Writer's Notes:
'Real Love' is my personal tribute to JammyJimmy's (JJ) story, 'Threads: The Island'. I give JJ credit, because credit is due, for this story and for my own inspiration and entrance into writing. 'Real Love' is actually the first story I wrote, even before 'Tale of Two Teens', my first published story.
As I was writing this story way back when, I was hoping JJ would be the editor. Having been unable to make contact with him, I have been reluctant to release it. Some say JJ has passed away, but I don't know. JJ, if you read this and want this story removed, please contact me. Several readers have relayed to me, both publically and privately, that they would like it released.
Therefore, 'Real Love' is an unauthorized, reimagined rewrite and sequel to JJ's story, 'Threads: The Island'. The general storyline in JJ's story is embedded in this story. Several of the character names have been changed because this is my story. Anyone who has read JJ's story will identify the characters quickly, starting with my main character, Bradley Weber, formerly known as Kyle Watson in JJ's story.
This story is long, but tolerant and filled with several emotions. If you stick with it, you will experience euphoria, happiness, sadness, sorrow and it will make you horny. You'll be disgusted, pissed off, scared and you'll grieve, cry, frown, smile and sometimes, you'll laugh, I hope.
'Real Love' starts off slow, but gains speed with age. Feel free to leave comments about what you like and what you dislike about the story. Feedback is a good thing for those writers who want to know what reader's like and dislike about their stories.
Please don't be mean in the comments because those that put in many hours over a period of several months, and thought into designing and writing these stories don't appreciate it, nor do they deserve it.
I do hope you enjoy the 'Real Love' series. Just don't forget one important detail -- it's fiction. Please do give us 'not so professional' writers a little slack.
JJ, wherever you are, whatever you're doing, fair winds and following seas my friend.
Let the saga of Bradley Weber continue...
MDSW
* * * * *
Julian works his upper body again, mercilessly in his enthusiasm, and more than once, Brad feels like quitting. Eventually though, he makes it to the warm down and trembles through the last of the exercises before stumbling back up to the suite, drenched in sweat.
Kelly has made her first notable advancement in her relationship with Brad so she's eager to do something nice for him.
This time, when he finally makes it to his bedroom, Kelly has a hot bath waiting for him, filled with salts and other fragrance stuff that she assures him will ease his sore muscles. When she leaves the bathroom, Brad removes his clothes and slides into the greenish blue water.
The hot water feels like heaven and he lays there for a moment with only his fingers visible on either side of the bath above the colored water.
"How's that?" Kelly asks, re-entering the bathroom.
She sits down on a drawer unit and opens up a binder, placing it on her lap.
Brad rolls his eyes at yet another moment in the last couple of days where she's been in the bathroom with him when he's naked.
"We should get a workstation put in here," he teases.
"Yeah. Not so much a hot desk... a wet desk," she chuckles.
Brad gives her a tired smile.
"The bath is refreshing. Thank you for that, Kelly. So relaxing."
"No problem. We're going to try and fit Sara in later for a massage before you go to bed too, but we'll see how the evening is going."
Brad nods, sliding himself a little farther down in the hot water.
"What's in the binder?"
"Funny you should ask."
Brad knows he just screwed up. He smiles not knowing what he's in for this time.
"It's a draft of the press release. Casey emailed you twenty minutes ago saying he had a call from a reporter at work. He asked to be put through to you, but your phone is transferring all your calls to his desk, so he got the call. Said he was asking general questions about you, nothing too specific, but they wanted details of your current business trip and how to find you."
"Fuck," Brad mutters, sitting a little more upright and wincing as his muscles protest. "So, the press has my name already? What about Peggy or Stacy?"
"I haven't heard anything yet, but it's only a matter of time. Probably hours. If not, it'll break tomorrow."
"So what's the plan then?"
"We issue this release, stating that Danny Packard's last will and testament was read yesterday to his benefactors, three children he had with his wife, Karen, twenty-three years ago, who were given up for adoption following Karen's death. The three children, Bradley, Peggy and Stacy have since been informed and are currently residing on Mr Packard's private Island, meeting with legal and business teams. Tomorrow, they will be attending the private funeral of their father with a number of select guests. We expect a statement will be issued by them early next week."
"Just like that?"
"Yep. Nothing too committal, as far as the business is concerned it's a fairly sensible press release, with nothing dramatic, no big announcements and it shows you're getting advice too. From a personal perspective it doesn't really give much away about either of you, but we'll put a few photographs of each of you up, and leak them a little info. Stanford Business graduate, successful writer, professional photographer, that kind of thing. It will turn into a media circus shortly after that."
"You seem pretty relaxed about it," Brad notes.
"We've got good people who know how to deal with the media. Want to hear the bad stuff now?"
"That wasn't it?" Brad asks, frowning unhappily.
"Nope. When we release this to the press in an hour, later tonight there'll be ex-girlfriends, colleagues, people you went to school with and people you've never heard of in your life getting interviewed on TV, online and in print. Some of it might hint at facts, but the rest of it will generally be bullshit made up by desperate journalists or twisted by their editors."
"And I thought today can't get any worse," he murmurs, wanting nothing more than to sink under the water.
A knock comes from the bedroom door.
"Brad!" is heard over the intercom.
Before Kelly can call a response, she shouts, "Are you back there?"
It's followed moments later by her rushed footsteps.
"I'm in the bath, Stacy," he calls, but isn't surprised when her head pops through the arched doorway a moment later.
"Oh," Stacy says, seeing his head floating in the colored water. "You're in the bath."
"Well spotted. So I assume you've heard then?"
"About the press release? Yeah."
She shakes her head.
"Not that. This."
She flourishes a piece of paper at him.
"Can you read it to me please," Brad says, sighing. "I don't think I can lift my arms."
"Oh. Right. You've been working out."
Stacy sits down on the edge of the bath and lifts the piece of paper up. Just after that, her assistant, Nikki, sticks her head in the doorway.
