Golden Boy Two-Volume Set

by Claire Thompson

Johnny had to laugh at that! Eric’s extended family, many of them still living in the old high-rise brick projects in the Bronx, had barely blinked when Eric had come into his mother’s crowded kitchen, announcing in Spanish, “Please welcome my very dear friend, Johnny Wilson.” His mother had grabbed Eric in a bear hug and kissed both his cheeks before turning to Johnny with a smile that lit up her dark brown eyes—Eric’s eyes.

  “Any friend of Eric’s gets automatic Puerto Rican visa status here,” she laughed, holding out her hand to Johnny. “Call me Consuela. And from what I’ve been hearing about you, young man, I may soon be calling you son!” Her eyes twinkled as Eric groaned and slapped his forehead.

  “Mama, don’t embarrass Johnny!”

  “You mean don’t embarrass you, son,” she laughed. Sobering she added, “Now to important matters. Are you hungry?” Eric made introductions to various cousins, aunts and uncles as Consuela ladled their plates high with a delicious-smelling stew served over fragrant rice.

  Johnny had felt more at home around that welcome table than he’d ever felt at his parents’ place. Even a phone call with his mother had been strained. He’d been pleased she’d finally called but the warmth they’d once shared was missing, the easiness lost. “Let’s get together for lunch soon,” she had said. Not “come home for Sunday dinner” but “let’s meet for lunch”. The underlying message he took away was he was no longer welcome in his parents’ home, though to be fair he knew it was because of his father. Johnny’s mother had rarely been willing to step in when Frank was on a tear, ranting and raving about Johnny’s latest failing. Johnny would see the pain in her eyes but, he realized now as an adult, she had been as scared of Frank as Johnny and powerless in her own mind to protect him.

  Still the phone call was a start and as Eric had gently pointed out, it wasn’t only Ann’s responsibility to restart the relationship. She had reached out and he needed to do the same.

  The train lurched to a stop beneath the Brooklyn neighborhood and Johnny and Eric ascended into the warm summer sunshine of the late afternoon. As they walked along the streets toward their destination, Johnny resisted the urge to take Eric’s hand. Unlike the Village, Johnny knew the people of this neighborhood would be much less tolerant of that sort of open display of affection between two men. Instead he fingered the little heart-shaped padlock at his throat.

  “This is it,” Johnny said, pointing toward a block of narrow brownstone row houses. As he spoke Jack and Emma came bursting through door of one, calling, “Uncle Johnny! Uncle Johnny!”

  They stopped short when they saw Eric, six-year-old Emma shyly looking up at him while four-year-old Jack wrapped his pudgy arms around Johnny’s leg. Johnny leaned down, scooping them both up into his arms. “Eric, meet my Aunt Emma and my Uncle Jack.” Emma laughed delightedly while Jack screwed up his face in confusion before taking his cue from Emma and laughing as well.

  Sandy stood at the top of the stoop smiling as the four of them ascended. “You must be Eric,” she said warmly as she ushered them into the house. “Billy will be right back. We were out of beer.”

  “A crime in the Wilson family,” Johnny said, grinning toward Eric.

  “Come sit down. We have a surprise for you, Johnny,” Sandy said, smiling nervously. They followed her into the living room where Ann sat crocheting. Johnny felt his heart lurch, his mind a whirl of mixed emotions. Johnny had always been close to his mother, closer than either of the other boys. Not seeing her all these months had torn something inside of him, something he wasn’t sure could ever be repaired.

  Yet as he looked at her in that moment before she realized they’d entered the room, how fragile she looked, how tired! Her hair was grayer than he’d remembered, her narrow back bent as she focused on her work. Johnny felt a rush of protective love.

  “Mom,” Sandy said, her voice over-bright, “look who’s here.”

  Ann looked up, her eyes still as brilliant green as Johnny’s, her mouth spreading in a wide, genuine smile. As Johnny moved forward Ann stood, dropping her yarn and needle on the couch, opening her arms to her youngest son. As they embraced, Ann caught sight of Eric standing at the doorway, his expression bemused.

  Ann pulled away from Johnny, her hand over her mouth. “Oh my God,” she said softly, her cheeks suffusing with red. “Sandy,” she turned helplessly toward her daughter-in-law, “you didn’t say he would be here!”

  Now Sandy flushed slightly. “Mom, please.” Johnny realized all at once what was happening. Sandy naturally assumed her mother-in-law was reacting negatively to seeing “the gay lover”. She of course had no idea of Ann’s little ploy at Dr. Méndez’s office the month before. And Ann hadn’t realized Eric would be there today, certain to recognize his one-time client “Ann Peterson”.

  Ann stood in the center of the room, her eyes round as she looked helplessly from Johnny to Eric. “I’m so embarrassed. It was such a stupid thing to do. I really had no idea…” Ann began to sway where she stood, her face suddenly deathly pale.

  Sandy looked thoroughly confused. “Mom, what are you talking about? Johnny, what’s going on, do you know?”

  Eric stepped into the room now. Moving quickly toward Ann, he gently took her elbow. “Sit down, Ann. Just take a moment to get your bearings.” He guided her back to the couch.

  “Okay, you can all relax, the beer has arrived!” Billy came into the front door with a case of beer in his arms. He stopped short as he entered the living room, seeing Ann leaning back weakly on the couch with Eric crouched beside her, Sandy standing in the middle of the room with Johnny off to the side, a strange smile on his face.

  “Bro,” he said, nodding toward Johnny. Turning to Sandy he asked, “What’s going on?”

  “I’m really not sure,” Sandy answered. “Hopefully someone’s going to clue us in.”

  Johnny interjected, “Billy, Sandy, let’s go in the kitchen and put away that beer. I think Eric and Mom need a minute alone.”

  Eric sat on the chair next to the sofa once he satisfied himself Ann was not going to faint. Ann turned toward him, her smile weak. “I’m sorry.” She stared at him a moment, her expression so like Johnny’s when he was worried Eric had to smile. In a low, accusatory voice Ann said, “You knew, didn’t you? You let me blather on about my son, knowing all along I was just spying on you! I’m so embarrassed!” She hid her face in her hands.

  Eric leaned over, lightly touching her knee. “Ann, please. Don’t let this distress you. I’m really okay with it. I think it’s quite touching really.”

  Ann looked up at him. “Touching? That I didn’t have the courage to face my own son but instead I spied on his—on his…” she paused, looking for a word.

  Eric supplied, “Friend.”

  “Yes.” She looked grateful. “I tricked you by pretending to have a story, just so I could check you out, see who the pervert was who took the pictures of my boy.” Again she put her hand to mouth, turning away.

  “Ann, I understand your motives were driven by your underlying love and concern for your son. And just so you’re clear, I didn’t know who you were until after our session. That’s why I suggested you see a different therapist. It wouldn’t be appropriate, obviously, for us to establish that kind of relationship.”

  “How did you find out?”

  “Johnny showed me your picture. Pictures from the wedding.”

  “Ah. Well, it was probably the dumbest thing I ever did. I’m very sorry about it.”

  “I’m not. I’ll tell you why. First, it gave you a chance to get to know a little about me when you weren’t yet comfortable meeting me as Johnny’s friend. Second, I think we both know that session, while you had planned to use it as a ploy, had some real impact for you. Issues that matter in your life, things you need to explore. Not just about Johnny’s homosexuality but your own issues with your marriage and how you choose to live your life going forward. Speaking of which, did you ever contact Dr. Gregory?”

  “Yes!” Ann’s eyes shone
for a moment. “She’s wonderful. And you’re right, Dr. Méndez.”

  “Eric. Now I’m Eric, your son’s friend.”

  Ann colored a little but amended, “Eric then. She’s really amazing. I feel like I can do anything when I leave our session. I can even confront Frank! In fact, just the other day when he threatened—” She caught herself, biting her lip. “You don’t want to hear all that.”

  “Only if you want to share it. I’m just glad you’re getting help, Ann. Someone to talk to. Everyone could use that.” He paused, his expression serious. “Ann, regarding Johnny’s photo album—that really was his very private business. I hope you can understand that. It wasn’t something meant to be shared with anyone else. He was deeply humiliated by your discovering it and sharing your knowledge with his brothers. I can only say, his sex life is private as I assume yours is. I hope you can respect those boundaries and appreciate he’s an adult.”

  Ann nodded, again looking miserable. “I’ve thought about it endlessly. Frank and I were wrong to look at his private things and wrong to share it with Billy and Hank. We were just so stunned. We’d had no idea…”

  “I know. And Johnny knows too. He’s missed you terribly. I’m so glad we’re here today. It’s a chance at renewal, a chance to move forward.” He smiled, leaning closer. “What do you say, let’s start over?” He extended his hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Wilson.”

  Ann slipped her hand into his, her smile genuine as she put her other hand over his. “Welcome to the family, Eric.”

  ~*~

  “Why, it’s Johnny Wilson, the golden blond beauty! I have you alone at last.” Albert Miller stepped into the gallery where Johnny sat behind the high draftsman desk at the back of the store bent over a drawing. He was alone on a quiet Thursday afternoon. Sandra had given him more hours and often let him close the gallery now, trusting him to properly catalog the sales and lock up securely.

  Johnny looked up and smiled, stepping away from the desk and moving to the front of the store. He wasn’t quite sure how to handle the remark, not even sure it wasn’t tongue-in-cheek as Albert grinned wolfishly at him. Deciding to ignore it, he said, “We sold another piece today.” Johnny pointed toward a portrait of a young woman painted in vivid primary colors.

  “Oh you sold Melinda!” Albert clutched his chest, his expression mock tragic. “My art is like my children. I know they must fly away from the nest one day but how my heart aches with the loss of each piece!”

  Johnny smiled at Albert’s histrionics. He hadn’t seen Albert, at least not alone, since that fateful night two weeks before when Albert had stolen a kiss. They’d seen each other twice after in Sandra’s presence at the gallery and neither had mentioned the incident. Johnny thought now Albert’s behavior must have been purely motivated by alcohol. Perhaps he didn’t even remember it.

  Johnny couldn’t help but notice how handsome Albert looked, dressed in a white linen collarless shirt open over his dark, smooth chest. His face was angular, the cheekbones high, the eyes large and dark, the lips full, hiding very white teeth. Albert moved closer. “Johnny, when do you get off work today?” He reached out a hand, pressing it against Johnny’s chest in a curiously intimate gesture. The golden hoop at Johnny’s nipple was caught beneath Albert’s palm. Johnny stepped back.

  “The gallery closes at six today. I’m—I’m meeting Eric for dinner.” In fact he wasn’t meeting Eric—Eric had to work late and Johnny planned on cooking him dinner as a surprise when he arrived home. He was going to try his mother’s tuna noodle casserole, something Eric admitted to never having tried to Johnny’s amazement.

  “Why are you like a little rabbit around me, Johnny boy? I’m not going to eat you up. Though the thought has crossed my mind.”

  Johnny flushed and turned away, aware of his rising erection. He loved Eric, damn it! He’d never cheated on a girlfriend and he certainly didn’t plan to start with Eric! He needed to make things clear with Albert once and for all. This flirtation wasn’t something Johnny knew how to handle.

  As he turned around to explain this, Albert was right there, enacting a repeat of the scene in front of the bar, taking the surprised Johnny in his arms and bending him back for a deep kiss. Johnny struggled a moment, his mind rebelling while his body responded. Albert pressed his pelvis against Johnny’s, who could feel his hard member beneath Albert’s soft red cotton pants. Johnny’s own cock rose in response, his lips parting as Albert held him, kissing him deeply, his tongue thrusting in Johnny’s mouth as if he owned him.

  Finally Johnny managed to pull away, his eyes wild, his chest heaving. Albert tried to pull him back into an embrace, at the same time grabbing Johnny’s crotch, feeling the erection that belied Johnny’s protests. Johnny slapped his hand away, stepping back again. His thick blond hair had fallen over his eyes and he shook it back, gasping, “Stop it! Albert, you have to stop! I’m with Eric! I belong to Eric!”

  Albert dropped his arms. “You belong to Eric? Is this mere poetic license or are you saying something altogether different?” Reaching toward Johnny’s throat, he added, “I noticed that the other night. The little padlock. Is that more romantic fancy or does it signify this ‘belonging’?”

  Johnny felt the heat in his face and neck. He turned his body from Albert and answered, “This is all really none of your business, Albert. Listen, I’m sorry if I gave you the wrong cues or something. Of course I think you’re gorgeous, who wouldn’t? But you know I’m with Eric so why do you keep trying to hit on me?”

  Albert looked confused for a moment. “Well, I guess I didn’t realize you were off-limits. What’s a little harmless play between friends? We’d use condoms of course. Safe sex and all that. What Eric doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”

  “It will hurt me,” Johnny said softly. “I’m in love with Eric. To have a fling with you, however casual it might be in your mind, would hurt me immeasurably because it would be betraying the trust Eric has in me. If you can’t understand that, I’m sorry. You’ll just have to accept it.”

  Albert stared at Johnny a moment longer. Then he threw back his head and laughed. Bowing low, he lifted a pretend hat from his head and swept it low like an English lord, the invisible feather grazing the ground. “My hat off to you, Johnny boy, and to your lover. Men of integrity, beyond reproach!” Albert stood, smoothing back his long dreadlocks. “My apologies. Let us remain friends. I won’t apologize for the kiss because it was delicious. And if you change your mind one day, you know where to find me.” He took a little business card from a small display table, thrusting it toward Johnny. It had Albert Miller, Artist with a telephone number beneath it. Reflexively Johnny took the card.

  He watched Albert leave the store, the little bell tinkling as he closed it behind him. He sighed, looking down at the little card. A part of him, a part he couldn’t deny, had responded to Albert’s overtures. What would it be like to have sex with him? Would his cock taste different? Would it feel different as it penetrated him? Was it really true what Eric didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him?

  Johnny shook his head. “I need to talk to someone about this. I need to talk to Eric.”

  ~*~

  Eric took a bite of the gluey, salty pile of noodles, mushy peas, melted cheese and tuna Johnny had heaped onto his plate. It wasn’t inedible but it certainly wasn’t something Eric would have chosen to eat. Yet Johnny looked so endearing, grinning eagerly as he waited for Eric’s decree.

  “Delicious,” Eric pronounced, taking a long drink of his beer in preparation for the next bite.

  Johnny let out a breath. “You like it? It’s not as good as my mom’s. I don’t think I added enough cream of mushroom soup. And I had to use canned peas—my mom uses fresh. I think that makes a difference. Next time I’ll get fresh peas.”

  Eric took another bite. “It’s the best tuna noodle casserole I ever had.”

  “The only tuna noodle casserole, you big dope!” Johnny laughed, taking a bite from his own plate. Eric
felt his heart swell. He would eat a whole pound of this awful stuff if it made Johnny happy.

  Johnny tucked into his platter, scooping large bites into his mouth as Eric pushed the food around his plate, wondering how much he needed to eat to avoid hurting Johnny’s feelings.

  After a time Johnny set down his fork, wiping his mouth with his napkin. “Eric, there’s something I’ve been wanting to talk to you about.”

  Eric felt his gut clench a little. He forced himself to remain calm. Things had been good between them. There was no reason to assume whatever Johnny wanted to talk about was bad news. He waited.

  “It’s about, um, it’s about Albert.”

  All at once the image of the two tall men locked in a romantic embrace poured into Eric’s mind like acid, corroding his calm. He clenched his fork, waiting for Johnny to admit he had fallen in love with another man.

  “He,” Johnny paused, looking nervous but determined. “Well, he kissed me.”

  “I know,” Eric said softly, a little fault line cracking along his heart.

  “You know?”

  “Yes. I saw it. I saw the two of you as I was coming to the club to meet you. I kept waiting for you to say something then.”

  “Oh,” Johnny said, looking down at his plate.

  “That’s why I got you Steve.”

  “What?”

  “That’s why I got another boy for us. Someone for you to play with. I thought maybe if you had other experiences with other men, you might not stray. It was foolish really. I should have known having a boy toy to whip and suck you off wouldn’t be enough for you. I knew it was just a matter of time. I just didn’t think it would be so soon.”

  Johnny was staring at Eric, his expression at first confused then incredulous. “You what?” He sputtered again, “You what? You think because Albert kissed me, I’m leaving you? Is that what you’re saying to me? Is that how little you think of me? Of us?”

  It was Eric’s turn to be confused. At the same time a little spark of hope soared up in him like a lark. “Well, Albert is cultured, handsome, sexy. Who could blame you?”