by John Simpson
Praise for JOHN SIMPSON
Condor One
“…a brilliant story of ‘what if’ and one I highly recommend.”
—Literary Nymphs
“If you like books with thrill-a-minute plots, stories about political wrangling, and tales with sexy men falling in love, then may I suggest you look no further than John Simpson and Condor One. What a rush!”
—Dark Divas Recommended Read
Talons of the Condor
“…a definite page-turner.”
—Night Owl Reviews Top Pick
Out of the Gilded Cage
“This is definitely a read now book.”
—MM Good Book Reviews
Badges
“If you enjoy M/M relationships, this is a very well written book and I recommend it highly.”
—The Romance Studio
BOOKS BY
JOHN SIMPSON
Condor One
Talons of the Condor
Condor and Falcon
Out of the Gilded Cage
Condor and the Crown
Alex and Clayton
Badges (Anthology)
Def Con One
Irish Winter
Jack and Dave
Murder Most Gay
Task Force
The Rent Boy Murders
EBOOKS BY
JOHN SIMPSON
The Barracks Affair
The Beach House
Carpathian Intrigue
Fairy Tale
Four Grooms and a Queen
The Ghosts of Stanton Hall
Naval Maneuvers
Pirate Booty
All available from
DREAMSPINNER PRESS
http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com
Copyright
Published by
Dreamspinner Press
382 NE 191st Street #88329
Miami, FL 33179-3899, USA
http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Alex and Clayton
Copyright © 2012 by John Simpson
Cover Art by Anne Cain [email protected]
Cover Design by Mara McKennen
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the Publisher, except where permitted by law. To request permission and all other inquiries, contact Dreamspinner Press, 382 NE 191st Street #88329, Miami, FL 33179-3899, USA
http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/
ISBN: 978-1-61372-429-3
Printed in the United States of America
First Edition
March 2012
eBook edition available
eBook ISBN: 978-1-61372-430-9
Dedication
To Robert C.,
a man I greatly admire
who is also my best friend.
Chapter One
IT WAS a joyous occasion in the Anderson household on the night of July 10, 1953. A baby boy had been born into the family. He was named Clayton, after his grandfather, and both mother and son were doing fine. There were already a total of three sons and a daughter, and later, Margaret Anderson remembered thinking that with their new son, five was enough.
It was time to concentrate now on raising her children, and for her husband, Darren, to work hard for a better future for the kids than their parents had. Seventeen days later, the Korean War ended, or rather, hostilities ceased. People had a more positive attitude about what the future would bring. A shimmer of hope hung thick in the air, and Merrimack, New Jersey was a good town to grow up in.
Happiness was the order of the day on September 8, 1954, when a son was born to grateful parents in Belford, New Jersey. As the mother held her newborn, Jennifer and Harry Winston beamed with pride at their one and only child. They were getting to the age that they weren’t sure they would ever have one, so when Jennifer became pregnant, she practically lived cushioned by cotton balls for the next nine months.
After serious debate, Mr. and Mrs. Winston finally decided to name their son Alexander, or Alex, and they were determined that he would have the best life had to offer. Money was not an issue in the Winston family, and the baby boy was in danger of growing up spoiled, as often happens with an only child.
As it happened, the Anderson and Winston families lived only five miles apart in New Jersey. Belford and Merrimack were small suburban towns that were just two of many bedroom communities. They were typical middle- to upper-class enclaves where the schools were usually located in the same community in which the people lived, making busing unnecessary in that part of the state. However, the people of Merrimack had chosen to use the Belford school system, which had a fine reputation, instead of building their own. The school was large enough and by utilizing the student population from both towns, was almost filled to capacity.
As Clay and Alex grew up one grade apart without ever meeting, they did all the things that kids in the fifties and sixties did. On Friday or Saturday nights, everyone went to the high school for the weekly dance, or sock hops as they were called. Here, the first real interactions on a social level began to occur between girls and boys of all ages, and social skills were learned and refined over time.
Unfortunately, the problem of bullies was common at these dances, though it was not in day-to-day school. A boy had to learn how to fight or how to run very fast if he didn’t want to get beat up.
Both Clay and Alex chose to run when they could and fight like hell when they were cornered. Neither boy enjoyed violence. It was against their nature and the teachings of their parents. But both eventually got tired of running, and slowly they learned to stand up for themselves. This was a lesson that would serve them the rest of their lives. Another thing these two boys who didn’t know each other had in common was a feeling that they were somehow different.
The two boys grew up along parallel paths that diverged here and there. Alex went into the Cub Scouts and then into the Boy Scouts when he was old enough. While Alex was learning the art of tying knots, camping, and socializing with the other boys, Clayton kept his nose in books. He didn’t play sports, and in spite of the incessant ranting by his least favorite uncle about how all boys should play sports, he was quite content with the adventures to be found in his books.
One of the things Alex discovered was boys. By high school, he had already figured out that he had no interest in girls beyond friendship, but he knew he had to act like he did. He even forced himself to make out with a girl on a school trip so that the other boys would see it and think that he was like them. But that play came to a screeching halt when the girl put her hand between Alex’s legs and he jerked away in revulsion.
From that point forward, he stopped trying to make himself or others believe that he liked girls. He had his friends who were girls, and they would dance together at the dances, but they knew what Alex had already discovered about himself: Alex was gay.
Alex found he could have sex on camping trips with a surprising number of other boys. It seemed that sex among guys on their own was quite common, and Alex found himself sought after for his oral skills. One boy named Paul used to invite Alex to stay the night at his house all the time. Paul knew that Alex would blow him as soon as the lights went out, and he took advantage of it. And who could blame a horny sixteen-year-old?
Clayton ignored sex altogether. He always maintained that he was straigh
t and saving himself for marriage, but he got bullied anyway. Clay took a lot of hell from the other boys, especially in gym class. The locker room and shower time were particularly frightening for him. He knew he would be picked on, called a fag, and ass-snapped with towels. Fortunately for Clay, only a couple of the guys were serious bullies while the others just went along with the pack. Neither the gym teacher nor any other teacher in school seemed to notice when it came to the guys picking on Clay. If someone in authority did witness an incident, it was dismissed as “boys will be boys.” This unwillingness on the part of the adults to acknowledge the problem made school a living hell for Clay at times.
Alex was in a different gym class than Clayton and knew very little of what happened to him three times a week. While some kids teased Alex and snapped his jock strap, the guys who were getting oral sex from Alex made sure the situation didn’t get out of hand. It wasn’t so much that they were protecting him because he was a source of sexual relief, but more from the fear that Alex would reveal the names of his partners. No one really wanted to be seen as soft on the fags, but Alex remained somewhat protected.
With all the trouble in their lives, somehow Clay and Alex survived. Finally, in 1971 and 1972, graduation day arrived, and Alex and Clay received the piece of paper that stated they had done what they needed to do in their classes. They were free of public school with its many dangers for the kid who is different. Not incidentally, they had also successfully run the gauntlet of teenage male hormones.
At this new crossroads in life, both young men had to decide in which direction they would go. Clayton opted for college as his parents wished, while Alex enlisted in the Marines, even though it meant almost certain deployment to Vietnam.
In the Marines, Alex excelled in making his body and mind harder and tougher. They taught him how to rely on himself, how to fight, and how to cooperate with others to accomplish a common mission. In many ways, the Boy Scouts had prepared him for basic training. And once again, Alex found himself in a barracks-style living situation where the other men all talked about sex, girlfriends, and what they would do on their first leave. Alex had to tread carefully in conversation, playing the pronoun game and hoping he didn’t slip up.
One of the principles taught in Marine basic, along with a myriad of other things, is that you don’t lie to or steal from a fellow Marine. In essence, Alex modified the truth but didn’t outright lie. Paul, his most favored friend and sexual partner, became Paula. When it fell upon him to tell of his sexual exploits, he told the story of how his girlfriend Paula convinced her parents to allow Alex to spend overnight visits with her.
He changed the facts to suit the situation, and it worked. His only real concern was going on leave together because he knew the first thing the guys wanted to do was get laid. He decided it was pointless to worry about it, and that he’d deal with it when it came up.
Aside from that one sticky situation, the Marines taught Alex to be proud and self-confident, both areas where he needed improvement. These lessons would serve him well the rest of his life.
After two tours in Vietnam, where he earned the Purple Heart for being wounded in combat and a Bronze Star for that same action, he returned home, and after another year, left the Corps. It was a most difficult decision since not only did he love the Marine Corps, but he had loved a couple of Marines along the way. One he found in Vietnam, but Max was killed in a mortar attack. The loss of his friend Max tore his heart to shreds and was the main reason he refused to re-enlist for another tour of combat.
A decorated veteran at twenty-two, he found himself back on the streets of his New Jersey hometown.
While Alex learned the hard lessons of love and war, Clay enrolled in college, got a deferment, and worked his ass off to maintain top percentile grades. When he graduated, he had a bachelor’s degree in library science, and he took a month off before looking for a job. His father had died and so it was only him and his mother, Margaret. He didn’t feel right moving out on her now that she was all alone, so he decided he would live at home.
“You don’t mind, do you?” Clay asked.
“What? Mind that you’re gonna live here with me? Of course not, darling! If you moved out, I’d be so lonely. Sure I have friends, but it’s not the same without your father here. No, this house is just too big for one person,” Margaret replied.
“Good. The house is paid for, so I’ll pay the taxes and insurance along with the utilities. Is that fair, Mother?”
“None of that’s necessary, Clayton. Your father left me well off, thanks to insurance. You live here for free, and I’ll hear no more about it. It’s settled. In fact, you can have the entire second floor since I’ve moved to the bedroom in the back of the house on the first floor.”
“I won’t live here for free. I’m a grown man now and can afford to support myself… well, I can when I find a job. Let me pay the taxes and insurance. I have to contribute!”
Margaret sighed. “You’re just like your father: pig-headed! Fine, if that gives you some silly sense of being a man, then pay the taxes and insurance. But that’s it! Now, while you’re taking a month to yourself, you’ll have time to arrange the second-floor rooms the way you want. Make a living room out of one of the larger bedrooms. After all, you might want to entertain a girl some evening. That part of your life is none of my business, so you do as you see fit. I just don’t want to run into some naked woman roaming around down here late at night.”
“I seriously doubt that’s going to happen, but agreed. You wanna go out somewhere inexpensive for dinner tonight?”
“Yes, on the condition that I pay, and I choose the restaurant. You can drive.”
“As you wish, Mother.”
Over the next few weeks, as his mother had suggested, Clayton converted the second floor into his own private haven. He made a living room out of one of the larger bedrooms, stocked the second-floor library room with books, and set up his bedroom exactly the way he wanted. When it was finished, he was quite happy to have five rooms and a full bathroom all to himself. At one end of the hallway, a window looked out over a portico that was buttressed by two huge Greek columns. A long sidewalk ran down to the wrought-iron fence, with two lions on either side of the entranceway, guarding the house.
Margaret was also happy—happy that her youngest son was staying home while his brothers and sister were spread across the country, living their own lives. If she was lucky, she got two sons and a daughter at Christmas time and was thankful to have that many present.
Clay began a serious job search after five weeks spent setting up his part of the house. For over a week, he searched the only newspaper, the Courier Post. Finally, on a Monday morning, he saw a want ad for help at the local library. As he read the notice, he shouted in glee!
Wanted, assistant librarian to support the head librarian with the operation of the Merrimack Library. Working hours are from 8:00 a.m. until 6:00 p.m., Monday through Thursday, and noon to five on Fridays. Weekends off with benefits. Contact the head librarian for an interview.
Clay read the ad three times to make sure he wasn’t missing anything and that it really said what he hoped it did. He ran to the phone and called the library. Miss Clark, the head librarian, was at a county council budget meeting, and he left a message for her.
“I promise Miss Clark will call you back when she gets in,” the woman who took the call assured Clay.
“Okay, thank you!”
Clay hung up the phone and went down to the kitchen for coffee. His mother was sitting at the kitchen table and noticed something different about him.
“You look all excited. Has something happened, Clayton?” Margaret asked.
“Oh, just an ad in the paper this morning for a job at the local library! I had to leave a message, but I’m trying to get an appointment for an interview.”
“That’s wonderful. Wouldn’t that be something… getting work in your degree field. Well, I’ll say a prayer for you, honey.”
“Thanks, Mother,” Clay said as he took his coffee and headed back up to his living room to wait for his phone to ring. When he set up the apartment, he had a separate phone number installed. Forty-five minutes after he sat down, the phone rang.
“Hello, Clayton Anderson speaking.”
“Is this the Clayton Anderson who left a message for Miss Clark?” The female voice was brisk and businesslike.
“Yes, this is he.”
“This is Miss Clark at the Merrimack Public Library. I understand you were calling for an appointment to interview for the job. Is that right?”
“Yes, the job sounds perfect for me.”
“Can you tell me why you think so?” she asked.
“Well, I just graduated from Columbia University with a degree in library science and was hoping to find work in a public library.”
“Oh, I see. In that case, can you come in this afternoon around three o’clock?”
“Today? Yes, of course. I’ll arrange my schedule so I can do that. Should I just ask for you at the front desk?”
“Yes, that’s right. I look forward to meeting you. Please bring a resume, if you have one.”
“Thank you, see you at three!”
Clay hung up and practically squealed. He ran to his little office that was set up in the library and pulled out a file. He opened the folder and found the ten copies of his resume that he had written and copied at Columbia on his last day. He took out one copy, read it over once more, and pleased, set it aside, and then put away the folder. He checked his watch and saw that he had five hours until his appointment. He had already showered and shaved, so the only thing he had to do was dress and drive to the library, which was only about ten blocks from where he lived. He took all this as a good omen, and three days later he was proved right.
