Walter.

"He's not fine Chris.  He might have pneumonia.  This is Phil, another
volunteer, he's a doctor.  He won't hurt Mike or you."  His words seemed to
ease the tension in Chris for he backed away from Mike allowing the
stranger to work on him.

"Chris, come outside with me for a second, please."  Chris looked at Walter
through hooded eyes hoping to detect some hidden agenda but when he didn't
see one, he followed him through the glass door.

Once outside, Walter spoke candidly to Chris for what seemed liked the
first time.  Their was no fear that he would chase him away this time.
Chris would stay because Mike was here.

"You're a tough kid aren't you?"  He asked, looking at Chris with
admiration.  It shocked Chris that someone could admire what he did, what
he had to do.

"I do what I have to."

"And you look out for Mike too.  You watch out for him.  I've been watching
the two of you and it makes my heart melt to see how you watch out for that
kid.  You guard him like he's a precious jewel or something, like he's your
brother."

"He's a kid, ya know.  He shouldn't have to be doing this shit."

"And neither should you."  Walter had finally said what he had wanted to
say for the longest while.

"It's all I know." Chris stated matter of factly.  It was all he knew.

"It's not all you are though.  If you had a chance to go to school, to
learn something other than the street, then I know you would succeed.
You're a smart guy Chris, too smart to be doing this."

Walters' expression had softened to a point where to Chris, it seemed like
pity.

"Ha!  school?  Education?  You think all that shit matters to me?  I'm
barely able to make it day by day so how the fuck would a manage a long
term plan like that?  You gonna pay my way?"  His voice was mocking and
cruel, but he was angry.  How dare this man try to change his reality.  How
dare he show him an alternative and not the way to get there.  Fuck him!

And as if reading his mind, Walter spoke up, "yes, I'll pay your way and
I'll pay Mike's way too.  I'll set you up with housing and I'll put food in
your mouths and all I ask for is one thing in return."

Chris knew to expect this.  He wanted Walter to be different but he never
expected it.

"And what's that.  A fuck from both of us, or one from just me.  You wanna
invite Phil over too for a foursome."  His voice held contempt and every
word he spat was like the venom from a snake.

"No.  What I want from you is a promise.  A promise to make a decent go of
it.  A promise that no matter how hard it gets, you won't give up and go
packing unto the street again."

Chris stood there rooted to the spot, unable to move.  This seemed too good
to be true and yet still, he couldn't feel out the deceptiveness in it all.

"Why do you wanna help us so much?  What's in it for you?"

"Nothing."  Walter stated mater of a factly, "There's nothing in it for
me."






	Thinking back to that conversation, Chris could only smile.  If it
hadn't been for Walter, he and Mike may not have made it.  Walt had managed
to bump them to the top of the shelter list, providing them with a warm
place to call home.  That first month had been the hardest for them.
Having to share space with other people, feeling as if they were charity
cases for the city.  But after they had managed to wrap their heads around
the fact that they were no longer on the street, living there had gotten
easier.  Walter helped Chris get registered in a GED program that helped
him get the equivalence of a high school diploma.  He had helped Chris
study for the exams and had been there in the crowd with Mike when Chris
had walked across that stage to receive his diploma.  He had gotten both
boys into counseling programs free of charge and had signed them both up
for team sports, hoping to give them an outlet for their anger.  He had
gotten Chris his first job as a drug store clerk and had worked with him on
college applications.  He had gotten Mike back into school and had helped
him graduate with a decent g.p.a. and a partial scholarship to Emerson
University.  And when he thought they were ready, he put the down payment
on an apartment for them to share near his own.  Walter had taken a chance
on two kids he didn't know and without any guarantee, he had bet they would
succeed.  Chris had a lot to thank Walter for and he would never allow
himself to forget it.  And unlike Mike who could easily put his past behind
him, Chris could never see himself forgetting a history which was both good
and bad.  His history made him who he was today and forgetting that history
meant forgetting all his achievements and most importantly, forgetting
Walter and all that he had done for Chris, and that, he refused to do.




	He finally gathered his strength and punched in the numbers he had
come to loathe.  He hated Mike for treating Walter the way he did and he
hated him for forgetting what they had been through and he hated him for
never acknowledging their friendship after he had gotten his life together.
He was happy that Michael had survived his time on the streets.  He would
have never wished him otherwise.  But turning his back on a friend,
pretending that what they had suffered through together did not exist was
just too much for Chris to just forget and let it be.  Michael should have
never forgotten.



CHAPTER 2

The man picked up the phone on the first ring and brought it to his ear.

"Hello."

Chris was tempted to hang up but he knew Walter would chew him out for
being a coward so he didn't.  He would tolerate Benjamin Stiles for as long
as it took him to get Mike on the phone.

"Ben, is Mike there?"  He tried to keep his voice pleasant and upbeat but
he had heard himself speak and there was nothing pleasant and upbeat about
his tone.

"He can't talk right now Chris."  Ben stated the irritation in his voice
obvious.

"Well it's important."  In fact, it could wait.  Chris could wait forever
but he knew he had to do this some time and now was as good a time as any.

"Hold on."

Chris heard the phone being out down and then Ben shout, "Michael, its
Chris.  I don't know why you even bother keeping in touch with him.  The
guy obviously has no class..."

The conversation trailed off and Chris had to stop himself from hanging up.
Ben was Mike's stuck up, high class boyfriend.  They had met a few years
ago and had been cohabitating ever since.  Ben knew nothing about Mike's
history and Mike was in no hurry to inform him, something that annoyed
Chris to no end.  He wondered how Mike could deny such a big part of
himself and on top of that, justify his actions as being reasonable.
Before he dwelled any more on it, he had to mentally remind himself the
reason why he was calling and geared himself to speak to Mike.  He wondered
though, if in the last few years he had been speaking to Mike, or if it was
just an imitation of his former friend.  The Mike he knew wouldn't say and
do all the things that he was doing now.  He had to remind himself of that
when Mike picked up on the other end.

"Can't talk long Chris, what can I do for you?"

Chris couldn't help but think how polite he sounded, how polished, as if
he'd been taught to walk the high class walk and talk the high class talk.
It was sickening.

"I won't keep you.  I just wanted to...well Walter thought I should ask you
if maybe you'd be interested in making a donation to the center and maybe
getting Ben and some of his friends to do the same."  And as an
afterthought he added, "It's not like they don't throw enough money away on
pointless shit.  This is for a good cause."  He couldn't stop himself from
adding that little part.  Walter would call him on it later when he
recounted this whole sordid conversation to him.

"I don't think so Chris.  Ben's not interested in this and neither are his
friends."

"Well what about you."

"I don't think so.  I'm still paying back student loans and..."

"And you're ashamed poor, little, Ben might find out about your sordid past
and he'll take away your credit card.  Cut the bullshit Mike and be a man
about this.  Why don't you just tell the fucking truth?"  That was it.  He
had blown it.  Niceties seemed to have flown out the window at that moment
and Chris was like a runaway train with the brakes off.

"You're afraid what Benjamin might think of you if he found out, aren't
you?  He already knows about me and you're afraid what he might think if
you start associating yourself with me and the center.  You're a fucking
coward, so admit it!"  His voice displayed his anger and it didn't take a
second for Chris to get the response he had been expecting.  After all,
Mike could only keep his classy act in place for only so long.  After all,
you can take the boy out of the street but you can't take the street out of
the boy.

"You know you have some nerve talking to me like that.  Who the fuck do you
think you are?  I don't have to listen to this shit coming from you Chris
and I'd appreciate it if you and your aging sweetheart kept the fuck away
from me.  Stop calling and harassing me and stop trying to use my
relationship with Ben as a fucking ATM.  I don't give a fuck about you, the
center or Walter so leave me alone."  And with that, Mike slammed the phone
unto its cradle.

Chris was not surprised, rather, he was amused.  He wondered what dear, ole
Benjamin must have been thinking having witnessed Mr. High and Mighty's
little temper tantrum.  He was tempted to call back just to hear the
irritation in Mike's voice but decided against it.  He refused to waste
another minute on that ungrateful son of a bitch and his owner.  There were
many other things that needed to be done, things that would make a
difference.  He picked up his extension and asked Cheryl to bring in the
center registry.  He would hate to have to go home to Walter and tell him
they had to make due with the funds that they had.  If there was one semi
rich donator in the registry, he would find them.








"What was that all about?"  Ben had questioned as soon as Mike had hung up
the phone.  The look on his face was one of condescension and it made Mike
feel foolish for his outburst.  He should never have allowed Chris to wind
him up as he did.  It just wasn't worth it.

"Nothing, I'm sorry.  I just lost my cool there for a moment."

"Lost your cool?  You were behaving like a street vagrant.  For a second
there I thought...never mind.  I don't know why you were ever friends with
someone like that.  I can't see what you two ever had in common."

"We were never friends.  He was just someone I knew."  It was a lie of
course.  Everything out of his mouth about Chris these days seemed to be a
lie.  It was never an easy thing to do but he was willing to lose a few
nights sleep over it if he would wake up and continue to live the life he
was living.  This pent house was gorgeous.  They had a pool to themselves
right on the roof and the view was phenomenal.  How could he ever think to
trade this in for anything in the world?  Chris would never understand.
His mind was too simple to grasp such a concept.  No, if it didn't have to
do with the center, Walter or their past, it didn't matter.  Chris didn't
mind being reminded on a daily basis about his life on the street.  He
could face the fact that he had fucked for money and still go home and
cuddle with his honey with no regrets.  Mike couldn't do that.  He never
thought much about those days unless Chris brought it up.  It made him sick
to think about what he had to do to survive back then.  It disgusted him to
think that it was still going on to a new generation of youngsters.  But
why should he have been responsible for someone else's problem.  Why should
he have to uproot his life to help strangers who he didn't even know.  And
besides, what was in it for him.  A pat on the back?  His name on some
plaque?  Fuck it, it wasn't worth stirring up drama for simple recognition.
All he wanted was to fade into the background.  He wanted to be able to
live his life with Ben and not have to worry about someone recognizing him
as a trick.  He wanted to be able to erase the memories of those years he
was on the street and replace them with the memories he had told Ben.
Memories of month long yacht rides with his father, attending boarding
school in England, traveling the globe with his mother.  He wanted all of
that to be true, to be his memories, but they were nothing more than
implants that he wished were real.  But Ben was none the wiser.  He had
taken Mike at his word and he would be damned if he would let someone like
Chris crawl out of the woodwork and ruin this for him.  He deserved the
life he was living and damn if he was going to let Chris or anyone else
pull the rug from underneath him.

"For someone you just know he sure calls here and acts like he has a right
to be calling here and speaking with you.  I don't like the guy."  Ben had
broken into his thoughts, something that allowed Mike to clear his head.

"I heard about this center he runs, the one for homeless gay teens, and
I've got to tell you it makes my toes curl.  This is the stain on gay
culture.  Everyone looks at these places and thinks this is what we're all
about.  Prostitution, vagrants, criminals.  They look at those groups and
just because they happen to be gay, they associate them with us.  It
sickens me to think that my taxes are going to a place like that.  What a
waste.  What about the arts, music, culture for God's sake.  We need more
of those, not shelters for prostitutes to rest up before their next big
job.  To think what this country is coming to..."

Mike made the excuse that he had to pick up groceries for the dinner party
they were throwing tonight and made a quick exit.  He couldn't stand there
another minute and continue to listen to Ben's tirade about prostitutes
being the stain on American society.  And even though he would never admit
it consciously, subconsciously, he found Ben's remarks hitting too close to
home.

"Ok, well pick up some chardonnay and some dessert, maybe truffles."

And even after he shut the door to the apartment, he could still hear Ben's
voice prattling on about the party and what menu he thought would be more
refined.




No matter how much he tried to separate his old life from the new one, it
still seemed to Mike that they kept on meeting at intersections and one
day, he feared they would eventually cross paths.  He had had a close call
a few months back when he had run into a guy he and Chris both knew from
back on the corner.  His name was Trevor and in 1989, he had been one of
hundreds of prostitutes displaced by the weather.  He took to Chris and
Mike like the proverbial moth took to a well lit flame.  They were never
chummy like that but they were friendly enough to have a chat every now and
then about something other than how much was made that night, how many
tricks were taken home and the number one question of all, how good/bad was
the sex.  When Chris and Mike left the street life, they left Trevor with
it until that day last year when he bumped into him at the grocery store.
He didn't recognize the man at first because of his obvious accommodation,
a wheelchair.  But when the man called out to him and asked him how he and
Chris were, he knew it had to be someone who knew them back then.  Ben had
just been an isle down from him and he feared past and present meeting
under florescent lights and boxes of crackers so he hurriedly took Trevor's
number and promised to call.  He of course never did, but that encounter
was enough reason to switch supermarket chains.  He had been so careful
since then, trying his best to go only where he knew his past couldn't
follow, high priced chain stores, money pits and the likes.  Of course he
also assumed that nobody from his past had made it big.  He imagined
himself as being the only dignified one of the lot to get out and actually
move on up.

He continued to walk along the sidewalks, on his way to market when he
heard it, the catcall from across the street and then the not so subtle
offer to 'make him feel real good'.  He didn't even turn his head and of
course, the catcalling didn't stop.

"Hey babe, let me suck on that dick for you.  You have never had a suck
like this, I promise."  The voice bellowed.  And this time, he did turn.
There was a lone boy on the corner, obviously a trick from his comments,
but not obviously so by his dress.  He had on what looked like a polo shirt
and cargo shorts, nothing indecent about them.  There were no holes in the
crotch or no secret sample passage for his ass to be seen.  Mike realized
he was staring and turned away, continuing his walk.

"Come on Hun, help a guy out.  I'll make it worth your while."

Mike stopped at this and turned.

"Why don't you find a job kid and stop harassing people just trying to go
about their business.

The kid smirked at that, "this is my job."

Mike shook his head and continued on his way, making a half hearted attempt
to put the boy out of his mind, but only succeeded in making the boy's
image more prominent in his thoughts.  He was good-looking and definitely
confident and Mike could easily see himself getting into a debate with him
but he was a prostitute, a stain on gay culture as Ben had put it and Mike
refused to be drawn into that.  He momentarily forgot about the boy and
started his shopping.

"Fancy meeting you here."  The words frightened him, but he made himself
turn around and acknowledge the person behind him.  The kid was within
touching distance now and if Mike leaned closer, he was sure he'd be able
to feel the kid's breath on him.

"You following me?"  He asked unintelligently.  It was an obvious answer to
a question that didn't need asking.  Of course the kid was following him.
Why else would he be here?

"No, I just decided I needed some," the kid paused, picked up a package of
expensive imported coffee and looked at it, "Bolovia coffee from Botswana.
It's really good."  They both knew this to be a lie but Mike couldn't help
but cracking a smile.  This kid had balls.

"Don't you have customers waiting?"  He asked, continuing his shopping and
feeling strange about not reprimanding the kid for following him into the
store, after all, this was a place where one of Ben's many acquaintances
might see him.

"You hurt me so.  Anxious to get rid of me that bad.  I want you to be my
customer."  The kid clutched his hand to his heart in mock despair and
smiled as he spoke.

"I have a boyfriend kid.  A boyfriend who I love and who I'm committed to."

"Oh you do.  No worries, just thought I'd try my luck.  I'd still suck you
for free."  And with that, the kid put back the coffee and turned, walking
out of the store seconds later.

Mike's heart raced.  He couldn't believe he had held such a public
conversation with the kid and had not felt one ounce of shame.  He knew he
should have been ashamed.  If Ben or someone Ben knew had seen it, they
would have thought he was behaving like a slut.  He all of a sudden felt
dirty.  He picked up the remaining items he needed and walked out of the
store.  He consciously began looking for the kid but decided that he must
have left with a customer or another trick.  He should have figured that
much.  After all, they were just stains on gay culture.











Chris allowed himself to relax into Walter's embrace as he recounted his
conversation with Mike.  Walter laid there on the futon with Chris between
his legs, listening and feeling oddly disappointed at Chris at his handling
of things.  He could understand Mike's need to move on and to forget the
past.  Mike had been through a lot, more than what he had told Chris, but
Walter knew.  He knew about the crosses that Mike had to bare and he
understood why he felt the need to keep that part of his identity hidden.
But he didn't say any of this to Chris.  He let him prattle on about how
much of an asshole Mike was and how he couldn't believe they were ever
friends.

"I mean I saved his ass so many times back then.  And god knows I did a lot
more work than him and still gave him half of what I earned.  He makes it
seem like he had the burdens of the world on his shoulder, like everything
was all on him when it wasn't.  And can you believe that little shit had
the nerve to say he didn't give a fuck about me, the center or you.  And
after all the things you did for us hun.  That ungrateful son of a bitch."

Walter found himself reaching his limit of passive participation.  Chris
had said his say and now it was his turn.

"Chris, you're going to hate me for saying this but I'm going to say it
anyway.  I think the both of you were out of line.  You for going off at
him and his decision to run his life the way he sees fit, and him for
returning the favor.  You both need to do some growing up if you ask me."

Chris was surprised by Walter's candidness and a little upset.  Walter was
supposed to take his side, not Mike's.

"Come on Walt.  You can't really think that.  Look at all the things you
did for us.  Ok, so forget about the fact that the center needs money and
forget the fact that he wants to keep his past a secret.  Look at how he
treats you.  If it weren't for you babe, we would probably have died on the
streets or gotten AIDS or turned into criminals.  You made us able to be
proud of who we are.  Or at least you made me proud to be who I am.  He
could at least be grateful for that."  Chris held Walt's hand as he said it
and later, he kissed it.  He needed to have Walter believe that he did his
best in getting funds for the shelter.  He needed Walt's reassurance that
he was proud of him.  Proud of the decisions he was making with his life.

And it was as if Walt could sense Chris's need to be reassured.  He
squeezed Chris' hand in his and brought it to his lips and he couldn't help
but think how much he loved this man.  They had been through a lot
together, Chris especially, and he wanted nothing more than to make all the
hurt and doubt that Chris felt go away.

"You can't control how someone else reacts to a given situation hun.  Mike
went through a lot, as did you.  You both suffered more as children than
most grown folks do, and if this is his way of dealing with it, let him be.
As long as he's happy, let him be."  His words seemed to calm Chris as he
released his vice grip on Walter and relaxed into his embrace.

"I love you Walt, I love you so much and I won't ever forget what you did
for me.  You didn't have to do any of those things but you did and you
saved us.  You took a chance and you saved our lives.  Mike might be able
to forget that but I never will.  You're too important to me for me to ever
forget that."

There was a silence that hung in the air now, but it was an agreeable one.
Chris felt his eyes get heavy and before Walt knew it, Chris was fast
asleep in his arms.  He pulled the blanket that lay beside him and put it
around him and Chris.  It was bound to get chilly later with all the
windows open and he didn't feel like leaving the confines of his lover's
embrace.  It was rare that they had the opportunity to just sit back and
relax.  Usually, it was on the go from morning till night with Chris at the
center most days and Walter running his own small electricians business in
Westchester.  They managed to take a month time off around Christmas time
but other than that, they had to consciously make time to spend with each
other.  'It was easy making time for Chris though' thought Walter as he
lightly ran his hand through Chris' hair.  Chris made it easy for Walt to
love him.  He had made good on his promise to give the clean life a go and
he had adapted fairly well and fairly easily to it.  And there had never
been a time where Walter had to doubt his decision to help Chris and Mike.
It was simply a matter of doing what he knew was right.  Why he chose those
two was another matter.  It occurred to him later that maybe he had helped
them for all the wrong reasons.  Maybe it was his attraction to Chris or
his need to 'father' children.  Either way, he never regretted investing
his time and money into those two.  Even now, seeing Mike's reaction to
him, he would never wish to change anything about the past, except his own.
What he never told Chris or Mike wouldn't hurt them.  He wondered though if
Chris would be with him if he ever found out the truth.  Would Chris be so
willing to criticize Mike if he knew his own lover was harboring secrets
from his past?  Sometimes Walter wanted to come clean and tell Chris the
truth.  He wanted Chris to know about what he had done all those years ago,
what ultimately drove him to do charity work, but he didn't dare.  It
wasn't important anyway.  What was important was they had settled into this
comfortable life and that they were happy.  As long as they were
comfortable and happy, Walt didn't really care about anything else.






	Mike couldn't sleep.  It was as if every time his head hit the
pillow, he saw Chris standing there, calling him a coward and then turning
to Ben and telling him the truth.  In his dream, Ben would then turn to
Mike, walk up to him and snatch his wallet away.  He would then snatch
Mike's watch, clothes and ultimately his shoes, until Mike was left wearing
his ratty old briefs.

"You make me sick."  Ben spat at him in his dream before walking out the
door.  Then their penthouse would disappear and Mike found himself on a
street corner without clothes, shoes and money.  He would turn to his right
and see hoards of kids.  He recognized one of them as Trevor and another as
the kid who offered to blow him.  Turning to his left he saw Chris and
Walter staring down at him, laughing.  Chris calling him a coward and
Walter just standing there, staring, laughing.

He once again woke up with a sudden jerking movement.  He could feel the
sweat on his brow and felt as it dripped unto his neck and down into his
t-shirt.  The feel of it made him nauseous.  He looked over to his right
and found that he was relieved to not have Ben beside him tonight.  He
didn't know how he would have explained all of this to him.  Ben didn't
take too kindly to being roused in the middle of the night, not when he had
to leave the penthouse at 6AM some mornings to catch flights to Milan,
Rome, or wherever his career took him.  Being a big time architect left
little room in his life for shotty mornings and he made sure to tell Mike
right off the bat that his sleep was priority number one.  Mike had been
hurt when Ben had said that but the Rolex had made up for it.  Since Ben
took care of all the bills and Mike, Mike figured he could overlook Ben's
sometime uncaring nature.  He knew Ben cared about him.  Why else would he
invest his time and money on Mike if he didn't.

Mike pulled the covers off him and planted his feet firmly on the ground.
Looking over at the digital clock he saw the eerie glow of 3AM and sighed.
He had nothing much to do tomorrow so he could sleep in late but he was
expecting Ben back from Italy late tomorrow evening and he wanted to have
everything ready for him.  The party they had thrown last night had been
successful.  At least for Ben it was.  He had gushed to Mike on the way to
the airport that he had made some good contacts for a proposal he had in
mind.  Mike pretended to be listening but was really just giving Ben the
once over, reminding himself how lucky he was to have this man in his life.
He had nodded at the right time and had added in a few 'great work hun'
when it seemed appropriate, but his mind was tuned out then, just as it was
tuned out now.  He wanted to forget about Chris and all the shit he had
said to Mike that afternoon but he couldn't.  So he did the only thing he
could, he gave into those urges to think about Chris and the past.  He
would only allow himself to do it for a few minutes but maybe if he did, he
would sleep a little better, maybe the nightmares would finally start to go
away.




They had been living at the shelter for about a month and a half then.  To
Mike, it had seemed like the longest month and a half of his life.  He
hated having to share such a small place and having to hide what little
cash he had but things weren't always bad.  He found himself being able to
sleep the whole night through and waking up without the distinct feeling of
frost bite on his fingers or toes.  He liked having the security of falling
asleep and not having to worry about keeping one eye open for beat cops,
gay bashers or, other teen prostitutes looking to steal his money.  He
liked having this temporary haven to call his home.  He even found himself
looking to Walter as more than a volunteer.  He had become like a god in
Mike's eye.  He made sure that both Mike and Chris were well fed and
clothed.  He even managed to convince Chris and him to stop working on the
streets - that, he was the most grateful for.  Walter seemed to take to
Chris more than he did to Mike and at first, it made Mike wonder if maybe
there had been a trade off.  It wouldn't have been the first time Chris had
traded goods for services.  But Chris had denied it and Mike found it
easier to just accept the way things were turning out.

"So, what grade are you in school Mike?"  Walter had asked one evening a
month and a half into their stay.  Mike had found it strange that Walter
hadn't automatically assumed that he had dropped out as had everyone else.

"I was in the 8th grade but I don't go to school anymore, no time and no
money to pay for books.  And besides, there would be too many questions
about my parents."

Walter had smiled sympathetically and had took to rubbing Mike's clothed
arm in a comforting way.

"You've been through a lot Mike, more than any kid your age should ever
have to go through and I'm sorry for that.  But know this, there's still
time for you to recover somewhat from this.  You can still go back to
school, finish your education and be whatever you want to be."

Mike had laughed, "You sure are optimistic.  You're like the only guy I
know who would actually believe two prostitutes could be doctors and
lawyers.  Chris said you were a saint."

"I'm not a saint, just a man who wants to help out where he can and I see
that what you and Chris both need right now is someone who actually gives a
damn." Walter had paused before continuing,

"I want to be that person for you guys.  I care, and I want you two to know
that I'm here for you both."

Mike had just nodded at Walter's words, trying hard not to give too much
accreditation to them, that way, if Walter turned out to be something he
wasn't, Mike wouldn't be too disappointed.

"Thanks, it's appreciated ya know.  It's sure different though.  Living
here I mean.  It's not like the streets, I feel safe here."  And as if an
after thought, Mike added "I know one day were gonna have to leave, but at
least for know its good to have a place to come home to."

Walter had looked at him quizzically and then spoke, his face softening a
bit.

"The shelter is not a forever solution Mike, but there are other options.
I don't know if Chris mentioned the talk I had with him to you."

When Mike shook his head, Walter continued,

"I had offered to give you both the opportunity to go back to school.  As
for housing, if the shelter makes a request for you to leave, I am more
than willing to take you both into my home, free of charge.  I don't expect
a trade off, but I do expect you both to do your best."  Walter had smiled
at him, giving Mike the impression that he was being sincere.  But that was
all it was, a smile.  A promise and smile.  People made promises all the
time without keeping them.  And he knew nothing about Walter that would
guarantee that he wouldn't withdraw his promise if push came to shove.
Walter didn't know them and they didn't know him, not well enough yet to
base all of their salvation on his shoulders.

But Mike never relayed any of these fears to Walter.  He just politely
smiled at him and shook his words off as just another empty promise.  But
to his surprise, he had been wrong.  A few weeks later he and Chris found
themselves displaced and in need of a home with the streets as their only
alternative.  And like a knight in shinning armor, Walter had showed up and
offered them a room in his modest two bedroom apartment in the city.  And
as expected, Chris had taken the lead and had turned him down,

"Thanks a lot Walter but we got it covered.  It's going to be getting
warmer soon and we'll be able to find a place to crash."  And just like
that, Mike and Chris had found themselves back on the street.  Chris did
his best to support them, finding shelter in an old abandoned building, and
using what little money he had, to buy them a decent meal every know and
then.  But eventually, the money ran out, their shelter was discovered,
forcing them to find another residence, and when the weather became cooler,
they had no other alternative but to resort back to tricking.  Mike didn't
want to go back to that and he voiced his opinion to Chris.

"I'm not doing that shit man!  I'm tired of living like this!"  And while
he tried to keep his anger under wraps, it managed to come out anyway.

"You think I actually want to do this shit Mike.  Fuck, what other choice
do we have?  Would you rather sit and watch us freeze and starve to death
or would you prefer to be sipping on some hot chocolate and eating a burger
every now and again?"

When Mike didn't answer, Chris continued his tirade,

"I'll understand if you don't wanna work.  And I'm not gonna force you to.
But be realistic man, if you don't work, I'll have to.  If we wanna eat,
I'm gonna have to fuck."  And that was that.  Mike never brought up the
argument again.

But someone above must have heard Mike's silent prayer to help them out of
this jam for not even an hour after he had had that conversation with
Chris, Walter had showed up and pleaded with both of them to come with him.
At first Chris had been defiant, and then downright rude, but Walter never
gave up until he had both boys in the back of a cab, riding towards his
apartment.

They had both kept their mouths shut until they stepped out of the cab and
in front of a manned building on the Upper East Side.  Walter had greeted
his door man, who nodded at both boys, and together they had ridden the
elevator to the 6th floor.

"Nice building man, you sure they want our kind staining the carpet."
Quipped Chris, only managing to garner a stern look from Walter.

"You are no better or worse than anyone who lives here, got it!  You are
just as good as these people and no matter what it takes, I'm not letting
you leave here until you come to the same conclusion."

And that was how it had started.  Walter never let Chris or Mike degrade
themselves verbally or did he allow anyone else to do it in his presence.
His apartment was a nice size and the larger of the two bedrooms he had
given to them to sleep in.  The bed was more than capable of holding them,
and the adjoining bathroom was more than adequate.  He gave them free range
of the kitchen on the condition that they picked up after themselves and
that they did their share in keeping it clean.

And if it all seemed like a dream when Walter signed Chris up for GED
classes and registered Mike for the ninth grade, Mike sure as hell woke up
from that dreamlike state.  For both of them, getting an education was a
five day a week job that took up most of their time.  This not including
the swimming lessons that they took down at the Y on Saturdays and Chris'
new job as a drug store clerk which he did 3 afternoons a week and all day
Saturday.  Within a few months, Chris had graduated the program and had
signed up for classes at the community college.

The years after that seemed to just fly by so fast.  Before they knew it,
Chris had a B.S. in human services, Mike was attending Emerson University
and they were living in their own apartment, Chris proudly able to pay half
the rent while Walter contributed the other half.  All during this time,
they had been receiving counseling and had come to terms with what they had
been forced to do years earlier.  And while that helped, Mike could never
get that feeling of distaste off him.  Periodically he would look in the
mirror and be disgusted with what he saw.  This made it hard for him to go
out and form meaningful relationships that didn't include sex as the be all
and all.  Chris on the other hand seemed to have no problems there.  After
they first moved in with Walter, Mike started to notice that the two of
them seemed to have a peculiar bond.  It wasn't anything overt that Mike
noticed, but rather the subtle signals that they sent each other.  A look
here, a smile there, and even though Mike had questioned Chris about it.
His friend would always shrug and tell him to mind his own business.  He
didn't know the details of them getting together, but when Mike came back
from a four year stint at Emerson, he found that Walter and Chris had
developed an all out relationship that no doubt included sex.  He didn't
say anything to Chris about it and vice versa.  And in his opinion, if
Chris wanted to fuck Walter as gratitude payment, so be it.  Years later he
would discover that that wasn't the case but back then, he thought
differently.  Back from Emerson with a degree in architecture and a new
job, Mike made the decision to move out, only telling Walter and Chris that
he needed space.

Of course the time they spent together became less and less, and eventually
after being out of college for six years, they lost contact all together.
Mike was willing to take the blame for that as he was the one who shut both
Chris and Walter out of his life.  He had thought about reconnecting but
then he met a well known architect by the name of Benjamin Stiles and
that's when a lie was born.  He severed all times between himself and the
past and that unfortunately included Walter and Chris.  After moving in
with Ben, he revamped himself into the arrogant, snob that he had become
and never looked back.  He enjoyed being catered to and not to have to
worry about working if he didn't want to.  In fact, he worked on a
freelance basis which wasn't very often, and often spent his free time at a
swanky sports club on the east side.  And he could have easily continued
living the way he had been living if not for the minor irritation of
Chris's call.  It had been less than a minute, but it had done its damage.
And because of it, he had once again found himself entrenched in the past,
unable to shut it out completely.  And after being unable to fall asleep,
he gave up and headed for the shower.  Maybe then he could pretend to wash
away an erasable history.

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