Edited by: Pretty Randy
It is strongly recommended that readers check out chapter one before reading this continuation.
*****
The next several months saw Jeff and Howard settle into a kind of exploratory phase. Though nominally they maintained separate bedrooms, they were often together overnight. Their sexual interactions were satisfying, but not confining. Jeff had not taken other lovers since they met, but Howard had; (one of each sex). On those occasions, Howard and Jeff behaved as roommates, not lovers, though their affection for one another was obvious to everyone.
Jeff quit his position at Topel, Foreman, taking a much more responsible and demanding position at one of the companies owned by Howard. He felt no shame in this, for, though he was an incurable romantic, he was also a realist who knew that success in life, especially in business, often depended largely upon who one knew. Likewise, he had also given up his efficiency apartment on the near west side, content for the time being, to share Howard's posh digs. He had chosen to continue biking to work on clement days, needing the exercise to stay trim.
About one A.M. on a frigid December morning, Jeff and Howard sat close beside one another before the roaring gas fireplace, enjoying a snifter of Felipe II, talking gently about their future, touching one another affectionately, kissing now and then. Suddenly, Howard's phone rang sharply; an unusual occurrence at so late an hour.
"Hello," Howard said. "Wait. . . What?. . . Who? Neal. . . Neal Downs? Yes? My god! What happened? Is he?. . . Yes. What? Take it easy. Nice and slow. Do you need me to call 911, an ambulance? You sure? Yes, okay. Wait for me. Don't let him leave under any circumstances. I will be there in about twenty minutes." Howard held up a hand like a traffic cop, halting the barrage of questions Jeff was about to fire off. He switched to the in-house com line to buzz Roger. "Hello Roger. Sorry to disturb you at this hour, but I need the Escalade right away. And, Roger, could you please accompany me too? I may need your help. Yes. Yes, it's an emergency. I'm sorry... I can't tell you anything, just that it is very urgent. Yes, okay thanks Roger. Five minutes? You are so great Roger, thanks a lot."
Turning to Jeff, Howard began to explain, moving swiftly to get his coat, hat and gloves; all the accouterments necessary in Chicago in December. "Get dressed if you are coming along, no time to waste. That was the manager of a local club, a sort of friend of mine. Neal has been attacked; mugged I guess, at the least, beaten up. I don't know exactly what has happened, and I don't care. He sounded as if Neal could barely talk. I'm going. You coming?"
Jeff hopped around on one foot, then the other, struggling in his newly awakened fog, to don enough clothing for the Chicago Loop in December. In November, Harold had bought him a genuine Borsalino fedora to wear with his thirty-five hundred dollar topcoat. The hat fit him perfectly and provided protection from the harsh Chicago winter. He had not told anyone how debonair he thought he looked in his matching topcoat, hat and leather gloves; he thought everyone would think he was old fashioned, but he found it hard to pass his reflection in a store window without grinning.
Jeff assumed, but did not ask, whether Roger's presence foretold trouble, perhaps violence, but he was game for whatever happened. Now that he was an important member of an important firm, so well dressed that everyone admired his good looks, Jeff's self-confidence had gone into overdrive. He also, in a sort of twisted way, felt responsible for anything that might happen to Neal; his beloved David. After all, his David could not be having problems if he hadn't been rescued.
The Escalade pulled up in front of what was a night club called 'Berlin'. Howard and Roger jumped out of the SUV and walked rapidly through the door, leaving Jeff lagging. He scurried to catch up, but was stopped by the bouncer and asked for identification. He was also told he had to check his precious Borsalino "Look," he tried to tell the huge doorman, "I don't even want to drink. I am with those two men. We have come because a friend has been hurt, beaten up I think."
"Oh, I see, you are . . . with Howard, uh, all right then...okay, fine, trust me then. My name is Murray. Before you leave, find me and I'll return your hat. I'll make sure to take good care of it. Go ahead on in. If you can't find your friends, tell the bartender to take you to Max, tell him Murray said so. Go on."
Jeff pushed and bullied his way through the dense crowd, searching for any sign of his friends. As he reached the far end of the bar, he saw a small cluster of people gathered in one corner. Pushing several people rudely aside, he worked his way quickly to the center of the crowd. Suddenly the last resistance vanished and he found himself at the epicenter of a small circle. He turned and there was Neal, his David, lying on a table. His face looked like chopped meat. His 'David's' normally pale complexion was now ashen, nearly purple. His lip was split and his eyes were rapidly blackening. Jeff felt a cold evil plant itself inside him. He made a silent vow. They had tried to destroy his 'David', and if he ever found them, he would destroy them totally. Jeff couldn't hold himself back, he leaned to hug Neal close.
"Ow," Neal groaned, take it easy will ya Jeff? I am only human you know."
Howard and Roger were tied in a tight circle with the manager. Jeff, not about to be left out, pushed his way into the circle. "I didn't see the attack, but my bouncer saw several men running away immediately afterward, so he can probably give you an accurate description. Are you sure you don't want me to notify the police. You really should, for insurance purpose and legal matters."
"We've spoken to the victim," Howard said. "He has made it very clear. He wants as little publicity as possible."
"Well this sort of thing has been happening with disturbing regularity all over Boy's Town. Bringing charges would help catch these guys and put them out of business."
Howard looked at the man as if he had just sprouted horns. His voice calm, but low, menacing, he said, softly, "You needn't worry about that. Whoever did this will soon be out of business. Count on it!"
Jeff could see the tension in Howard's cheek muscles, clenching his teeth tightly together. He bent over Neal's still form. "Neal. . . Neal," he whispered softly. "You have to stay awake. Are you okay to walk to the car?" He turned to address Howard, "I think we should carry him to the car, I don't think he should try to walk until he has been thoroughly checked. Also, he probably should not go to sleep right away. Someone needs to be with him all the time. That would be me! No discussion, no alternatives, and Howard?. . . "
"Yes?"
"I heard something in your voice. Whatever you are planning, if you find these guys, I need to be a part of anything you do. Don't fuck with me on this, please."
"I promise to include you. Now please, this is not the time or place to discuss it."
Turning to the crowd and speaking loudly, Howard declaims. "I need four strong men to gently carry this young man to my vehicle, the job pays one hundred dollars apiece.
When Howard's words sunk in, there was no dearth of volunteers. He chose the four he wanted. "Okay, gently now lads, don't drop him. My car is right out front." Turning to the manager, he said, "Thanks for your help and for calling me. Here is my card. Would you please give it to your bouncer Murray? Have him contact me as soon as he rises in the morning? I will compensate him for his time and trouble."
Jeff stayed close as the four big burly gays slowly and carefully, carried his wounded 'David' to Howard's Escalade. He was close to puking at the thought of the pain and humiliation Neal had suffered, vowing to himself once more, that someone would pay the price for this brutality.
Once in the vehicle, Buddy was busy on the phone while Roger drove. In the approximately nine minute ride back to Howard's place, Jeff heard him make arrangements for a hospital-type bed, a visiting nurse and consultation with a Doctor.
***
Except for four broken ribs and a mild concussion, Neal's injuries proved to be miraculously minor. Over the next three days, Jeff did everything for Neal; never leaving his bedside. He took short cat naps so he could watch Neal's progress. The nurse checked in twice daily for vitals; otherwise Jeff took care of Neal. The thought stayed forefront in his mind that Neal had tried to kill himself once already and that they were on the 69th floor. Jeff tried to gather as much information about the incident as he could, despite Neal's reluctance to speak of it. The broken ribs, he had so far been able to ascertain, were the result of multiple kicks, delivered to Neal, curled in fetal position on the blacktop alley while two men attacked. Jeff's balls retreated into his body at the thought; his mind went black with ire.
Neal, inert for several days, was left to stew in his own juices, trying to reconstruct what had happened to make him reject this warm and safe place. It seemed to him that he had merely asked a simple question, one designed to protect himself, to decide if Howard were a predator. Life was so goddamn complicated. A little more than a year ago he had been in high school, rambling along without a care in the world. "Be honest with yourself," his inner voice scolded, "in high school you lived in fear. Remember those shower room erections you became so adept at hiding? Remember all those sneaked looks at other ("Damn it! I am not fucking gay!"), men? At their cocks? The fear of being caught and branded a cocksucker? Remember all that fitful jerking off to half remembered dreams?"
Howard had been right. It was only himself that Neal had to fear. That's why he had thrown himself in the lake. Suicide is the only way to run from one's self. The quick way he had attempted, the slow alternative was alcohol and drugs and risky behavior. Certainly no one here would hate him, fear him for his urges. The only person to fear was himself. "It's worse than that," his conscience spoke again, "you are making others fear you; acting like a dick to people who have only tried to help you. You owe Jeff an apology. For Christ's sake, Neal, the man saved your life! And maybe you owe Howard an apology too; especially Howard. And now. With this. Talk about self-destructive behavior." Now he had also to forgive himself. "Why oh why had I gone to that damned bar?" he kept asking himself, though deep down he knew the answer. "What had drawn me there?" Neal put his face in his hands and wept then, wept loud and openly. Wept for lost childhood, lost innocence; long, hard, wracking sobs that shook him until his sore ribs ached with the effort, until his sorrow held no more tears.
The sound of Neal's weeping carried down the hall to where Jeff sat sipping coffee, taking a break from his caregiver chores; a break from Neal's obdurate silence. His arms ached with the desire to hold Neal, to comfort his pain, but, understanding the need to fight one's personal dragons, he suffered separately, silently.
Neal spent two more days in obdurate silence.
