This Time Around

This Time Around © 2001 Mark A. Roeder

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictionally. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. All registered trademarks mentioned in this book are the property of their respective owners. No infringement is intended or should be inferred. “I Want You To Want Me“ — Cheap Trick words and music by Rick Nielsen. (c) 1977, 1978 Screen Gems-EMI Music Inc. and Adult Music.

Dedication This book is dedicated to my readers who keep me going with their words of encouragement.

Acknowledgments The cover for this novel was designed by Greg H. and Ken. The cover model is Mateo. My thanks to all three for their outstanding work. I’d like to thank those who have proofread and offered their comments on this manuscript. Without their efforts there would be many errors I could not have spotted for myself. In no particular order, I give my thanks to Ken Clark, Ronald Donaghe, Jim Hertwig, and Doug Kendrick. I’d also like to thank the members of the markaroederfans Yahoo Group for all their suggestions. I’d further like to thank for Ken Clark for all the little details he suggested that make the book special and for his work on markroeder.com and the markaroederfans Yahoo group.

Introduction The greatest evil of all is that which masquerades as good. Unfortunately, many of us have to battle with such forces every day. In This Time Around, Jordan and other characters find themselves struggling against just such an opponent. Readers should keep in mind that this is a work of fiction. It is based, in part, on extensive research, but what is presented here is not meant as a documentary and may not be free of error. The opinions expressed by the characters may reflect my own to a great degree, but in the end, are their own. While parts of this tale may read as non-fiction, it is a fictional work.

November 1998

Jordan Ralph and I stepped into the South Bend terminal, glad to be back on the ground and in Indiana once again. We’d packed light, but I was still weighted down with two heavy bags. It was a good thing, too. Just as we rounded a corner, a teen boy plowed into me and would have sent me flying if the bags hadn’t steadied me. The boy bounced off my chest and landed flat on his butt. “I’m so sorry!” he said. “I was...” He froze when his eyes met mine. “You’re... You’re... You’re him!” “I’m Jordan,” I said, dropping my bags and extending my hand. The boy seemed reluctant to take it, but finally grasped my fingers with his own. I helped him to his feet. "I'm Joel." "It's very nice to meet you, Joel," I said, shaking his hand. "I can't believe you're talking to me," he said. "Why not?" I laughed. "Because you're...you're Jordan!" "Well, I can't argue with that,” I grinned. “I can’t believe I ran right into you like that! I’m such a dork!” Ralph laughed. “Then join the club, that’s how we met.”

Joel turned to Ralph, looking surprised, as if he hadn’t noticed him before. “Wow, Jordan’s boyfriend.” “Most people just call me Ralph.” “Oh, yeah, I’m sorry, man.” “It’s not a problem.” Ralph was grinning. “Did you guys really meet like you said, by bumping into each other?” “Yeah,” said Ralph, “we came around a corner at the same time and WHAM!” Joel smiled. He had beautiful, perfectly straight, white teeth. “Oh, uh...this is my mom,” said Joel, nodding his head in the direction of a woman in her mid-thirties who was just behind him. “I’m glad you remembered I was here,” she said. “I’m Marcie.” She shook our hands. “I’m Jordan, and this is Ralph.” “Wow,” said Joel, looking at us. He was clearly overwhelmed. It was a reaction I’d gotten used to, although I never understood why meeting me was such a big deal. “Joel has posters of you all over his room.” “Mom!” Joel turned red. Marcie grinned slightly. “I think I’ll go on before I embarrass Joel any more. Nice to meet you. Don’t be long, Joel, our flight leaves in a few minutes.” Marcie walked toward a ticket counter.

“Um. I, uh...I want to tell you something," said Joel, nervously looking around to see if anyone was listening. "I never thought I'd get the chance to tell you in person, but since you’re here... Well, anyway, when you announced you were gay at that big press conference, I just couldn't believe how brave you were. I've always thought you were awesome, but when I found out you were gay, too... I mean, wow. It gave me the courage to come out to my parents. I'd never told them because I was so afraid they'd hate me or something, but you know what? They said they loved me. They said they didn't care as long as I was happy! I have a boyfriend now and everything and my parents even love him! Although I have to keep the door to my room open when he’s over.” Joel rolled his eyes. “Everything is cool now. None of it would have happened without you." Joel spontaneously moved forward to hug me, then pulled back as if suddenly realizing he was doing something he shouldn't do. I smiled and embraced him. "Thank you so much for telling me,” I said. "That really means a lot to me. I'm so happy for you." When I released Joel he was beaming and slightly pink. “Flight 1211 to Houston is now boarding.” “Shit, that’s my flight. It was so cool to meet you, Jordan. You too, Ralph.” He shook both our hands. "I'll remember this forever."

Joel started to walk away, and then ran back. “I almost forgot. Can I have your autograph?” “Um, sure,” I said, trying to think of what I could sign. Joel handed me his ticket folder and I wrote Joel, your boyfriend is a lucky guy. You’re a cutie, Jordan. Joel had Ralph sign it too, then sped off to catch his flight. “Cutie, huh?” said Ralph. “Should I be jealous?” “Never!” I said. “Even if I did like fifteen year olds, I’d never trade you in.” Ralph laughed. Before we could make it to the car rental counter, a girl of about sixteen or seventeen gave a shriek and ran towards me. “Oh my God!” she said. “I can’t believe you’re here! You are my favorite singer!” I was impatient to get to Verona, but I tried to make time for the fans whenever possible. They were the reason I was able to spend my life living my dream of making music, after all. “Hi, um?” I said, when I could get a word in. “I’m Zoe. Could I have your autograph? I just love your music!” Zoe had a machine-gun approach to speaking. She fired off one string of words after the next, seemingly without taking a breath. “Your brothers are soooo cute, especially Zac, but you are way hotter than either of them. And, I just love MMMBOP.” Ralph snickered beside me, and then bit his lower lip and looked away so he wouldn’t burst out laughing.

This had happened to me before. I liked to think of it as a lesson in humility. Zoe had obviously mistaken me for someone else. “Um, Zoe,” I said, when I could work a word in edgewise, “I hate to tell you this, but I’m not Taylor Hanson. I’m Jordan Potter, with Phantom.” Zoe grew instantly silent and a horrified look descended upon her face. “I’m so sorry!” she said. “I thought... Oh, this is so embarrassing.” “It’s okay,” I said grinning. “I love your music, too, and I’m not just saying that. I don’t know what I was thinking. I’m so stupid!” “Don’t be so hard on yourself. It’s okay. I’m just sorry to disappoint you.” “Oh. I’m not... I mean... Oh dear. Could I still have your autograph?” “Sure,” I said, taking the slip of paper and pen she handed me. I wrote, “To Zoe, Jordan (not Taylor)” and drew a little smiley face. Zoe went on her way, a bit red faced. Ralph allowed himself a small laugh when she was out of earshot. “Well, Taylor... I mean Jordan, shall we go?” “I think Ross is beginning to rub off on you,” I told him. “You’re just lucky Ross isn’t here. You’d never hear the end of it.”

“Isn’t that the truth?” I said. “And don’t you dare tell him!” Ralph grinned. We rented a sporty little red convertible and set off for Verona without further incident. Ethan had volunteered to come and pick us up at the airport, but we didn’t want him going to all that trouble. We’d be putting him and Nathan out enough by staying with them. Besides, we needed a car to get around during our visit. “Look at those colors,” I said, admiring the late fall foliage. A good many leaves were already on the ground, but those that lingered were stunning. I took a breath of fresh country air. It was good to be back. “Nothin’ like that back in California,” said Ralph. “This is beautiful.” “Just wait until Christmas. We’ll be seeing pine trees and snow, instead of palms and bikinis.” “Yeah, I never cared much for bikinis anyway. Now Speedos—That’s another story.” Ralph grinned. “I’m so looking forward to this,” I said. “Yeah, after a whole summer in L.A., it’s going to be relaxing hanging out on a farm. Mmmm, I wonder what we’ll have for supper. I hope Ethan fries some chicken.” “Oh, yeah! With mashed potatoes and those rolls like Nathan made last time.”

“I wouldn’t mind some cobbler either.” “You know, after a few days with the guys, we’re going to have to go on a diet,” I said. “Yeah, right! Like you’ve ever had to diet. If I didn’t love you, I’d hate you for that.” “I can’t help it. It’s my metabolism!” “It’s okay. I do love you, so you’re safe.” It felt weird being behind the wheel of a car. I almost never drove anywhere. Even when we were in a car instead of a tour bus or limousine, Ralph usually did the driving. It was a nice change. I was thinking about buying a truck, or maybe one of those SUV’s, something with four-wheel drive that I could get in the mud. Of course, I’d rarely have the time to drive it, but I still wanted one. We had the top down on the convertible and the brisk fall wind whipped through our hair. The air was slightly chill, but refreshing. I grew quiet as the miles slipped by, taking us farther and farther south. “You okay?” asked Ralph. “Yeah. A little nervous, but okay.” We hadn’t come on this trip just to visit Ethan and Nathan. I’d been thinking a lot about my dad, ever since Nick—Ethan and Nathan’s son—had sent me Dad’s journal barely a week before. It was the journal that’d inspired our trip to Verona, although we’d already planned to come back to Indiana for the holidays. We

merely departed earlier and altered course a little, flying to South Bend instead of Evansville. I’d read Dad’s words over and over. I’d learned so much about him from his journal entries, but there was still so much I didn’t know. When we’d visited Verona before, at the beginning of the summer, we hadn’t stayed long. I’d taken in some of the sights, like my dad’s old high school and his grave, but I wanted to see more. I wanted to experience the little town that Dad had lived in when he was my age. Actually, I was a little older than him already. Dad died when he was only sixteen. He was just a boy really, just beginning his life. It was weird to think that I was now a year older than my dad. Well, I guess I wasn’t really, but still... Ralph reached over and put his hand on mine. He pulled it to his lips and kissed it. I took his hand and squeezed it. I knew that whatever might come, Ralph would be by my side. It felt like much less than an hour had passed when we reached Verona. We drove straight out to the Selby farm. I found it with little trouble. The last time we visited (which was also the first time) the corn was just getting knee high. Now, nearly all of it had been harvested and the fields were open and clear. The farm was no less charming than before; it possessed a tranquil beauty that helped set me at ease. I stepped out of the car and drew in a huge breath of fresh air. “Mmm, smells like fall,” I said. “And it doesn’t smell like smog.”

A rich, earthy scent rode the light breeze, speaking to me of tilled earth, fallen leaves, and horses running in the pasture. Despite the time I’d spent with the Selbys and on Ralph’s farm, country life was a novelty to me. I’d been living in big cities for so long I’d almost forgotten the true beauty of nature. “Jordan! Ralph!” Nick came running to us and clasped his hands around my middle. He gave Ralph a hug, too. “I can’t believe you guys are really here!” “I told you we’d come back, didn’t I?” “Yeah!” Nick beamed. Nick was a good-looking guy, probably just a little younger than Ralph or me. He was a Phantom fan and could be a bit too exuberant, but I couldn’t help but like him. He certainly wasn’t any worse than most of my fans and he was as friendly as he could be. Nick pulled us along the concrete sidewalk, past the screened-in front porch, through the back door, and into the kitchen. “They’re here!” he announced needlessly. Ethan stepped away from the stove for a moment. He was indeed frying chicken. He hugged us both. I felt something special when he hugged me, almost like he was my dad in a way. Nick was very lucky that Ethan and Nathan had adopted him. Nathan gave us both a hug, too. Sean, Nick’s boyfriend, who we’d met last time, was leaning up against the kitchen cabinets. He shyly shook our hands and smiled. I think I scared him a little. That sometimes

happened, because I was famous. I never quite understood why my fame induced fear, but I guess some people just didn’t know how to react. They didn’t realize that under all the hype, I was just an ordinary guy. “Lemme show you to your room,” said Nick, full of enthusiasm. He led us up the stairs. “You’re using my room, just like last time.” “I hate to put you out,” I said. “Oh, you’re not putting me out. There are guest rooms, but I want you guys to use mine! It makes it...kinda special.” Nick pointed to a cardboard sign on his wall that read, “Jordan and Ralph Slept Here.” I smiled. I suspected it was a joke, but with Nick, I wasn’t so sure. I didn’t want to laugh and embarrass him. I had the feeling he thought of his room as a historic site. Kind of like those colonial homes with the signs reading “George Washington Slept Here.” We dropped our bags. Nick still had his Phantom insignia poster hanging on the wall, the one I’d autographed for him last time. He had even more Phantom stuff displayed than before. There were all kinds of posters and pictures from magazines taped and tacked to the walls. “You know, you don’t have to put all this stuff up just because we were coming,” I teased. Nick smiled. “You know I didn’t! I’m your biggest fan!”

“You’re my friend,” I said. I hoped Nick would calm down a bit and see me as just another person, instead of a rock star. “Um, I think supper will be ready in about half an hour. The bathroom’s down the hall. Well, you know that. Anyway, I’ll leave you two alone for a while. I’m so glad you’re here!” Nick disappeared. “I think that boy likes you,” said Ralph. “I hope he doesn’t try to steal my boyfriend.” “I don’t think Sean would like that.” “The question is, would you?” Ralph grinned. “Nah, I already have my own farm boy. One is enough for me.” I pulled Ralph to me and kissed him on the lips. *** “Pass me those mashed potatoes!” I said. I was already working on fried chicken, corn, and cooked apples and I couldn’t get enough. It was my second helping of mashed potatoes and there’d likely be a third. “Another roll, Jordan?” asked Nathan. “Oh yeah! Pass me one of those babies.” “This is so delicious. You guys cook as good as my mom,” said Ralph. “Just don’t tell her I said that!”

“Your secret is safe with us,” said Nathan, as he reached over and squeezed Ethan’s hand. The love between them was obvious and had been burning strong since they were younger than Ralph and me. They must have been something back then. They still were, even now. They were both in their early to mid-thirties, but they didn’t look it. Nathan had thick blond hair and a youthful face that made him look more like a college boy than a man old enough to be my dad. Ethan—he was something else. If his dark hair and handsome features weren’t enough, he was built. I wished I could be half as buff as him. What I wished most of all, however, is that Ralph and I would be together when we were their ages. I loved Ralph with all my heart, but who knew what the future might bring? We were far too busy eating to talk much, but we did chat some as we stuffed ourselves. I felt so at home in the farmhouse. It reminded me a lot of Ralph’s farm. I wondered if our own home would have the same feel. Ralph and I now owned a little log cabin in southern Indiana, in the wild woods of Pike County. At last, we had our own place; a real home where we could live when I wasn’t on tour or in the recording studio. We wouldn’t have much time to spend there, but it would be nice to have a place to call home—someplace that’d always be there, waiting on us, no matter where in the world we might be. It was especially important to me, since I spent so much time living in hotels, rented houses, and the tour bus. The last real home I could remember was when my mom and I lived in a little house in Georgia for a while. I was thirteen then, I

think. Before that we’d moved around all over the place, living in run-down houses, trailers, and even cheap motel rooms. I felt like I’d been on tour all my life. I could only vaguely remember living in Indiana. That was no surprise. I think we lived in Indiana from the time I was born until I was four or five. It was before I started school anyway. It was some little town near Indianapolis. I didn’t even remember the name. The only thing I could really remember was that Mom had to keep the stairs blocked off because I liked climbing on the banisters. She called me her “little monkey.” I sighed. I hadn’t talked to Mom in months. Sometimes I wasn’t sure she cared. “Thanks so much for sending my dad’s journal,” I said. Nick would never know how truly special that journal was to me. It was valuable beyond price. “Thank Sean. He’s the one who found it,” said Nick. “Yeah, that’s right,” I said, remembering the letter Nick had sent with the journal. “Sean, if you ever need anything, you let me know.” “Well, I know a really big fan of yours. I’m sure he’d just die if you kissed him on the cheek. Wouldn’t you, Nick?” Nick turned beet red. Sean had a devilish glint in his eye. Nick was sitting next to me, so I leaned over and kissed his cheek. “You can die happy now, Nick,” teased Sean. “You’re gonna get it later,” threatened Nick.

“Oh, baby!” said Sean. “That’s not what I meant!” said Nick, his cheeks reddening even more as he glanced nervously at his dads. Ethan and Nathan only grinned at their son’s embarrassment. “Seriously, though, Sean, that journal means more to me than just about anything. If you need anything, call me. I owe you big.” Sean just smiled. I felt comfortable sitting there. I was with family. I wasn’t related to a single soul at that table, but family was about a lot more than genetics. Ethan was the closest thing I had to a dad. I hadn’t known him all that long, but there was something there. He just seemed fatherly. He’d known my dad, too. I almost couldn’t believe that the handsome man sitting at the table had been one of my dad’s boyhood friends. “I don’t know if this is the time to bring it up,” I said, “but there’s something I’ve been wondering...” I paused; butterflies had just taken wing in my stomach. “Are my dad’s parents...still around? Are they still alive?” It was a big question for me, one I hadn’t dared ask on our last visit. I wasn’t even sure I was ready for the answer now. Ethan looked into my eyes. “Yes. They’re both still living, although I guess they’re in their early to mid 60’s by now.” “Do you know where they are?”

“Right where they’ve always been. People in Verona tend to stay put. I saw Mrs. Potter in the grocery just last week. We didn’t speak. We never do. I sometimes think that seeing me is a painful reminder of her past. I’m not exactly comfortable around her or her husband, either.” A flash of anger temporarily altered Ethan’s features, but it was gone as quickly as it had come. I nodded. I could well understand. When my grandfather threw my dad out of the house, it started a chain of events that led to disaster. In only a few hours, my dad had taken his own life. That caused Mark, my dad’s boyfriend, to kill himself too. Ethan was close to both of them, especially Mark. I didn’t doubt that he still blamed my grandparents for the death of his friends. A part of me was angry with them, too. If it weren’t for what they’d done, maybe I wouldn’t have grown up without a father. Part of me wanted to meet them. They were my grandparents after all. Part of me never wanted to see them. I wasn’t sure I could forgive them for what they’d done all those years ago. Whether or not I saw them was a decision I intended to make while staying on the farm. It was one of the main reasons I’d come—to quiet the ghosts of my past. Ralph took my hand and squeezed it. He understood. Throughout my entire life, I’d wondered about my father. Mom never told me much about him. I think the memories were too painful for her. I guess I could understand that. In recent months, I’d discovered more about Dad than I ever thought I would; first through the pages of his boyfriend’s journal, then by reading his

own. I still had questions. There was so much I didn’t know about him. That’s why I’d returned to Verona— to walk where he walked and to talk with those he actually knew. I put aside my thoughts for a while and lost myself in the moment. The kitchen was warm and filled with the scent of home cooking and freshly baked bread. We talked of the farm and the simple things that life was all about. I found myself wishing I could just stay there forever. We polished off all the mashed potatoes and nearly demolished the chicken. Even so, when Nathan pulled out a blackberry cobbler, we greedily set out to devour it. The vanilla ice cream on top made it especially tasty. The whole meal was delicious. I’d eaten in the very best restaurants in New York City and in L.A., and they didn’t have anything on Ethan and Nathan. If I stayed with them too long I’d have to hire a personal trainer. I doubted that even my metabolism could burn up that many calories. We had hot blackberry tea with our cobbler. It made me feel all comfy and cozy. The whole farm made me feel that way. It was unlike the rest of my life. There were no paparazzi trying to get my picture, no screaming fans, no one pushing photos at me to sign. I could just relax and talk with friends. Nick had a crazed-fan feel to him, but only to a certain degree. He was mellowing out nicely. On our last trip, I’d given him my address, e-mail address, and a phone number where he could reach me. Now, I was back in his home.

I think knowing that he could reach me pretty much anytime he wanted helped him to calm down. He’d been so thrilled when we first met that he followed me around like a puppy. It was a little annoying. Now, he was merely excited and I was more comfortable around him. He was a great kid. I chuckled to myself. I thought of Nick as a kid, and yet he was probably only a few months younger than me. I was a little concerned by the glint in Nick’s eye. I could feel something when he looked at me. I had the distinct impression that he was physically attracted to me. I hoped it didn’t become a problem. He surely knew that nothing would happen. I was totally devoted to Ralph. Nick had a boyfriend, too. Sean was kind of quiet, but there was something inherently likeable about him. I could tell he was excited to meet me, and yet he treated me like he would anyone else. I liked that. I wanted to get to know him better, if there was time. After supper, we made our way to the living room and chatted for a couple of hours. Ethan and Nathan talked more about life on the farm, which I found fascinating. I talked a little about the new CD that Ross, Kieran, and I were putting together, but mostly we talked of ordinary, everyday stuff. It was wonderful. That night, I lay in an antique bed beside Ralph, breathing in the scent of polished wood and clean sheets. I slept with Ralph almost every night, but I never failed to appreciate how truly lucky I was to have him in my life. Some people searched their entire lives

for love without finding it, but I was still young and had already found it. I was lucky in a lot of ways. I was able to follow my dreams and spend my days making music. I was famous. I was rich. All of that paled when compared to having Ralph. If I had to give up all but one thing I loved in my life, it was Ralph I’d keep. There was no doubt about it. He was more important to me than even my music, and that was saying something. Ralph was drifting off, but I was strangely wakeful. I should’ve been tired after the flight, the drive, and my evening with the guys, but I was as wide-awake as if I’d just arisen from a good night’s sleep. “I’m going to check some email,” I said, as I kissed Ralph on the forehead and slipped out of bed. Ralph mumbled something, but was already sleeping. His chest gently rose and fell and his regular breathing hinted at sweet dreams. I pulled out my laptop and plugged it into the phone jack. Luckily, I had an 800-access number so I didn’t have to worry about running up Ethan and Nathan’s phone bill. I signed into my email account and quickly browsed through the new messages. There weren’t many. Only a handful of friends had my private email address. I didn’t even use it for business. The farmhouse was dark and quiet. I was reminded of a line from A Visit From Saint Nicholas, “Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.” Well, I was stirring. I was just too keyed up to sleep. That

sometimes happened, but usually before a concert. Normally, I was so tired I slept like the dead. I decided to check out some chat rooms. Ralph had told me about talking to people on the internet, but I’d never done so myself. I was generally far too busy for such things. It was kind of an interesting concept, however, talking to someone by typing to them. I couldn’t believe the number of chat rooms. There were dozens of them, maybe even hundreds. I worked my way into the music section. There, near the top of the list, were five different Phantom chat rooms. I was surprised, but then again, I’d never stopped to think that people might be chatting about our group on the internet. Hmm—should I? I thought. Why not? What could it hurt? I entered “Phantom Fans Rule” under the username of JT-1998, which stands for Jordan Taylor, my first and middle names. I just threw in the rest because JT was too short and already taken. There were about fifty people in the room and messages appeared on the screen pretty quickly. It was a little hard to keep up because there seemed to be more than one conversation going on at once and I wasn’t sure who was talking to whom. I laughed softly at the main conversation. Didn’t people have better things to talk about? Phantomgurl_873: Don’t you just LOVE Jordan’s hair?

Jordans_boy_785: Oh yeah! I dream about running my fingers through it. Phantomgurl_873: You’re soooo lucky JB cause Jordan is gay. Jordans_boy_785: Yeah right! Like he’d ever look twice at me. Phantomgurl_873: At least you’ve got a shot at him, although I secretly hope he’s bi. Jordans_boy_785: You never know. Phantomgurl_873: Someone said he was cutting his hair, like REAL short. Jordans_boy_785: Nooooooo! He can’t do that! Abercrombiejock46: That’s just a stupid rumor. Phantomgurl_873: I HOPE SO! Susie_cat: Don’t yell, Phantomgurl. Phantomgurl_873: Sorry, it just upsets me. Susie_cat: It’s only hair. Jordans_boy_785: But it’s Jordan’s hair! He can’t cut it, it’s soooo sexy! Phantomgurl_873: You got that right, JB. Devilboy_209: Jordan’s a fag and Phantom SUCKS! Jordans_boy_785: Shut up, Devilboy!

Devilboy_209: They can’t even sing. Why don’t you people listen to real music? Phantomgurl_873: Phantom is the best! Jordans_boy_785: You go gurl! Devilboy_209: I hate Phantom! They sing like girls! Fuckin’ queers. Phantomgurl_873: Then why are you here, Devilboy? This is a Phantom Room. Devilboy_209: I wanted to see what losers chat about. Jordan’s hair! LOL Jordans_boy_785: Fuck off, Devilboy. Devilboy_209: I’m so scared, you fag. Phantomgurl_873: Just put him on ignore. Jordans_boy_785: K Devilboy_209: Don’t bother, losers. I have a life. BYE Phantomgurl_873: Creep. Jordans_boy_785: Hey, when you think the new CD is coming out? Phantomgurl_873: I heard real soon, like Christmas. Jordans_boy_785: I wish they’d do a Christmas CD. Hanson did one and it rocked! Phantomgurl_873: Yeah, I loved “Snowed In”, but it would be awesome if Phantom did one.

Jordans_boy_785: Don’t you think Jordan looks a lot like Gil Ofarim? Phantomgurl_873: Who’s that? Jordans_boy_785: You don’t know Gil Ofarim? He’s this heavenly singer from Germany. He has long, blond hair like Jordan, but his is darker. You gotta get his CD. The Moffatts did a song with him. You do know them, don’t you? Phantomgurl_873: Of course I do. I have a weakness for cute boys with long hair. Dave has short hair, but he’s still a cutie. Scott, Bob, and Clint are sooo sexy. Jordans_boy_785: You got that right! Hey, don’t you think Jordan looks a lot like Taylor Hanson, too? Phantomgurl_873: Yeah, he does. I’ve never been able to decide which is cuter. Jordans_boy_785: Jordan is cuter! Phantomgurl_873: I knew you’d say that. Jordans_boy_785: Jordan’s hotter than any of ‘em! I’m not knocking the others, but wow! Phantomgurl_873: LOL Jordans_boy_785: I have dreams about Jordan. Phantomgurl_873: I bet you do, LOL. Jordans_boy_785: I’ll tell you about them, but not in the room. Phantomgurl_873: K, let’s go private.

I kind of felt like I was eavesdropping as I read the screen. They were talking about me and had no idea I was listening in, or whatever you call it. What was up with everyone talking about my hair? Whenever we did a press conference or interview there was always the inevitable hair question. It just astounded me that anyone would care about something so meaningless. It didn’t make me angry, but I just didn’t understand it. “Devilboy” sure had the right name. His comments didn’t bother me, though; I’d heard plenty like that before. You couldn’t be in the public eye without someone going off on you. Suddenly, a little box popped up on my screen and I heard a chime. Inside the box was a message from someone called “Number_1_Phantom_fan.” It said, “Hey, what’s up?” I just sat there for a few moments, not sure what to do. I didn’t know it was even possible to send a message like that. Finally, I typed, “Not much, just looking around.” Almost immediately, another message appeared, “Cool, you into Phantom?” “Yeah, I guess you could say that,” I typed. “They rule,” typed Number_1_Phantom_fan. “Who’s your favorite?” “I don’t really have a favorite.”

“Jordan is mine! Ross and Kieran are totally cool, but Jordan’s a babe and oh can he sing!” I felt a little weird talking to someone about myself, especially when they didn’t know it was me. “How old are you?” “Seventeen,” said Number_1_Phantom_fan. “You?” “Same. You a guy or girl?” “Guy. You?” “I’m a guy.” “I hope you don’t mind me asking, but are you gay or straight?” “I’m gay,” I typed. “Me, too. I know a lot of straight guys who are into Phantom, but most of ‘em are gay.” “Yeah, I guess,” I said. “Do you have a pic to trade?” “Huh?” “A picture of you?” “Oh, no, sorry.” “Want to see me?” “Um, sure.” For a few seconds nothing happened, but then a message appeared on the screen asking if I wanted to accept a file. I clicked “okay.” Several seconds later it finished downloading and I clicked “open.” The picture

was of an ordinary, but kind looking guy with brown hair and eyes. He was wearing a Phantom shirt. “What do you think?” typed Number_1_Phantom_fan. “You’re handsome,” I said. “No, I’m not, but thanks for saying it.” “You are,” I typed. It was true. Sure, he’d never be a model, but the world had too many of those already. He looked just fine. “I’m Hunter,” said Number_1_Phantom_fan. I paused for a moment. Should I give him my real name? I didn’t want to reveal who I really was. Then again, there were plenty of Jordan’s in the world. “I’m Jordan,” I said. “Awesome name! What do you look like?” Uh oh, I thought. Now what do I do? I didn’t want to lie, but I didn’t want him guessing who I was—not that he’d be likely to believe me if I told him. “I look a lot like Jordan from Phantom.” “Are you shitting me?” “No.” “You must be gorgeous then!” I giggled. “I look okay.” “If you look like Jordan, you look more than okay. He’s the hottest boy alive.”

I started feeling guilty again—like I was reading Hunter’s diary. “I think he’d rather be liked for his music,” I typed. “Oh, I do! I heard Phantom on the radio and ran right out and bought the CD. I loved the music even before I knew what the guys looked like.” “That’s cool.” “Yeah. They are all totally hot, but I’d love their music if they were butt-ugly.” I was starting to like Hunter even more. What I really liked was that I could talk to him as just a regular guy. I hadn’t been able to talk to anyone like that in as long as I could remember. I felt like I’d made a new friend. “You go to high school?” I asked. “Yeah, I’m a junior. You?” “I don’t go to high school. I guess you could say I’m home-schooled.” “I’ve heard of that, is it cool?” We talked about what it’s like having tutors instead of attending school, and I asked some questions about what life in high school was like. I was so engrossed in talking to Hunter that I forgot all about the Phantom chat room. “You have a boyfriend?” asked Hunter. “Yeah, you?” “No way. I wish. I want one so bad, but I’ll never find one.”

“Why do you think that?” “Because I’m a fat-ass.” “You aren’t fat.” “Yeah, I am. No one wants a fat boy.” “I’ve seen your picture. You aren’t fat. You’re not skinny, but you’re not fat.” “You’re just being nice.” “No, really.” I was being a little nice. Hunter was on the chubby side, but I wanted to pump him up a bit. His opinion of himself was too low. “Well, I think you look just fine. You should be able to find a boyfriend.” “Yeah, right! I’m fat and will probably die alone. I bet you’re nice and slim and have a boyfriend that’s some kind of jock or something.” “My boyfriend is kind of chubby.” “Really?” “Yes, and I love him SO much.” “You’re just saying that.” “No, I’m not. I promise. He’s a little chubby and it doesn’t matter to me. I love the way he looks. I’d love him no matter what he looked like. It’s what’s inside that matters.” “You’re really nice, Jordan.” “You are too, Hunter. Don’t be so down on yourself. I bet you’ve got plenty to offer.” “It’s hard not to be down on myself. I always have been.”

“Well, you shouldn’t be. I don’t really know you, but you seem pretty cool to me,” I typed. “If you didn’t have a boyfriend, would you date me?” “I might, but that would depend on your personality, not your looks.” “You’re saying looks don’t matter at all? I wish it was like that, but it’s just not true,” typed Hunter. “I’m not saying they don’t matter at all. They do matter, but personality matters a whole lot more. I’d rather have a kind, sweet, ordinary looking guy than a totally gorgeous guy who was a dick.” “Yeah, I guess I get what you mean. So, you look kind of like Jordan? Do you have long hair like him?” “Yep, real long.” “Wow. That’s so cool.” “It can be a pain. It takes a long time to wash, dry, and brush. I like my hair long, but I often wonder if it’s worth it.” “Oh man, I LOVE dudes with long hair.” “Where do you live?” I asked, hoping to distract him from the topic of hair. We’d already discussed it more than enough as far as I was concerned. “Indiana.” “Really? Cool. I’m in Indiana.” Right after I’d typed it, I wondered if I’d made a mistake. I was forgetting that I shouldn’t be totally honest. “Sweet! Where at?”

“A little town called Verona. I’m sure you’ve never heard of it.” “Nope.” “It’s in northwest Indiana.” “I’m in the northeast. The nearest big town is Fort Wayne.” “Cool.” We talked for an hour more, mostly about Hunter’s inability to find a boyfriend. He had some real issues with his appearance. I felt sorry for him, not so much because he was having trouble finding someone, but because of his self-image. I thought it must be horrible for him to go through life thinking he was ugly. When I told him he wasn’t, he simply couldn’t or wouldn’t believe it. Before we signed off, Hunter typed, “Thanks for talking to me, you’re cool, you make me feel better about myself.” That made me feel really good. Hunter seemed like such a sweet guy. I wished he could see it. I shut off the computer and undressed for bed. I looked at myself in the mirror. I didn’t like seeing myself naked. Where Hunter thought he was fat, I thought I was too skinny. Well, not really skinny, but I could’ve used more muscle. I didn’t need to be all buff like Ethan, but I wouldn’t have minded to have a little more muscle here and there. I guess everyone had something they didn’t like about their body. Still, I had a pretty good self-image. I guess having so many people say I was gorgeous helped with that, not that I

believed them. I wished Hunter could hear someone say he was hot—and believe it. I climbed into bed beside Ralph. I knew I was lucky to have him, but talking to Hunter made that even more obvious. I snuggled up against my boyfriend and was soon fast asleep.

Ralph By the time Jordan and I awakened, showered, dressed, and walked downstairs, most everyone was gone. Sean had gone home the night before. Nick was at school. And Ethan was already out and about doing farm work. “What can I fix you two for breakfast?” asked Nathan. “We can get something in town. You don’t have to feed us all the time,” said Jordan. “We don’t want to put you out.” “Nonsense,” said Nathan. “It’s no trouble at all. How about some scrambled eggs, toast, and bacon?” “That does sound good,” said Jordan. “How can we help?” I asked. “Are you any good with toast?” asked Nathan. “Jordan’s not, but I am.” “Hey!” “I love you, Jordan, but we both know you can’t cook.” Jordan laughed. “That’s only because no one ever taught me.” “Okay, then today’s lesson is toast,” I said. “Maybe tomorrow we can move on to eggs.” “And then pancakes?”

“Let’s not get crazy.” “Funny!” While Nathan scrambled eggs and fried bacon, I cut thick slices of bread from a homemade loaf. It smelled delicious and we hadn’t even toasted it yet. Jordan smeared on butter and slid the slices into a little toaster oven. Nathan fixed eggs like I’d never seen them prepared before. When they were mostly done, he added hunks of cheese. While that was melting, he cut fresh chives from a pot on the windowsill and chopped them up fine. He stirred the chives into the eggs and cheese and added salt and pepper. It smelled heavenly. The timer dinged and Jordan pulled out the first slices of toast from the oven. They were golden brown. “Who says I can’t cook!” “You’re a true chef, Babe.” In a few minutes’ time we all sat down to a nice, big breakfast. It was so much better than our usual fare. In many ways, Ethan, Nathan, and Nick were the ones who lived in the lap of luxury. We helped clean up after breakfast, despite Nathan’s protests. I almost felt like I was back home on Mom and Dad’s farm. That reminded me that I needed to give them a call soon. I never went more than a week without calling my mom. I was out of high school, but she still thought I was her baby. I had the feeling she’d still think that when I was fifty.

We returned to Nick’s room and Jordan pulled out a blue flannel shirt from one of his bags and slipped it on. “How do I look?” “Beautiful.” “I mean, will I blend in? Do I look like a farm boy?” “Babe, you’ll never look like a farm boy, but you might blend in.” Jordan looked so very handsome. He was wearing a pair of faded and worn jeans, well-worn sneakers, and a royal blue T-shirt, with the blue-plaid flannel shirt over it. Still, he didn’t look quite like an ordinary boy. There wasn’t anything ordinary about Jordan. “How about now?” he asked, after donning a “John Deere” baseball cap. “Now, you fit in,” I said. I hoped we could walk around without being recognized. That was the trouble with having a famous boyfriend. We could almost never do anything normal. It was difficult to simply eat out. Shopping in a mall could easily turn into a mob scene. Verona was a very small town, however, and even if everyone descended on us at once, surely the crowd couldn’t be too big. I looked at Jordan’s hair. No matter how good his disguise, it never failed to give him away. Not many seventeen-year-old guys had blond hair that reached the middle of their back. It caught the attention of most people—then they looked at Jordan’s face and knew exactly who he was. I was a little nervous about Jordan

going out in public without a bodyguard. He gave little thought to his own safety, but I was always a little worried that something would happen. I wondered how Mike, Jordan’s bodyguard, was enjoying his vacation. He was probably spending it worrying about Jordan. Mike didn’t want to go on vacation at all. Jordan had to force him. He sent him off to Barbados for several days of fun in the sun. No one deserved it more than Mike. He guarded Jordan 24/7 for months on end. We hopped in our rental car and Jordan drove toward town. He passed his dad’s old high school very slowly, but didn’t go in. That would have created chaos. I could just imagine how all those kids would react if the most famous rock star in the entire world just walked into the cafeteria. Ethan said he could get Jordan into the school after hours so he could have a look around. The Phys Ed teacher/football coach was an old friend of his. We parked the car, got out, and walked around downtown. It wasn’t very big at all. It reminded me of the small towns around my old home in southern Indiana. On Main Street there was a barber shop, a couple of beauty parlors, a corner bar called The Green Dragon with a faded sign hanging out front with a large fire-breathing dragon painted on it, and two small restaurants called Café Moffatt and The Iron Kettle. There were a few quaint shops along Main Street. We stopped at a little antique store and went inside. Jordan kind of liked old things. I think his world was so filled with high-tech instruments, recording equipment,

limousines, and spotless hotels that he found more primitive stuff comfortable and homey. His eyes fell on a big, old cupboard as we were browsing. It had to be at least seven feet tall and nearly as wide. I knew from the look on Jordan’s face that he wouldn’t leave the shop without owning it. Being able to buy anything you wanted was one of the perks of being a rock star. “You like it?” asked Jordan, as he ran his hand along one of the smooth doors. “Yeah.” “I love it,” he said. A lady, who looked old enough to be an antique herself, came out of the back and walked toward us. “Now that’s a very nice piece,” she said. I liked the old lady immediately. She probably thought neither Jordan nor I could begin to afford anything. We were dressed in worn clothes and probably looked like a couple of teenagers who just had nothing to do, but she treated us as if we were the most important people in the world. I liked people who had respect for everyone else, no matter how they were dressed or how much money they had in their bank account. “It’s beautiful,” said Jordan, “can you tell us about it?” “It’s Cherry, constructed with pegs and square nails. You see the width of this board?” she said, indicating

the side of the cupboard, which was about three feet wide. “It’s all one piece. You can’t even find a cherry tree that big nowadays. Most step-back cupboards were made to come apart, but this one doesn’t. It was made in the 1860’s or 70’s and came out of an old farmhouse.” We looked it over. It was beautiful. “You have a way of delivering it?” asked Jordan. “I’d need to get it to southern Indiana.” “Yes, we have a shipment going to Evansville and then on to Nashville. Delivery on this piece would be $100.” That didn’t sound bad at all for delivering something so big and heavy so very far away. The price tag was $2,200. I didn’t know much about antiques, so I didn’t know if that was high or not. “We’ll take it,” said Jordan. The old lady looked surprised. I don’t think she had any idea that we’d actually buy it. We looked around some more. Jordan picked up what looked like a small china cookie jar decorated with little flowers. It was really pretty. The tag said it was a cracker jar, circa 1870. It was only $45. “Let’s get this too,” said Jordan. We looked around at a lot of interesting things. It was a cool place—kind of like a museum, but things were for sale. The shop was decorated for Christmas. There were lights and sprayed on snow around the windows

and a big Christmas tree standing in one corner. The tree was decorated with old-fashioned ornaments and bubble-lights. Christmas music was quietly playing in the background and there were even free Christmas cookies sitting on a large antique cake stand. I felt like it was December instead of November. Jordan handed the shop owner his credit card and arranged for delivery of the cupboard and cracker jar. I think we made the shopkeeper’s day. “I’ll throw in the cracker jar for free,” she said. “Thanks,” said Jordan, “that’s very nice of you.” We stopped in a few more shops on Main Street, mainly just looking around. It was a beautiful little town. After a couple of blocks, one side of the street opened up into a big park. Across the park was an old theater, The Paramount, another restaurant called The Park’s Edge and a little ice cream shop & burger place called Ofarim’s. “Oh, we’ve got to go into Ofarim’s,” said Jordan. “Dad mentioned getting ice cream there in his journal.” We stepped into the shop and each ordered a vanilla cone. I nudged Jordan and pointed to a large framed poster with the Phantom insignia hanging on the wall. He rolled his eyes and I smiled. We sat at a booth and took it all in. Ofarim’s was decorated like a 1950’s diner, with red checked tablecloths and art deco trim. About the only thing modern in there were some of the rock posters, like the big one of Phantom.

“My dad could’ve sat right in this booth,” said Jordan. He was clearly experiencing a mixture of excitement, sadness, and awe. “It seems so...I don’t know...weird being here. I mean, think about it—my dad actually ate ice cream here. Maybe he sat right where I’m sitting. Maybe his boyfriend even sat right where you are now. Just think, he was here and now I am. I feel sort of...connected, you know?” “Yeah. You are connected. You’re his son, after all. There’s a lot of him in you.” “Yeah. It’s kind of like a part of him is still living, right inside me,” he said, running his fingertips over his heart. I nodded and licked my ice cream cone. I was happy that Jordan could take this time to seek out his past. Being with him made me realize how lucky I was that I’d always had a mom and dad. Jordan had never met his father. His dad died before Jordan was born, not even knowing he’d have a son. It was too bad his dad hadn’t known. Maybe he could’ve held on if he did. Maybe he wouldn’t have killed himself. I guess it just went to show how suicide was such a tragic mistake. It was too final and there were too many unknowns. When Taylor killed himself, he triggered his boyfriend’s suicide as well, and forever left his son without a father. He didn’t know all that was going to happen, of course, and that was the danger of suicide. One never knew what unknown pain it would cause. “God, I wish he was still alive,” said Jordan.

“I know,” I said, taking his hand. He squeezed my hand tightly, and then released it. “I used to get mad at him for leaving me,” said Jordan. “It really pissed me off that he was dead, especially since he killed himself. I kinda felt like he just left me. I know he didn’t do it to hurt me, though, or anyone. I don’t think anyone is thinking straight when they take their own life. I hate thinking of him going through that. He must have been in such terrible emotional pain.” “Hey, Jordan,” I said, taking his chin in my hand and making him look at me. “All that’s over. It’s in the past. Your dad’s in Heaven now, or wherever you go when you die. He’s with Mark and they’re happy. He wouldn’t want you worrying over him.” “You really think he’s in Heaven?” asked Jordan. “People say that suicides go to Hell.” I could tell the thought disturbed and tormented him. “I really think he’s in Heaven. Why would anyone go to Hell for killing themselves? If someone ends their own life, it’s because they’re in pain. They can’t handle it. They’re driven to it. I’d go so far as to say it’s not even a conscious choice. People who kill themselves don’t really do it themselves, you know? Something makes them. It’s like they are murdered by their own lives. Anyway, I’m sure your dad is doing just fine. He’s probably watching over you right now—him and Mark.” “Thanks, Ralph.” Jordan’s eyes were misty, but a slight smile turned up the corners of his mouth. Being

there for him when he needed me made me feel warm inside. We finished our ice cream and walked around town. Jordan soaked it all in, taking in every detail. He was walking in his father’s footsteps, following him, in a way. I think it made him feel closer to him than ever.

Jordan I walked quietly through the graveyard. The stillness was disturbed only by the occasional call of a snowbird, a subtle reminder that winter was coming. I was warm enough in my jeans and flannel shirt on this day, however, and the scent of fall lingered in the air. I was alone. Ralph offered to come with me, but some things I wanted to do all by myself. Ralph understood. That’s one of the things I loved about our relationship. We enjoyed our time together, but weren’t afraid to go our own way for a while. I didn’t mind being alone, because I knew I’d be back in Ralph’s arms soon enough. Just having him in my life made me feel safe, secure, and content. I placed a single red rose on the top of my dad’s tombstone, and another on the top of Mark’s. Even though there was no biological connection, I felt as if I were Mark’s son, too. I knew how they felt about each other, how deeply they loved one another. Their journals made that abundantly clear. Had Mark and my dad lived, I have no doubt they would have raised me together as their son. How different my life would’ve been then. Life was filled with “what if’s”, and I often wondered what mine would’ve been like had my dad lived. I wondered, too, if he and Mark would’ve been proud of the way I turned out. I secretly longed for my

father’s approval. If only he could put his hand on my shoulder and say, “I’m proud of you, Son.” My chest grew warm when I noticed a small bunch of carnations in front of each stone, half hidden by fallen leaves. Doubtless Ethan had placed them there. He’d never forgotten his friendship with Mark, or my dad. I knelt and cleared the yellowed leaves away, revealing the pure white carnations in all their simple beauty. They were a symbol that others were touched by the loss of Taylor and Mark, too. I felt for Ethan. I’d lost a father I’d never known, two fathers really, but Ethan had lost friends he knew well. How painful it must have been for him when they died. Ethan had the misfortune of having them ripped from his life. I would have traded with him, though, to be able to look upon my father’s face, hear his voice, and feel his arms encircling me as he hugged me. I had a wonderful life; but still, I yearned for those simple things that were beyond price. I sat on the grass in front of the tombstones, alone with my thoughts. The sun cast the grave markers in bright light, warming the gray stone and the bluishgreen moss that grew upon it. I knew that only the bodies of my dad and Mark lay in those graves, but it was a pretty place for them to rest. Soft, green grass grew over the graves and around the stones. Large peonies guarded them and I thought to myself how beautiful they must be when in bloom. The final resting place of Taylor and Mark was both peaceful and

beautiful, as if God had shown his approval of their love by shining his light down upon them. I wondered where they really were. Was there a heaven, or someplace like it? I knew in my heart that Dad and Mark were still “alive.” I don’t mean living and breathing, but existing in some way. Sometimes, I could feel them and I was almost sure they were with me, even though I could neither see nor hear them. Whenever I was afraid, or sick, or lonely, they were there, like guardian Angels. Maybe they were my Angels. I liked thinking of them like that. I opened my wallet and took out the photo I carried with me always. It was a picture of Dad and Mark, smiling, with their arms around each other. I was definitely my father’s son. We could have been twins, even though I was now a year older than he’d been when he died. It was odd being older than my dad. Looking at his picture, he seemed as much a friend as a father. He and Mark looked like guys I could hang out with. I almost felt like they were buddies of mine who could go on double dates with Ralph and me. I gazed at the photo a bit more, then placed it carefully back in my wallet. I sat and looked at the tombstones for a while longer, then stood. “Wish me luck, Dad. I’m going to need it. I’d appreciate it if you and Mark would stick close to me for a while. I don’t know if I can do this.” I could feel my heart beating in my chest, thumping with fear. The nervous feeling that I could never quite describe spread through my body as I thought of what

lay just ahead. I’d made my decision. I was going to see my grandparents. I had no idea what would happen. They didn’t even know I existed. They might not even believe I was Taylor’s son. I had proof with me in the car, sitting inside a small backpack. I’d just have to see how things played out. I wasn’t even sure how I’d feel when I saw them for the very first time. I said my goodbyes and walked toward the car. *** I just stared at the house through the car window for a few minutes. I almost couldn’t believe it. It was my dad’s house. How many times had he walked up those steps? How many times had he crossed the porch to that very door? He’d probably played in the yard and climbed in the trees. Somewhere inside was his very own room. He’d slept there, done his homework there. True, he’d only lived there for a few months, but it had been his home. I didn’t realize until I glanced at my hand that I was trembling. My mind was flooded with overpowering thoughts and feelings, both happy and sad. I didn’t know whether to laugh in joy or cry in despair. There was so much of good and evil here. This was the home Dad had come to, filled with bliss over meeting Mark. This was the house my dad had run from on that night so many years ago. He’d left it, never to return.

I grabbed my backpack from the seat beside me and opened the door. I stood beside the car, still gazing at the house. It was an old home, probably built sixty or more years before. Multiple layers of white paint were peeling here and there, but it was well kept. There was a large porch with a couple of rockers on it, moving slowly back and forth in the gentle breeze. My eyes roved over the yard. There were large lilac and snowball bushes. In my mind’s eye I could see them in bloom in spring. Had my dad stopped to smell the fragrant lavender blooms of the lilacs? Had he picked flowers out of the beds to create a bouquet for his mom? His spirit was everywhere in this place. I half expected to see him come running out the door to greet me. I could almost feel his arms close around me and hear him telling me how long he’d awaited the moment he could at last meet his long-lost son. I took a deep breath and forced my feet to move. One step after another brought me closer and closer to meeting my grandparents for the first time. My heart thumped in my chest so fiercely it made my shirt move. My hands were shaking. I opened the screen door and with supreme effort, reached out and knocked. I closed the screen door and waited. Seconds ticked by, each lasting an eternity. I had to fight to keep myself from bolting for the car. I took another deep breath, trying to calm myself. I’d never been so nervous before. I could stand and sing before thousands, but meeting my only relatives filled me with fear.

The door opened, revealing a small, old woman with familiar eyes. She gasped as her eyes met mine and a fraction of a second later her coffee mug shattered on the porch. Hot coffee soaked my jeans, burning me, but I heeded it not at all. The shocked woman standing before me was my grandmother, my father’s mom. My grandmother just stood there staring at me for a few moments, a stunned expression on her face. “I’m...I’m sorry,” she said at last, “I don’t know why I’m so clumsy. I’ve ruined your pants. I’m so sorry.” “It’s all right, Mrs. Potter.” She looked me in the eyes when I spoke her name. “What do you want?” she asked, her voice trembling slightly. Her eyes searched my features, no doubt seeing her own son there. “I’ve come to speak with you and your husband. I...I don’t know where to begin, or how to say what I have to say.” I had never felt so awkward in all my life. My grandmother peered at me, then after an awkward pause invited me in. I sat on the sofa while she quickly cleaned up her ruined mug. I looked around me, wondering how much the living room had changed since my dad lived there. It looked as though the house could’ve been just as it was when he’d lived there, nearly twenty years ago. Had my dad sat on this very couch? I didn’t doubt it. There was a large picture sitting on the mantle. It was like looking into a mirror. It was a school photo of my

dad. When my eyes locked on it, where I was really hit me. I missed my dad so much I felt as if I’d cry. Mrs. Potter walked back into the living room. A part of me wanted to hug her, but most of me wanted to scream at her for not preventing my father’s death. Anger welled up in my heart. Why hadn’t she stopped it? Why hadn’t she saved him? I fought to control my emotions. Anger would not serve me. The past was the past. My grandmother sat across from me in an old worn armchair, a kindly looking woman, aging, but still carrying a quiet beauty. I closed my eyes for a moment, and then opened them again. She was looking at me with a mixture of shock, recognition, suspicion, and fear. The silence grew awkward again and it was a tremendous struggle to speak. My voice sounded unsteady and hoarse in my own ears as I spoke at last. “I don’t know how to say this. I don’t know how you’ll take it. But, I’m just going to say it before my courage entirely fails. I’m... I’m Taylor’s son.” If my grandmother would’ve had another coffee mug in her hand, it would have broken too. She put her hand to her heart and I feared the shock was about to kill her. I think that what I told her was already running through her mind. Here I was, a virtual twin to her son, just the right age to be her grandson, a grandson she never suspected might exist. “I can prove it,” I said, rushing on—my words tumbling over one another in my anxiety. It was as if I had to get everything out at once. I opened my

backpack and pulled out my birth certificate. I passed her a pale green sheet of paper. Taylor Potter was written clearly upon it in the space provided for the father’s name. Mrs. Potter gazed at me intently, boring into my eyes with her own. The silence grew awkward, then agonizing. Tears rolled down her cheeks. Anger and pain was evident in her eyes. “You can’t be my grandson,” she said at last, her voice cracking. “My boy...He didn’t...He wouldn’t...” I was bewildered. How could she ignore such obvious, concrete evidence? My physical appearance alone should have been proof enough. She herself had been so shocked when she first saw me that it cost her a coffee mug. Ethan and Nathan had told me I looked exactly like Taylor. I had my birth certificate. How could she not believe me? “I am Taylor’s son.” Mrs. Potter’s eyes narrowed. “This isn’t funny! I think you’d better go.” Her voice trembled. Anger filled my heart. This was the woman who hadn’t been there when my dad needed her the most. This was the woman who stood idly by while her husband kicked my dad out of the house. Years of pain welled up inside me, all the emotional hurt of being a fatherless son, all the years of yearning for a father I could never know. “So this is how you’re going to treat me, is it? You’re going to just ignore me, like you ignored my dad? You

wouldn’t accept that he was gay. You just stood by and let him be abused. You let his father beat him! You didn’t do anything when he kicked my dad out of the house! If it weren’t for you and your husband, my dad would still be alive! You might as well have killed him yourself!” My voice was hoarse with anger and tears. I knew I shouldn’t have said what I did, but it all came spilling out. I knew if I stayed there a moment more, I’d say even more. I stuffed my birth certificate into the backpack and headed for the door. “You aren’t my grandson. If this is some attempt to get money or, or whatever, just because you look like him...It’s wicked and cruel. How could you?” I turned and faced her. “I don’t want anything from you! I just wanted to meet my grandparents. I just wanted to learn about my dad! I thought we could...Never mind. I can see this was a mistake. You were never there for him. Why should I expect you to be there for me?” I slammed the door and ran to the car. I drove back toward the farm, tears streaming down my face. I gripped the steering wheel so tightly my knuckles turned white. I’d made a terrible mistake. I’d only managed to dredge up old pain and open up old wounds. I was glad Ralph was near. I needed him to hold me and tell me that everything was going to be okay.

Ralph Jordan had set out on his own for the day, so I was left to myself. Well, I wasn’t really alone; Ethan and Nathan were around, but they were out and about doing farm work most of the time. I took the opportunity to do some exploring. The Selby farm reminded me of my parents’ place, only it was much bigger and was an actual working farm. My parents just rented out their acreage, but Ethan and Nathan farmed their ground themselves. They also kept cattle, horses, and chickens. Mom and Dad’s barn was mostly empty, but Ethan and Nathan’s was filled with tractors, feed bins, tools, and all kinds of farm implements. I wandered around in the cool, dusty darkness for quite a while. It was a kickass place to explore. I especially liked the hayloft. It looked like it’d be a good place to have some fun with Jordan and I’m not talking about just wrestling around in the hay. I smiled wickedly to myself. Just thinking about Jordan made my heart beat faster. I climbed down the ladder and looked around a bit more. I stopped to pet one of the chickens, who was sitting on her nest. There were about two dozen chickens, each with a nice little nest. They looked all comfy and warm. A single rooster strutted around and cocked his eye at me. He was a beautiful goldenorange. He seemed quite pleased with himself.

The horse stalls were as neat as they could be. If I’d been a horse, I’d have been proud to sleep there. Near the horse stalls, there was an area for sheep and other farm animals, also neat and tidy. The mounds of sweet smelling straw looked as if they’d be comfy and warm. A couple of sheep were resting there, bedded down for a nap. Most of the animals were elsewhere, however. I left the barn, my feet following a grassy road. On either side were large fields, lately covered with tall corn, but now empty. I breathed in the fresh air. I’d missed it. I loved being with Jordan, but I often yearned for the country. I’d grown up there. I’d spent most of my childhood thinking rural life was boring, but I’d come to appreciate it at last. I’d been with Jordan in Los Angeles for the last few months. It was teeming with life, never sleeping, never halting, even for a moment. I loved it, but I still yearned for the country. Everyone in L.A. seemed to be involved with show business. Being around plain, ordinary people was a refreshing change. Ethan and the others were real— where a lot of the people I met in California seemed almost artificial—like they were merely characters in a play, only they never took off their makeup. They were always acting, always pretending to be someone they weren’t. I felt like I couldn’t really get to know anyone in L.A., because I never saw the real person inside, only a persona carefully crafted to present the best image. L.A. was all about business. Even the parties seemed to be about little more than networking and making just the right impression. I was glad that Jordan was always

real. He didn’t act any different at a big Hollywood party than he did at home. He treated everyone the same, too. It didn’t matter if he was talking to Tom Cruise or someone he just met on the street, he was always kind and attentive. I liked that. I don’t think I could’ve loved someone who only had time for “important” people. Jordan shared my opinion that everyone was worth knowing. Most of the time in L.A. we were living in a house Jordan rented with Ross and Kieran, the other members of Phantom. They were working on putting a new album together and spent long hours songwriting and coming up with just the right sound. The time it took to put an entire album together was simply unbelievable. We were in recording studios a lot, too, but at a thousand or so dollars an hour, recording time was limited. Most of the preliminary work was done in the basement of the house, where Chad, Phantom’s soundman, had set up a makeshift studio. When the guys weren’t working on the album, there were public appearances to make, autograph signings and such. There was also the odd charity performance. Life with Jordan was anything but boring. That’s one reason it was so relaxing to get away from it all. They say you don’t miss something until it’s gone and I guess it’s true. I never missed the simple life until it wasn’t there anymore. It was good to be back. At the far edge of the fields, the grassy road I trod faded into nothing more than a well-worn path. I stopped and contemplated the way before me. The path

began at the border of a great forest, entering through an archway formed by two giant oaks. It was darker inside the wood so that I couldn’t see far down the trail. I was reminded of a tunnel, only this one was fashioned entirely of towering trees. I was in the mood for a bit of adventure, so I followed to see where it might lead. Once inside, it wasn’t nearly as dark as it’d first appeared, although it was dimmer than the bright sunlight of the open fields. A carpet of leaves lay on the path, rustling as I passed over them, but a few were still hanging on—resplendent in their fall colors of yellow, orange, and gold. I loved even the grays of the tree trunks. I’d always loved trees. It amazed me that plants could grow so tall. Trees were all over the place so most people took them for granted. If they were extinct, I could just imagine people dreaming about getting to actually see one. I gazed at them in wonder, as if they were indeed rare. I had a unique way of looking at things. In my mind, I could envision a world where trees no longer existed, where they were long extinct, part of the dinosaur age or something. If I lived in such a world, how awesome would it be to go back in time and see actual, living trees? After thinking such thoughts, I looked at the trees surrounding me with a sense of awe. I thought about a lot of things that way. Like, what if there was only one dog in the whole world? Think how fascinated we’d all be by it. Or, what if no cars existed? Everyone would ooh and ah over one if it was in a movie. It would be like the Batmobile, only more impressive, even though it was just an ordinary car. Thinking about stuff like that gave me a

greater appreciation for things. It made ordinary things extraordinary. I came upon a small log cabin, sitting not far from a beautiful little lake. I smiled, thinking of the little log cabin that Jordan had purchased not so many months ago. We’d been on the lookout for a little getaway location, but never found anything that was quite right. A friend of my parents heard us talking about it and said she had a log cabin we could have if we wanted to move it. It was part of a dilapidated house that needed to be torn down. Jordan and I went out and looked at it. We couldn’t tell much from the outside, because the cabin was hidden by old wooden siding. It just looked like a little house with peeling white paint and a sagging roof. When we went inside and knocked down one of the plaster walls, we found hand-hewn logs behind it. The house had four rooms, but only one was log. I guess someone had built a log cabin there, and then built around it later. Jordan and I drove around and found a little piece of property for sale. It was only a couple of miles or so from my parents’ farm. There was a little woods there and an open area with pine trees. It wasn’t a big piece of land, but it was beautiful. Jordan bought it and we hired someone to move the cabin for us and put in a new floor and roof. We thought about doing it ourselves, but neither of us were carpenters. Besides, some of those logs probably weighed 600 pounds or more. What really kept it from becoming a do-ityourself project was lack of time. We were only in

Indiana for a very short visit and we had to head back to L.A. We hadn’t even seen our cabin yet, although it was all set up. It was even partially furnished. Jordan and I looked around in little antique shops now and then and had shipped a few things to my parents in Indiana. They delivered them to our cabin in dad’s old pickup. That’s where the big cupboard that Jordan had purchased earlier was headed. In recent weeks, we’d found several pieces. We wanted the cabin to have a kind of primitive look. The idea was to have a little cabin in the woods that looked as if it had been there forever. When Phantom was making an appearance in Oklahoma, we’d found a turn-of-the-century oak kitchen table with lion’s paw feet and a couple of old hunter green chairs to go with it. In Virginia, we’d discovered a two hundred year old pine settle. I’d never heard of one before, but it was like a bench with a really high back. It looked pretty cool. Jordan and I were planning on going treasure hunting when we got back to southern Indiana. It was the next destination on our list. I looked around the cabin a bit more, but didn’t go inside. There were wild flowers growing around it. It was such a peaceful place. I couldn’t wait to see our cabin. I wondered if it would be like the one before me. It was odd having something like that, and never having seen it. I left the cabin and walked down to the little lake. I skipped rocks across it and wondered how Jordan was doing. He said he was going to visit his dad’s grave and

then maybe go and see his grandparents. I wondered if he could work up the courage and if so, how it went. I hoped all went well for Jordan. That’s what this trip was about. When he’d received his dad’s journal in the mail, it’d stirred up all the questions that were never far from Jordan’s thoughts. I hoped he’d be able to find some answers. It wasn’t long before I found out. I was nearing the barn, returning from my walk, when Jordan came running to me. I was so lost in my own thoughts that I didn’t know he was near until he was practically on top of me. He wrapped his arms around me, put his head on my shoulder, and cried. I held him as sobs racked his slim body. I petted his hair, hugged him tight, and let him cry himself out. I didn’t try to talk. I knew he just needed to be held. In a few minutes, he raised his head and looked at me with reddened eyes. “I met my grandmother,” he said. “She wouldn’t even believe I was her grandson. I showed her my birth certificate and everything, but she wouldn’t believe me.” I wondered how that was possible. Even without a document saying it was true, one look at Jordan left no doubt he was Taylor’s son. “I’m so sorry, Jordan.” “I should’ve expected something like this,” he said, his voice quivering. “I don’t even know why I tried. They sure weren’t there for my dad when he needed them.”

“Did you meet your grandfather?” “No.” “Maybe he’ll be different.” “I don’t want to see him!” Jordan shouted. “I’m...I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to yell. I’m just upset.” “I know, Jordan. It’s okay. You just yell all you want. I know you’re not yelling at me.” “Why did I even want to meet them? It’s their fault he’s dead! If they’d accepted him and loved him instead of trying to change him, he’d still be alive. They might as well have killed him themselves! “My grandfather was the worst. You’ve read Dad’s journal. You know how he treated him. He actually hit him! The day Dad died, his dad actually tried to beat him. If he hadn’t fought back and got away...I’m so stupid! Why did I think anything good could come of meeting them?” “Jordan, you aren’t stupid. You thought maybe they’d changed after all these years. Besides, you mainly went to them to learn about Taylor, didn’t you? It’s not like you expected them to welcome you with open arms as their long lost grandson or something.” “That sure didn’t happen. I don’t even know if I’d want that. I just don’t understand how they could’ve treated Dad like that. It’s just unbelievable. If I had a son, I’d love him no matter what. What they did was evil. I feel really rotten for feeling this way, but I hate them.”

I’d never seen Jordan so bitter. I didn’t blame him, though. I couldn’t fully understand without being him, but we’d talked about it so often that I had a pretty good grasp of how difficult it was for him not having a father. It was a pain he always carried with him. How could he not feel bitter when his own grandparents rejected him, especially when they were largely responsible for his dad’s death? I knew that a lot more led to Taylor’s death than the way his parents treated him, but it was a big part of it. I don’t know what I’d have done if my parents hadn’t accepted me. If they’d rejected me when they found out I was gay, it would have hurt bad. That was the kind of hurt that didn’t go away, either. It doesn’t matter what you think of them; when your parents reject you, the pain is intense. I didn’t even want to think about what life would’ve been like if my dad had beat me instead of telling me he loved me when he found out I was gay. Taylor didn’t have that, and I pitied him across all the long years. His parents had hurt him in ways he couldn’t handle. Their actions were still causing pain. What they’d done all those years ago had contributed to the loss of their son, and was even now hurting their grandson. It’s too bad people couldn’t stop and think about the consequences of their actions. I bet a lot of people would act differently if they did. “Why couldn’t they have just loved him?” said Jordan. “Why couldn’t they have been like your parents? If they’d loved him and been there for him, maybe he could’ve withstood everything else that

happened. I know his life was hard, but if they’d loved him, maybe he could have held on.” “There’s always a what if, Jordan. It won’t help thinking about it. You can’t change what happened. You can’t undo the pain of the past. All you can do is love your dad and be as happy as you can be, here and now.” “I’m so lucky to have you,” said Jordan. He pulled me close and kissed me. I melted in his arms. I knew I couldn’t take all his pain away, but I’d do what I could. I’d love him and help him through the hard times. “Come on,” I said, “let’s go inside. I bet you missed lunch, didn’t you? We can have some of that chicken from last night or something.” Jordan leaned over and kissed me on the cheek. Despite everything, I couldn’t help but be happy.

Jordan “Dude!” It only took one word for me to realize that it was Ross who’d called my cell phone. “How’s the world’s greatest, drummer?” I asked. “I dunno, but I can call up Zac Hanson and ask him how he is, if you want.” “I was talking about you, Ross!” “Oh! I’m great dude. How’s the Prince of Rock and Roll?” “Shut up, Ross!” I couldn’t help but laugh. Ross could always make me bust out laughing, no matter how bad things were. “Hey, I was callin’ to see what you’re doin’ for Thanksgiving. My folks are going on a cruise this year. Can you believe that? They’re goin’ off and leavin’ me alone!” “Sounds like they’ve finally wised up.” “Funny! Anyway, I wondered if maybe you and Ralph wanted to get together with me somewhere, or somethin’?” “Umm, we’re staying with some friends in northern Indiana. You remember. We’re going to be here until sometime next month probably. Umm, I don’t want to leave you alone on Thanksgiving. Hold on...”

Ethan motioned to me. I put down my cell phone for just a moment. “If there’s someone you want to invite, there’ll be plenty of food. We have spare rooms, too.” “It’s Ross,” I said. Nick jerked his head up from his task of setting out plates for supper. “Ross? Your drummer?” “Yeah.” “Oh! Invite him! Invite him! I gotta meet him!” I smiled, and then put the phone back to my ear. “Hey, Ross. Why don’t you come here for Thanksgiving? Ethan says he has a room for you and everything.” “Damn, I’d like that, but I don’t want to put anyone out.” “I don’t think you’ll be putting anyone out.” “P-l-e-a-s-e come!” yelled Nick. “Who’s that?” “Someone who wants to meet you, real bad. You better bring some pictures to autograph for him. So, you coming? We’d all love to have you.” “Just tell him he’s comin’, or else!” yelled Nick. “Hmm, I guess I better,” laughed Ross. “It sounds like I’ll be in trouble if I don’t.” “Sweet.”

Ross said he’d check on flights, and then get back to me later. We talked a bit more. He was still at the house in L.A. with Kieran. They were having a great time doing nothing, for a change. We’d all been working hard and needed a break. When I got off the phone, I felt a lot better about things. Ross had that effect on me. He was crazy. *** I popped onto the internet for a bit while Ralph was reading in bed. I’d given Hunter my AIM name so we could talk. I enjoyed chatting with him and he was obviously lonely. He’d told me that he spent a few hours every night talking to people on the internet. I’d no more than signed on when I had a message from him. “Hey Jordan, what’s up?” “I just got on to see if you were on.” “If it’s night, I’m online! It’s what us guys without lives do.” “I’m sure you have a life.” “Well, yeah, but not the best. It’s okay, but kind of boring.” “I’m sure it could be worse,” I typed. “Yeah, I could have crappy parents or be living out on the street somewhere or something. Hey, have you heard Shades of Gray yet?”

I paused. That was the title of one of our new songs, but no one was supposed to have heard it yet, or even know the title. I typed “No” and waited to see what Hunter would say. “Oh man, it’s sweet. I just got an mp3 of it. It’s supposed to have leaked out of the studio or something. The sound quality is pretty good, so I bet it did unless Phantom just let it out. I sometimes wonder if they don’t ‘leak’ a song just for the fans or for advertising or something. Anyway, you wanna hear it?” “Sure.” In seconds, a message box popped up asking if I wanted to accept a file from “Number_1_Phantom_fan.” I hit “yes” and the file began downloading. “So what are some of your hobbies?” asked Hunter. “I’m mainly into music—both listening to it and playing it. I play the keyboard and I’m learning guitar and drums.” “Wow. You any good?” “I’m pretty good at the keyboard, but not so good with the others.” “I play bass guitar and I sing. I’m getting the guitar down pretty good now.” “So you sing, huh? That’s cool.” “Well, I’m not like Jordan, but I ain’t bad, LOL.” I’d learned that LOL meant, “laugh out loud.” I’d been confused a lot before I finally figured it out.

I steered the conversation away from Phantom as much as I could. It felt weird talking about myself as if I wasn’t me. I was also afraid I’d say too much and Hunter might begin to suspect who I was. When the song had downloaded, however, Hunter immediately asked me what I thought of it. I asked him to wait while I listened. Sure enough, it was Shades of Gray that we’d recorded less than a month ago. It didn’t sound quite like the final version. No, I was sure of it. Kieran had suggested a last minute lyric change in the studio. It was a minor alteration— just one word in fact—but the song Hunter had sent me was the unaltered version. I wondered who had let it out. Someone at the studio must’ve made a copy and put it on the internet. I wasn’t too happy about that, but then again, it wasn’t a big disaster either. “So, do you like it?” asked Hunter when I told him I’d listened to it. “Oh yeah, I like it a lot,” I said. “All of Phantom’s music is just awesome! I’ve been into them since the beginning. When did you get into them?” “I’d have to say I’ve been into them from the beginning as well.” I grinned. “I wonder if Ross is as crazy in real life as he is on TV,” said Hunter. “You have no idea!” I typed, and then immediately realized I’d made a mistake. It was hard to remember to be someone other than myself.

“You’ve met him?” “Yeah.” “Oh my God! Where?” Think fast, Jordan, I thought to myself. “I was able to go to a meet and greet after a concert.” “You are sooooo lucky! I’d kill just to get to see Phantom live and you got to go backstage! I’m jealous.” “It was nice,” I typed. I didn’t like lying. I wished we could talk about other things instead of Phantom, but somehow Hunter always pulled the conversation back to the band. “Nice? Are you kidding? I’d about sell my soul to meet Jordan. I’d walk from here to California on my knees to meet any of them.” “LOL” “Did you get to talk to them?” “Briefly.” “So Ross was crazy, huh? What about Jordan? Was he as nice as he seems?” “Yeah, you could say that.” “Wow. Did you get to touch him?” “No.” “Man, I think I’d just pass out if I got to touch him. I’d probably faint just looking into his eyes—they are sooo dreamy.”

Oh boy, I thought, I really need to switch the topic. I was extremely uncomfortable talking to Hunter about me, especially since he didn’t know I was me. I felt like I was doing something horribly wrong, too. It was like I was taking advantage of him in a way and I didn’t want to do that. I just wanted to talk to him and hopefully make him feel better about himself. I wondered if I shouldn’t just stop talking to him altogether, but then he’d probably be hurt if I told him I couldn’t chat anymore. I was sure he didn’t need more rejection in his life. What had I gotten myself into? *** Ross gave me a hug the moment he stepped off the plane. He embraced Ralph a moment later. “Dudes! I’m so glad to see you!” “Yeah, it’s been, what? Almost a week?” I laughed. “Uh. I think we’d better be getting out of here,” said Ralph. A crowd was gathering. Ralph and I did all we could to blend in and not attract attention, but not Ross. He was wearing tight leather pants and a neon green shirt that read, “Yeah, I’m With The Band” in big bold letters on the front and “Phantom” on the back. I never knew what Ross would be wearing when I saw him. He could dress in anything from a wife-beater to an

Armani suit, and everything in between. Usually he looked quite normal, but sometimes he was wild. Flashes started going off and people were asking for our autographs. Luckily, South Bend was a small airport so the crowd wasn’t too big. There were maybe thirty or so people there. It was a small enough group that we could take the time to sign for everybody and let them take pictures and stuff. It was fun. Big crowds could get out of hand fast—even become dangerous— but a small one like this was no problem. A couple of girls insisted on helping Ross carry his bags to the car. He gave them each a CD we had both signed for them. They both kissed him on the cheek at the same time and Ross rolled his eyes. He was in heaven. “I guess we didn’t need Mike or Shawn this time,” said Ross. Mike was my bodyguard and Shawn guarded Ross. They were both off on vacation. “Good job on keeping a low profile there, Ross!” I said sarcastically as we climbed into the car. “You think the shirt’s too much?” he asked, innocently. “Uh, yeah. And the pants, and...” Ross laughed and drummed on the back of the seat with his fingers. Wherever Ross was, he was always drumming. “Hey, Jim called right before I left. Our CD should be out in mid-January.” “That fast? So when do they want us to start promoting it?” I couldn’t believe our record label would

have it ready in under two months. Of course, I couldn’t believe we put an album together in a little less than a year. That might sound like a long time, but it was a long, slow process. “He’s scheduling television appearances, starting about January 5th, but he wants us to do Letterman on New Year’s Eve.” “He’ll have us working on Christmas if we don’t watch him,” I said. I liked our new manager a whole lot more than the old one, who was dismissed by our management company after he got nasty with me for coming out, but Jim was still quite a task master. “I’ve already told him that up until New Year’s Eve is totally off limits.” “Way to go, Ross!” “He did mention Christmas In Washington, but I told him ‘no’. It’s the one time of the year we all get to be with our families.” I was relieved. Phantom had performed at Christmas In Washington last year and I wasn’t eager to do it again. It was just too nerve-racking singing in front of the President and First Lady and all those rich people. I much preferred our usual fans. We’d performed White Christmas when we were there, and I was so nervous singing the lead I just about puked right in front of President Clinton. That would have looked good in the papers. It was really cool getting to meet him. It about floored me when he said he listened to our music.

“So are your parents going to be around at Christmas?” I asked. “Oh yeah! They can’t stand not seeing me for too long!” Ross was drumming on the headrest so fiercely that I don’t see how Ralph stood it. Ralph loved Ross. He still hadn’t forgotten the way Ross flew hundreds of miles to clear up a misunderstanding that just about broke Ralph and me up. I hadn’t forgotten it either. “Well, we better enjoy the quiet while we can. When New Year’s Eve hits, things are gonna get hectic,” I said. “By then, we’ll all be yearning for some excitement,” said Ralph. “You’re probably right.” I leaned over and gave Ralph a peck on the cheek. I had the strongest urge to kiss him deeply, but I couldn’t do that and keep driving. “Don’t you two ever stop?” asked Ross. He was grinning. “Hey, we had to wait for months before we got to do anything. Give us a break. Besides, I seem to recall some rather incriminating noises coming from your room the night before we left.” “A fan was just showing me her appreciation.” “You better be careful with that.” “Hey, she was eighteen and we used protection!” “That’s probably more than I needed to know, Ross.”

He laughed. “I can give you details if you want. As soon as we got in the room...” “Uh, no! We don’t need to hear about your disgusting hetero exploits, really!” “Well, if you change your mind...” I was a little concerned about Ross. Months before, he’d admitted that he had an attraction to me. During the short time when I thought Ralph and I were through, Ross and I had slept together one night. It wasn’t planned, but it happened. I was a wreck because I thought Ralph never wanted to see me again and Ross was there for me when I needed him. Things got out of hand and we made love. I wasn’t sorry. Ralph knew all about it, and understood. Since then, though, Ross had been a lot more sexually active than before. Some nights he didn’t come home and I was pretty sure he was in a hotel somewhere with one girl or another. The tabloids managed to get a lot of photos of him with girls—coming out of clubs, hugging, holding hands, and sometimes even making out. He was getting a reputation as a player. The tabloids made it sound like he’d screw anything that moved and a part of me feared it was true. Maybe some of it was just innocent dating, but I had the feeling he was sleeping around. I was afraid I knew the reason why, too. I feared that Ross wasn’t nearly over his infatuation with me. There was even one night at the house when he had a guy in his room and I was pretty sure they were getting it on. Ross admitted he was confused about his sexuality. He was mainly into girls, but he had a thing for me. I was sure

he’d had a fling with that one guy at least, and there might’ve been more. I feared it was going to become a problem, but I hesitated to talk with him about it. After all, he was free to sleep with anyone he wanted. I just hoped he was doing it for the right reasons. What I really hoped is that he’d find one nice girl—or guy—to date and develop a real relationship. He didn’t seem to be going in that direction, however, and I didn’t want to see him get hurt. The trip to Verona seemed much longer with Ross in the car. I thought that now I had a good idea of what it was like for parents traveling with young children. Ross wasn’t a little kid, but he did act like one sometimes. He could be so infantile and it was annoying at times. I didn’t mind, mostly. Ross could be quite entertaining. Nick came out of the house while we were unloading the car. He gawked at Ross. “Hey, Dude! What up?” said Ross when he noticed him staring. Nick came forward and extended his hand. Ross hugged him instead. Nick’s eyes rolled back in his head and he just about melted. “You’re such a wild drummer!” said Nick, after two unsuccessful attempts to get his voice to work. “Thanks! I’m mainly just plain wild!” Ross started playing an imaginary drum set, right there by the car. “Here, wild drummer,” I said, shoving a bag into Ross’ arms, “help us carry in your luggage.”

Nick grabbed a bag and we walked inside. Ethan and Nathan were both out working. I wondered what they’d think of Ross. He had a definite excess of personality. Nick showed Ross to his room and we dumped his bags on the bed. “I can’t believe you’re here!” said Nick, looking at Ross, then at me. “Calm down, little dude,” said Ross, laughing. Nick gazed at him in awe. “I’m just so excited!” “Aw, it’s okay. I’d get pretty psyched if I was meeting me, too.” I rolled my eyes. “We’ve really got to work on your low self-esteem, Ross.” His face lit up with a maniacal grin. I could tell it was going to be an interesting Thanksgiving.

Ralph I couldn’t believe the amount of food that Nathan prepared for Thanksgiving. He let the rest of us help some, but he did all the real work. There was so much that it wouldn’t begin to fit on the table. The whole counter was lined up with platters of turkey and giant bowls of mashed potatoes, corn, green beans, cranberry sauce, sweet potatoes with marshmallows on top, sage dressing, and just about anything else you’d care to name. There were homemade rolls and bread, real butter, pumpkin pie, blackberry cobbler, peach cobbler, and a big chocolate cake with pecans in the icing. Even Mom didn’t fix such a huge Thanksgiving Dinner. Of course, Mom never had such an enormous crowd. In addition to Ethan, Nathan, Nick, Jordan, Ross, and myself, there was Nick’s boyfriend Sean, Nathan’s little brother, Dave, his wife and their kids—a seven year old boy, named Jeremy, and two one year old twins, Ethan and Nathan. If that wasn’t enough, there was also Brendan and Casper, friends of Ethan and Nathan (the older set, not the twins). All together, there were fourteen of us. It was crowded, but cool. During dinner, we mostly concentrated on eating. We were all talking too, but it was hard to keep track of what was said. It was just the kind of idle chitchat that didn’t require a lot of attention anyway. Ross clowned

around, of course. He taught Jeremy how to drum with his fingers on the table. “Finally, Ross has someone his own age to play with,” Jordan whispered to me at just the wrong time. I had a mouth full of soda. I was using all my might not to laugh out loud. If I did, I’d spray the whole table. It took several frightening moments to bring myself under control and swallow. When I did, I burst out laughing. “I heard that!” said Ross. “See the kind of thing I have to deal with,” he said to Jeremy, who giggled. Ross was smiling, but he had a mischievous glint in his eye. I knew he was about to do something sinister. “A toast!” he said, standing and holding his glass of soda high. “First, to Ethan and Nathan, for inviting us all to Thanksgiving dinner.” His sentiments were met with approval all around, but I wondered where he was going next. I knew he wouldn’t give a straight toast. “And secondly, to the guy who got me invited, The Prince of Rock and Roll!” “Shut up, Ross!” shouted Jordan. “To the Prince of Rock and Roll!” said everyone, laughing. Jordan turned beet-red, but he was laughing too. “You are so dead, Ross,” said Jordan. I pitied my poor boyfriend. Jordan did his best to keep his nickname a secret, but Ross delighted in tormenting him with it. I was amazed he hadn’t announced it at a press conference. Ross wasn’t the only one who tormented Jordan. The entire band and road crew loved to tease

him about it. It embarrassed the hell out of Jordan, but he took it in good humor. We ate and ate and I got so full I thought I might pop. I usually tried to watch my weight a little, but Thanksgiving was an exception. I ate all I wanted. By the time we worked our way to dessert, I almost couldn’t handle it. I had a small piece of pumpkin pie, with vanilla ice cream on top of course, and a little blackberry cobbler. The peach cobbler and chocolate cake would have to wait. I just couldn’t handle them on top of everything else. Everything was delicious. Jordan and I offered to help clean up, but Nathan wouldn’t hear of it. He shooed us out of the kitchen, claiming he could do it more quickly alone. So, we went to our room for a bit and took a short nap. All that food made us sleepy. When we got up and came downstairs, Brendan, Ethan, Dave, and Casper were watching football on television. Ross was playing with Jeremy in a corner. They were pretending to have wrecks with Matchbox cars. Nick and Sean were sticking close to Ross and playing with the cars, too. Jordan and I went in the kitchen and sat with Dave’s wife, Gwyn, who was watching the twins. Nathan was making coffee and hot tea. Jordan and I both opted for a cup of vanilla tea. I liked the atmosphere of the house. It was “homey.” I kinda felt like I was inside a Norman Rockwell painting or something. Maybe I felt so at home because Ethan and Nathan’s place wasn’t all that different from Mom and Dad’s farm. Maybe that wasn’t it, though;

Jordan had remarked that he felt very much at home here himself. Jordan was definitely not a farm boy—he was anything but. We must have sat there just talking for a couple of hours at least. Gwyn took the twins upstairs when they stopped fussing and finally nodded off. Shortly thereafter, Brendan and Casper joined Jordan, Nathan, and me at the table. Nick and Sean followed Ross in like little puppies not long after. Pretty soon, everyone was sitting around the kitchen table, having a second or third or fourth dessert. At last I had some room for peach cobbler with ice cream, and it was delicious! “When are you guys doing another tour?” asked Nick. “Next summer,” said Jordan. “We’ll probably be starting in the spring. At least that’s the plan.” “Cool. I wanna see you guys in concert.” “We’ll get you and Sean some good seats, backstage passes, and all that,” said Jordan. “Maybe you could even travel with us when we’re in Indiana or something.” “That would be soooo cool!” “If it’s okay with your parents, of course,” said Jordan, looking at Ethan and Nathan. “Maybe I shouldn’t have mentioned it without asking first.” “It’s okay,” said Ethan. “We can talk it over later.” Nick looked hopeful. I hoped he’d get to come. I know what a thrill it was for me the first time I set foot

on a tour bus. I’d traveled with Phantom on part of their last tour and it was a blast. “Our manager is trying to schedule concerts for us in Indy, Fort Wayne, South Bend, and Evansville, so we’ll be traveling around here for a few days at least. We’ll be doing venues in all the surrounding states, too, so we’ll be in the area for quite a while.” “Man, I’d love goin’ around on the tour bus with you guys,” said Nick. “It’s an interesting experience. We had quite a road crew last time. They were wild.” “Oh man,” said Ross, “our main sound guy, Chad, is such a trip. He sounds and looks just like a California surfer. He says “dude” all the time. He is so funny.” “And he’s a whiz with electrical equipment, sound boards, instruments, and everything,” said Jordan. “I don’t think we could tour without him.” “He reminds me of someone I knew when I was a boy,” said Brendan. “He had that ‘dude’ thing going as well. I thought he was a surfer or something when we met, but he’d never even been out of Kentucky. That’s where I used to live, Kentucky. Casper and I grew up there.” “I think Chad’s from Kentucky,” said Jordan. “At least he said he came from there. He’s been about everywhere. He’s been traveling with bands, doing sound, since he was a teen. We were so lucky to get him.” “How old is he?” asked Brendan.

“Um, mid-thirties, I guess. He’s probably close to your age.” Brendan looked thoughtful. “His last name wouldn’t be Paré, would it?” he asked. Jordan, Ross, and I all looked at Brendan surprised. “Well, yeah, it is.” Brendan looked at Casper. Both of them had an amazed look on their faces. “It’s got to be Chad!” said Brendan. He turned back to Jordan. “I went through some rough times with this really cool guy, Chad. He more or less saved my ass from this horrible reparative therapy place, where they try to convert gays into being straight with psychological quackery and tons of drugs. I’d probably be dead, or a vegetable, if it weren’t for Chad. The last I heard from him, he was traveling with some rock band, but that was fifteen years ago or so.” “This is amazing!” said Jordan. “I bet it is him. Chad has this total aversion to drugs. He won’t even take aspirin if he gets a headache. I always wondered why.” “If you’d been through what we experienced, you’d understand. I’m not too thrilled with even prescription drugs. They did some nasty stuff to us in there.” “What kind of stuff, if you don’t mind my asking?” said Jordan. He was understandably curious. Chad’s past was kind of a mystery to us. “I don’t mind. They kept us on drugs to keep us from making trouble. Chad taught me how to tuck pills under

my tongue or my brain would’ve been fried like some of the other guys in there. The staff was like something out of a sci-fi horror movie. Most of them acted all caring, but their real purpose was to force the kids in there to go hetero, as if such a thing were possible. They tore down our resistance with drugs, and then hit us with a lot of bullshit. The worst of it was the shock therapy. They’d take us into a room, one at a time, and hook up electrodes and shock us in very private places when we didn’t react like they wanted. Some people would call it “aversion therapy”, but torture was what it was.” “You mean they like...shocked your...stuff?” I asked. “Let’s put it this way, after I went through my one and only shock session—thank God—the orderlies were joking around about fried wieners.” “Owwww,” said Ross with a grimace. I sympathized with his reaction. Just hearing about what’d been done to Brendan made my manhood shrivel up. “Some of the staff were pretty sick, too. They could get away with about anything in there. I don’t want to say a lot about it, but rape wasn’t uncommon.” “Shit,” said Ross. “No wonder Chad has such an aversion to drugs,” said Jordan. “Yeah, even after all this time...” said Brendan. Casper took his hand and squeezed it. He looked at Brendan with love in his eyes.

“Hey!” yelled Ross, much too loudly, “I’ve got a picture of Chad in my wallet.” He took it out and handed it to Brendan. “That’s him! He’s a lot older, but I’d know him anywhere. Where’s he at now?” “California,” said Jordan. “We’ve got a house rented out there. He stays with us and handles all the sound and recording equipment.” “Can you give me the number?” asked Brendan. It’d been a long time since I’d seen anyone that excited about anything. “Of course,” said Jordan. Nathan dug some paper and a pen out of a drawer and Jordan wrote down the number for Brendan. “Why don’t you use the phone upstairs,” said Ethan. “There’s too much noise down here.” “Noise! There’s noise?” yelled Ross. He grabbed Nick around the neck and started playing his head like a bongo drum. Nick giggled. Brendan smiled and took the paper. “Come on,” he said to Casper, and the two ran up the stairs. The rest of us ate and talked. I desperately wanted to try some chocolate cake, but the peach cobbler and ice cream had re-stuffed me. I could only look at it longingly. I promised myself I’d have some tomorrow, or maybe later that night.

Brendan and Casper returned nearly an hour later. Our Chad and theirs was indeed one and the same. It was odd how such coincidences took place, but then again, maybe not. I had the feeling everything happened just as it was supposed to happen. Jordan and I were certainly brought together by a string of unlikely coincidences. They were so unlikely, in fact, that I’m certain they weren’t coincidences at all. We were meant to be together. We all talked until late in the night. Jordan and I finally stumbled off to bed, along with everyone else. We undressed and crawled under the covers. I mumbled a sleepy “good night” to Jordan, but I think he was already asleep before the words were out of my mouth. Dreams took me away moments later. *** The day after Thanksgiving, Jordan and I drove into Verona to do some more exploring. We invited Ross, but he elected to take Nick up on his offer of a tour of the farm instead. Nick seemed almost as enamored of Ross as he was of Jordan. That kind of frightened me a little bit. I knew Ross wouldn’t intentionally hurt anyone, but he was wild and crazy. He was single, too. I’d seen a little something in his eye when he looked at Nick. I feared that Ross found him attractive. I hoped that trouble wouldn’t come of it.

Jordan and I walked around the town park for a while. I could tell from the way he examined everything with interest that he was wondering if his dad had sat on the park benches, or played basketball on the courts. There was a wistful sadness to Jordan’s gaze that revealed both his excitement at visiting his dad’s old hometown and his regret of never having known him. Jordan had come to Verona for answers, but would he find them? No one seemed to recognize Jordan as we walked past the shops downtown. That was a relief, as I feared we’d have no peace. It was a welcome respite from the usual frenzy that surrounded my boyfriend. As we neared Café Moffatt an elderly lady stepped out of the café and onto the sidewalk. She gazed at Jordan with an uneasy air of recognition. Jordan tensed beside me and anger crossed his face. I was confused for a few moments, but then I put two and two together and figured out that the old lady must’ve been his grandmother. She looked at Jordan, nervously clutching her handbag, almost as if she expected us to snatch it. The silence was awkward and uncomfortable for all of us. “I think we need to talk,” she said at last. “Could you come to the house again?” Jordan didn’t answer right away. He couldn’t quite let go of his anger. He knew, however, that the woman standing before him had answers to his questions. She was Taylor’s very own mother, after all. I remained silent, but hoped he’d accept her invitation. Jordan had

old wounds that needed to be healed. Perhaps his grandmother could help. “Do you believe I am who I say I am?” asked Jordan, finally. “Yes. Yes, of course,” said the old lady. “I’m sorry about what happened before. I was just so stunned. I’d never even considered the possibility...It just didn’t seem possible. And then there was the shock of seeing you. You look just as I remember Taylor. It was as if he’d come back to me. It stirred up so much inside me...so many things I’d buried. It was just all too much. I’m sorry—I do believe you.” The muscles in Jordan’s neck visibly relaxed and I could almost see his mood soften. “When would you like me to come?” “Anytime this afternoon or evening would be fine.” “I’ll be there, then,” said Jordan. They looked at each other for a few moments more, each searching for something in the other’s eyes, then Jordan’s grandmother went on her way. A mix of emotions played upon Jordan’s handsome features as he watched the old lady slowly walk down the sidewalk. I was worried about him. I hoped everything would be okay.

Jordan I didn’t feel much like sightseeing around Verona after crossing paths with my grandmother once again. She filled my mind. So many unresolved issues wrestled for my attention, so much inner turmoil raged inside me. What was about to happen? What did I want to happen? I felt lost and unsure. I dropped Ralph off at the farm, and then headed back to my dad’s old home. I sat in the car and gazed at it as I had before. This was his home—a place he knew intimately. It was the scene of so much drama, so many hopes and heartaches. There was so much history there—family history. Sitting there I felt as if I could almost reach out and touch my dad’s life. My hands were shaky and my torso felt tight as I approached the front door, not knowing what would happen once I was inside. The unknowns that stood before me made me want to turn and run away, but I knew I could not. I pushed aside the anger that I felt rising in my chest. I’d hear what my father’s mother had to say before making any final judgments. The door opened just before I reached it and I was ushered inside. My grandmother offered me a seat and I sat across from her once more. “I want to apologize for my behavior during your last visit,” she said. “My only excuse is that I was so stunned I just couldn’t think straight. When you walked

in that door, it was like all the years had disappeared and Taylor had come home again. It was like my boy was alive once more and the shock of it was too much to bear.” My heart softened toward the old lady sitting in front of me. I heard true regret in her voice, regret for years lost with her son. “I know it wasn’t your intention,” she said, “but I almost felt like you were playing some cruel joke. I’ve been so...” She broke down in tears before me. Her sobs tore at my heart. I could sense the pain behind them; an intense, tormenting pain that didn’t lessen with the passing years. I slowly stood, walked over to my grandmother, and sat beside her on the couch. I put my hand on her shoulder. She looked up into my eyes. “You look exactly as I remember him. When I look at you, it’s as if my boy has come back.” Her watery eyes almost pleaded with me, begging me to bring back what she’d lost so long ago. I wondered what it must have been like for her all those years. How did it feel to lose your only son? How did it feel to live with the knowledge that you could have prevented the death of someone you loved? “I’m sorry I was harsh with you,” I said. “It’s just that I’ve lived my life without ever having known my father. I said some cruel things. I know it’s not your fault, but part of me felt like you took him away from me.”

“It was my fault,” she said quietly, looking away for a moment. “I let it happen. I was so ashamed when I found out about Taylor. I was so upset. I was so afraid of what others might think that I lost track of what was important. Michael was always disappointed in Taylor. From the moment he was born he wanted him to be an athlete, but Taylor wasn’t like that. He was sensitive, the artistic type. His father didn’t understand him. He wanted him to be a football star. Taylor played soccer. He was good at it. But even that wasn’t enough for his father. When Michael found out Taylor was gay, it was the beginning of the end. I should have put my foot down. I should have stopped what was going on, but I was too wrapped up in my own fears and shame. I failed my boy. I wasn’t there when he needed me the most. I wasn’t a good mother.” Mrs. Potter began weeping once more. I’d been angry when I’d arrived. I’d wanted to give her a piece of my mind—to hurt her for the part she’d played in the death of my dad. When she didn’t accept me on my first visit, all the old pain came to the surface—all the blame and regret. As she sat there crying before me, however, I saw there was no need to blame my grandmother— she’d already been doing it to herself for all these long years. She’d punished herself over and over for what she’d done and what she hadn’t done. My anger turned to pity, empathy, and compassion. I took my elderly grandmother in my arms and held her as she cried on my shoulder. I cried with her, sharing her loss, if not her guilt.

Finally, she leaned back and dried her eyes. She gingerly reached out and brushed the hair back off my face, then caressed my cheek. “You look so much like your father,” she said. “He was so beautiful—so beautiful.” I bit my lip to keep the tears from my eyes. She’d accepted me for who I was. I felt like I had a grandmother at last. “Would you like a cup of tea, Jordan?” “I’d like that very much,” I said. I followed her into the kitchen where she put a kettle on the stove and set out two old cups and saucers, with a matching sugar bowl decorated with sheaves of golden wheat. They looked antique, like they were from the 1950’s or 60’s. I found myself wondering if my dad had used those cups. I found myself looking at everything, knowing that my dad had been there, that he’d likely used practically everything that met my eyes. Well, maybe not. My lifetime had passed since my father was in that house, but it looked as if the years had not touched it. Grandmother poured us both a steaming cup of tea and I added sugar to mine until it had just the right sweetness. We quietly gazed at one another for a few moments before my grandmother spoke again. “You must hate me,” she said, taking a sip. “No,” I said, setting down my cup. “I won’t lie to you. Part of me holds you partially responsible for what happened, but I don’t hate you—not at all. We all do things we’re ashamed of, things we regret. I know I

have. I wish you had been there more for my dad, but I guess I can understand why you weren’t. I know finding out he was gay had to be hard on you. It would be hard enough today, but eighteen years ago things were a lot rougher. Being gay wasn’t as accepted then. I know finding out about Taylor must’ve come as a shock to you. Even if you suspected it, finding out for sure must have been hard to take. It’s not my place to judge you.” “You’re being very kind to me.” “I think you deserve kindness after all these years. I know what happened has caused you pain. I’ve heard it in your voice and seen it in your eyes. There comes a time when you have to let go of the past. You made mistakes, but maybe it’s time to forgive yourself.” I almost couldn’t believe my own words. I nearly couldn’t believe that I was able to so easily release the blame I’d laid upon her, but with her sitting repentant before me I could find no hatred for her in my heart. The person that sat across from me was the mother my dad must have known when he was young, before all the pain that came to pass. Whatever she’d done or not done, she was sorry and I felt that my father would not wish me to hold a grudge. Indeed, I could almost hear him whispering to me to comfort her. “I can’t,” she said, hoarsely. “I can’t forgive myself.” I truly pitied her. No matter what she’d done in the past, she didn’t deserve to be tormented for it now. I had no doubt she’d paid dearly for her actions. She had to live

with the loss of her only son and the knowledge that she could have saved him and had a life with him. “I hope that someday you can forgive yourself,” I said. “Would he forgive me?” she asked. I knew she was talking about my dad. “I’m sure he would.” “But how can you know that,” said my grandmother. “Because I forgive you and I’m my father’s son.” She sat there gazing at me, tears streaming down her face. I felt nothing but pity for her in my heart, pity and mercy—and love. “Would you...would you mind if I called you Grandmother?” I asked. I felt my heart jump in my chest. I wondered if my grandmother could hear the yearning in my voice; the need to be loved. She squeezed her eyes tightly shut, and then opened them, blinking away her tears. She smiled at me. “I’d like that very much.” I grinned. I felt as if the pain of the past had melted away. Nothing could bring my dad back to life, but I’d just gained a connection to him. After all these years, I had a grandmother at last. In a way, it felt like getting back part of the life that I’d never had with my dad. “Can you tell me about my dad?” I asked. “What was he like?” “He was happy,” she said, “always smiling and laughing. Everyone loved him because he was so

joyous and friendly. The girls went crazy over him. He was beautiful, the most beautiful boy I’d ever seen in my life. Now, I know all mothers think their children are beautiful, but Taylor...he really was. He never seemed to know it, however. He was never vain. When someone called him ‘cute’, it embarrassed him to no end. He’d turn red and duck his head in the cutest way.” A smile turned up the edges of my grandmother’s mouth as she remembered the good years with her son. I found myself smiling, too. Grandmother kept talking, telling me more and more about my dad, mostly little things like the pet bunny he had as a boy, or the times he picked flowers for her and brought them home. I felt as if I were growing to know him better and better. I was getting a feel for what he was really like—an understanding that even his very own journal couldn’t communicate. I was receiving the greatest gift that anyone could have given me. “Would you like to see Taylor’s room?” “Oh yes, very much!” I was standing before I’d even finished the sentence. My grandmother rose from her chair, opened a cabinet, and pulled a key out of an old sugar bowl. She led me down the hall to a closed wooden door. The varnish was darkened and shiny. She fitted the key in the lock and I heard a click. She opened the door and stepped aside to allow me to walk in. “Everything is exactly as it was on the night that Taylor left,” said grandmother. “I locked the door when

I found out...when I discovered he was never coming back...I come in here from time to time to just look, but I never touch a thing.” I felt as if I were gazing at a moment frozen in time. I almost couldn’t believe that nothing had been touched in that room in eighteen years, but it was true. A pair of blue and white soccer shorts with “Verona High School” written on them hung across the back of the desk chair. A well-worn copy of The Two Towers by J.R.R. Tolkien, part of The Lord of The Rings trilogy, sat on the desk near the bed, a bookmark near the back marking the exact spot where my dad had stopped reading. There were posters of soccer players and old rock bands on the walls, as well as pictures of teenaged boys that I guessed must’ve been my dad’s friends. I peered at one of them closely. It was of a small group of shirtless guys. My dad was near the middle, smiling, with his arm draped around Mark’s shoulders. Even though many years had passed, I recognized two of the other boys as well. The very muscular one with dark hair was Ethan without a doubt. He looked the same as now, only younger. Nathan was harder to recognize. He was painfully slim in the photo, not the nicely muscled man he was today. One look at his face left no doubt as to his identity, however. There was a younger boy who looked just like him. I guessed that he must be Nathan’s little brother, Dave—the guy who now had three kids! I didn’t recognize the other boy in the photo. He was very handsome and well built.

I noticed waterslides in the background and thought back to the journals of Dad and his boyfriend. The photo must’ve been taken on that day they went to the water park. That meant the other boy in the photo must be Brandon, Mark’s best friend. I gazed at all the smiling faces. I felt like I was touching the past. I walked to the closet and reached out for the door. I looked back at my grandmother and she nodded her head. I slid the door open and there were all my dad’s clothes, just hanging there as if he were out playing soccer and could return at any moment. I trailed my finger down the edge of a pale green plaid flannel shirt. I almost couldn’t believe it; it was my dad’s. “Why don’t I leave you to yourself for a while? Take as much time as you like.” Grandmother closed the door behind her as she left. I sat on the edge of the bed and looked about me. This was it. This was my dad’s room when he was a boy. I was sitting on the very bed he’d slept in. He’d written most of his journal right here, probably on the desk a few feet away from where I sat. I had the weirdest feeling, as if I’d watched a film over and over and was now standing on the set where it’d been made. I’d read and re-read my dad’s journal. I almost couldn’t believe I was sitting in his very room. I stood and stepped to the desk. I carefully opened a drawer. It was filled with pencils and pens, papers and more. I stopped and thought for a moment. My grandmother had said nothing had been touched in that

room since my dad had died. The last time that desk drawer had been opened, it was by my dad. I reached into the drawer and pulled out a key chain. It was half of a heart. On the front it read “Mark” and on the back “Halloween World”. This is from that day Dad and Mark went to the amusement park with Brandon and Ethan, I thought to myself. Dad had written about it in his journal. He’d even mentioned the key chains that he and Mark had had made. Dad kept the one that said, “Mark” and Mark had kept the one that said “Taylor”. I held the key chain in my hand. It was a precious relic from my dad’s past. I put the key chain back in its place and closed the drawer. I looked about me. I felt more in touch with my father than ever before. “I wish I could have known you, Dad,” I whispered out loud. I wondered if he could hear me. The room felt almost eerie and yet not so. I felt displaced in time and yet entirely comfortable. It was as if I was looking at a museum of my dad’s life. It was as if I was back in 1980. If only I could’ve really traveled in time. I’d have given anything and everything to meet my dad face to face and to feel his arms around me. Each poster on the walls, each record on the shelves, even every small scratch and stain on the desk was a connection to my dad. This was his room. It’d been his private space. This was where he lived. Standing there was so overwhelming I actually forgot to breathe until my lungs threatened to explode. I miss you, Dad, I said to the still air.

A few minutes later, I left Dad’s room, closing the door behind me. I was beyond thankful his parents had left his room untouched. It was like being able to look into the past. My mind was filled with both joy and sadness as I returned to my grandmother sitting in the kitchen, making us more tea. I sat at the table and we talked about my father and her son. I felt as if I’d been waiting for this day forever. We must have sat there and talked for two hours or more and never about anything other than Taylor. As we talked, I felt a kinship with my grandmother. She was my dad’s Mom, of course, but a closeness was growing between us. I found that I was as excited and happy about our developing relationship as I was about all I was learning about Dad. I’d come looking for information, but I’d found a whole lot more. “Tell me about yourself, Jordan. Where do you live? I guess you’re still in high school? You’re what, seventeen? I must admit I’m most curious about your mother and when you were born. It’s all a mystery to me.” “Hmm, where to begin. I’m seventeen, but I’m pretty much done with high school. I have tutors, kind of like home schooling. I live in California, at least for the present. I’m a musician, so I move around a lot.” Grandmother smiled and nodded. I didn’t tell her I was famous. I didn’t think it important. Besides, I wanted her to know the real me, not the public me. She’d find out about Phantom soon enough anyway.

“My mom is Stephanie Scott. I don’t know if you remember her, but she was in the same class as Taylor.” “His girlfriend,” she said. “Well, I thought she was his girlfriend, before I found out about him, but it seems there may have been something there after all.” “He loved her,” I said, “and she loved him. He loved Mark even more, but Dad dating Mom wasn’t just a big fake. It was kind of an accident. I don’t know how much you want to hear about that, but it just kind of happened. Dad didn’t even know I was going to exist when he...when he died.” I swallowed. I knew the story all too well, but it still brought me pain to speak the words. “Where were you born?” “Away from Verona. Mom couldn’t stand it here after Dad died. The whole thing was just too much for her. I was born in Indianapolis and we lived there for a while, but I don’t remember it. We moved around a lot when I was a kid—Fort Wayne, Elnora, Jasper, Warsaw, Washington, and lots of other places. I can’t even remember some of them.” “Where’s your mother now, Jordan?” “Hawaii, I think. I hear from her sometimes, but we’re not all that close. Don’t get me wrong. She always took care of me when I was little, but I think what happened with my dad hurt her a whole lot. I think I was kind of a reminder of that. I went off on my own a few years ago, but we keep in touch.”

Grandmother didn’t ask more about Mom. I was glad. I didn’t like to talk about her. The relationship I had with Mom wasn’t exactly bad, but it wasn’t ideal either. I wished she was more like Ralph’s mom, although I guess I was lucky to have her. We talked a long while more. It felt good. It felt right. It was as if a part of my life that had been missing had just been replaced. I sat in the kitchen where my dad had sat; drinking from a cup that he might’ve used, and talked to his very own mother, my grandmother. I smiled and felt the happiness deep inside me.

Ralph Jordan didn’t say a word until we’d walked past the barn, but I could tell from the grin on his face that things had gone very differently than they had on his first visit to his grandmother’s. His eyes had a sparkle in them that only appeared when he was excited and truly happy. His face fairly beamed. Jordan was beautiful no matter his mood, but when he was happy he looked like an angel. When he started speaking at last, he talked so quickly it was hard to understand him. I was so happy for him I thought I’d cry. “How about your grandfather, did you meet him?” “No, not yet, but I’m going to soon, I hope. Grandmother is going to talk to him about it. His heart isn’t good and she doesn’t want him experiencing the same shock she did when I showed up on her doorstep.” “I bet that did kinda freak her out.” “Yeah. I probably should have written, or at least called. I guess it wasn’t too smart just showing up out of the blue, especially since she had no idea I even existed. Looking just like my dad didn’t help matters either. It’s a wonder the shock didn’t kill her.” “I’m glad that didn’t happen.” “No kidding, can you imagine? Whoa.”

We tramped over the fields as Jordan talked on and on about stuff he’d learned about his dad. It was wonderful to see him so happy. I loved him with all my heart and his happiness was my own. I halted and took his hand in mine. Holding his hand filled me with contentment and warmth, as it always had. Jordan looked down at our joined hands, then back into my eyes, grinning. I pulled him to me and kissed him deeply. When our lips parted, they did so only for a moment. We were soon joined again, seeking to get deep inside one another. We stood right there among the empty fields, making out and hugging each other. “We’d better knock this off,” said Jordan, his breath coming faster than it had before, “it’s hours before bedtime and if we keep going there’s no way I’ll be able to hold off until then. I already want you so bad I can’t stand it!” “There’s always the barn loft,” I said, wiggling my eyebrows at my boyfriend. My heart raced and I could think of little at the moment besides slowly pulling off Jordan’s shirt, jeans, and boxers. He was so beautiful naked. Jordan closed his eyes for a moment and moaned. When he looked at me once more, he had a hungry, wicked gleam in his eyes. “Let’s go!” he said. I grinned at Jordan as he pulled me along. I bet not one of his fans had any idea of how passionate and intense he was in bed. Jordan was sweet and sexy all the time, but when he became aroused, watch out! He was the perfect boyfriend.

We checked to make sure the coast was clear, then slipped into the barn and made our way to the ladder that led into the loft. Before stepping up on the first rung, Jordan pulled me to him and kissed me deeply, his tongue exploring the inner recesses of my mouth. My own tongue met his in a sensual dance. We pressed hard against one another, our arousal obvious. A loud moan rent the air. We froze and looked at one another shocked. The moan didn’t come from us—it came from above. Someone was already in the loft! More moans floated down from above and it was obvious that a pair of lovers was getting down to business. I felt like an eavesdropper as I heard Nick’s voice moaning, “Oh yeah, deeper, man.” Jordan and I looked at each other, our eyes wide. Jordan was suppressing a giggle and I bit my lip to keep myself from starting in. The situation was funny and frightening at the same time. I hoped we’d be able to get out of the barn without being heard. It would be an uncomfortable situation for us all, and especially for Nick and Sean, if we were discovered. I was so glad we heard them before we ascended the ladder. It would have been awkward and embarrassing if Jordan and I had actually walked in on them making love. Just then, we heard another voice moaning, “You like that? Oh, it feels soooo good.” All traces of amusement vanished from Jordan’s features. My shock increased. It was Ross! We quickly and quietly got the hell out of the barn. We hadn’t meant to spy. Neither Jordan nor I had any

idea that anyone was there, but what we’d heard was disturbing. I could tell from the look on Jordan’s face that he was shocked and appalled. We silently walked away from the barn and into the fields until we were well out of earshot. Jordan was smoldering with anger. “I can’t believe it!” he said finally. “I simply can’t believe it!” “Maybe it’s not what we’re thinking?” I asked, doubtfully. “Ralph, come on—there’s no mistaking what we heard. Nick and Ross were getting it on!” “Yeah, you’re right.” “How could he do that?” asked Jordan. “Nick has a boyfriend. I can’t believe Ross would take advantage of Nick like that.” “Well, it did sound like Nick was definitely into it.” “I don’t doubt that, but...I can’t believe he’d cheat on Sean with Ross. I bet he wouldn’t do that with anyone else.” “Except with you,” I said. Jordan gave me a hurt look. “I know you wouldn’t do it! I’m just sayin’, if Nick got the chance to sleep with you, I bet he’d do it. I don’t think he could help himself.” “Well, he’s certainly doing it with Ross. Damn it! Ross should know better! What’s he thinking, anyway? Sure, Nick wants it now, but what about later? What’s this going to do to his relationship with Sean? Ross

shouldn’t mess up someone’s life just for a roll in the hay. He’s become a sex-crazed maniac. I’m beginning to think he’ll do it with anyone who’ll have him.” Jordan was angry, no doubt about it. I could see why. Jordan took relationships seriously, as did I. He saw what Ross was doing as nothing more than breaking up a loving relationship between boyfriends. “I’m gonna talk to him,” said Jordan. “That might not be such a good idea,” I said. “I don’t care. Someone has to talk some sense into him.” “Jordan, I know how you feel, but it isn’t really our business, you know?” Jordan wasn’t too happy with what I’d said, but it was true. I knew he’d forgive me. “I can’t believe Ross would do this. That boy has a problem!” “Just don’t say a bunch of stuff you’ll be sorry for later,” I warned. “Don’t ruin your friendship with him. At least cool off a bit first.” Jordan was silent for several long moments. “Damn!” said Jordan, “I really wanted it, too.” I smiled at him and arched my eyebrows. “You’ll get it tonight, big boy. I’ll make you forget all about Ross.” There was a wicked gleam in Jordan’s eyes that meant he’d be particularly intense in bed that night. I thought I just might die waiting for it to get dark.

Jordan “Why are we standing in the middle of a field?” asked Ross. “Because we’ve got to talk.” “Dude, what’s up with you? You sound pissed.” “I am!” “About what?” “About you, Ross. About the way you’ve been acting.” “What? What’ve I done?” “More like, who have you done?” “Huh?” “Ralph and I know you were having sex with Nick in the barn loft.” “What?” said Ross, incredulously. “We heard you.” “What were you doing, spying on me?” “No, but that’s not the point. The point is you’re taking advantage of Nick’s infatuation with you.” “First of all, you spying on me is the point,” spat Ross angrily. “Secondly, I’m not taking advantage of anyone!” “Bullshit, Ross.”

“I don’t appreciate you following me around, spying on me.” “It was an accident.” “Uh huh.” “Ralph and I were going to go up in the loft to...to...” “To get it on?” “To make love,” I said. “That’s when we heard you and Nick.” “So? What I do is my own business, Jordan.” “Not when you’re hurting people, Ross. How could you take advantage of him like that?” “I didn’t take advantage of anyone!” “Ross, Nick idolizes you. He slept with you because you’re famous.” “Well thanks a lot, Jordan! You didn’t seem to think I was so hideous when you and I did it!” “I didn’t say you were hideous, and that was entirely different!” I didn’t like being reminded of the time I’d slept with Ross. It was at a difficult point in my relationship with Ralph, at a time when I thought he’d dumped me. Ralph knew all about it, but I still felt guilty sometimes. I was angry with Ross for throwing it in my face. “Listen, Jordan. I don’t know how you could think I’d take advantage of someone. It really hurts me to think you have that low an opinion of me.” “Hey, I heard what I heard.”

“So you’re calling me a liar? Is that it?” “Ross, Ralph and I both heard you and Nick.” “You don’t know everything, Jordan!” “What’s that supposed to mean?” “Just get the fuck away from me!” “Ross.” I reached out and touched his shoulder. He jerked away and whipped his fist back as if he was ready to strike me. He was trembling. “Get away from me!” he screamed. I backed off and walked away, my lower lip trembling. I figured I’d just blown a close friendship and I was still angry with Ross. I just couldn’t understand how he could mess up someone’s relationship for a few minutes of sexual pleasure. Ross could have just about anyone he wanted. Why didn’t he have the self-control to keep it in his pants at least once in a while? Why did he have to seduce someone who already had a boyfriend? I loved Ross, but his behavior disgusted me at times. I walked around the fields before returning to the farmhouse. I didn’t want anyone to see me in my agitated state. They might ask questions and I didn’t want to give answers. I sure couldn’t tell Ethan or Nathan that Ross and Nick were doing it. Ross was there because of me, so I was responsible for him. I didn’t even want to think about how angry Ethan and Nathan might be if they found out about Nick and Ross. I considered confronting Nick, but that would likely make the situation worse. What was done was done and

Nick’s life wasn’t my business. If Nick wanted to cheat on his boyfriend with Ross, then that was his business no matter what I might think about it. It was just such a shame. A good boyfriend was hard to find and Nick and Sean seemed so happy with each other. I hated to see Nick mess that up and I was furious with Ross for his part in the affair. There was a chill in the air, but my heart was colder still. I felt almost as if I’d been betrayed. Ross had done something I never thought he’d do. He hadn’t lived up to my expectations. It was like he wasn’t Ross anymore. I felt like crying. I’d never seen Ross so angry before. I’d never been so upset with him before either. He’d probably never speak to me again. I’d probably blown whatever friendship there was between us. Maybe Ralph was right. Maybe it wasn’t any of my business. But how could I stand by and watch Ross make such a huge mistake—a mistake that could easily hurt Nick and Sean? How could Ross be so thoughtless? I tried to soothe my mind with the beauty of the farm. I watched a large flock of sheep as they wandered around a pasture, seeking out whatever grass there was left to eat. In the distance, I could see a pair of horses galloping in what looked like a game of tag. I let myself become one with my surroundings. The Selby farm was a place of beauty and peace. All about me was nature— ancient trees, vast fields, and quiet meadows. I strolled along the grassy road that led between the fields, wondering what life was like on the farm. I wondered if

I could be happy in such a place. Perhaps not. It was beautiful, but my heart belonged to music. I was only truly myself when I was composing or performing. Still, the farm was a restful and comfortable place to visit. When I had myself under control, I walked back to the farmhouse. I slapped a fake smile on my face, opened the screen door on the front porch, and then entered the living room through the front door. Ethan was watching television. That was a rarity. He was nearly always at work in the fields. Ethan was scowling at the screen and I soon knew why. That television evangelist, Jerry Wellerson, was shooting his mouth off again and I didn’t like what he was saying in the least. Even if I hadn’t been so angry already, I’d have been infuriated at the words coming out of his mouth: We here at the Foundation for American Family Values and Morals are proud of the progress we’ve made toward cutting funding for gay youth centers, but we need your support. It’s the duty of every Christian to contact his or her representative and send a loud and clear message that our tax dollars should not be used to support the moral corruption of our youth. The morally upright need to stand up and say, “We’ve had enough!” The media is determined to push homosexuality down our throats by portraying it as a “lifestyle”, when in fact it’s an immoral, indecent, affront to God that endangers our children and the very fabric of our nation. The gay rights movement is nothing more than a terrorist attack

from within, brothers and sisters, and one that we must fight against tooth and nail. The gays will take over this country if the tide isn’t turned and they’ll turn the United States of America into another Sodom and Gomorra! We must bend all our will upon shutting off this movement at its very source—the corruption of our youth. If we can bring to an end the recruitment of our children into homosexuality, then we can end this threat once and for all. It is my pleasure to announce that we have successfully lobbied in the state of Indiana, and all government funds for gay youth centers will be brought to a halt at the end of this year. This small victory is not enough, however, it is only the beginning. We must fight and lobby until every state in our great nation follows suit and gives a resounding “No!” to homosexual recruitment tactics and immoral behavior! That is why I urge you not only to contact your elected representatives and make your voice heard, but to send us your contributions so that we may continue the good fight. Send us whatever you can spare—every last penny counts. What is protecting your children from the vile sin of homosexuality worth to you? We need your help now to stamp out... Ethan shut the TV off. He’d had enough. So had I. I couldn’t believe that someone could claim to be a man of God and spout such lies. How had this group, this Foundation for American Family Values and Morals, been able to cut funding to gay youth centers in

Indiana? Those centers offered counseling services and ran suicide hotlines. Where were kids going to go when they needed help? Who was going to protect them if the centers were shut down? It sickened me to see someone using religion to push their own prejudiced views. Wellerson stood right there and lied about what the centers were all about. He made it seem as if all homosexuals were evil. I’d had enough of selfrighteous bigots like him who thought they could define morality for the world. In my opinion, most of the world’s problems were caused by people like Wellerson; people who delighted in telling others what to do. “It’s hard to believe that people like that still exist,” said Ethan sadly. “It’s too bad they do.” “For all the progress we’ve made, there’s always someone who wants to pull the world back twenty years. Sometimes I wonder if we’ll ever be free of prejudice. If it’s not one minority group, it’s another. There’s always someone like Wellerson, some schoolyard bully that never grew up. It was people like him who...” Ethan stopped talking abruptly and looked at me. “Who drove my dad and Mark to their deaths,” I finished for him. Ethan gazed at me with thoughtful eyes. “Every once in a while, when I walk into a room and see you there, or when I see you walking in the distance, I forget

Taylor’s gone. For a few fleeting moments I actually believe that you’re him.” Ethan’s eyes were watery. I knew I wasn’t the only one affected by my dad’s death. Even after all these years, it still brought pain to Ethan and my grandmother and who knew how many others. When my dad was driven to suicide, it was like a stone had been thrown into a lake, the ripples racing across the surface, getting bigger and bigger. The loss of my dad touched the lives of so many. When would the pain end? And now, here was this supposed man of God spewing forth the very kind of venom that would lead to more deaths. He was striking at the very heart of the effort to save boys like my dad and—but for the grace of God—me. I pushed the wickedness of the world out of my mind. I had to do that sometimes or become lost in a sea of despair. My thoughts would return to Wellerson and his kind, but for now I wanted to leave that unpleasantness behind. “Tell me about my dad, Ethan. Tell me things you’ve never told me before. Anything, everything...I don’t care how trivial or unimportant, I just want to know.” Ethan smiled at me, his sadness forgotten. “Let’s go into the kitchen and get a cup of tea. This is likely to take a very long time.” Ethan put on a kettle and we sat at the kitchen table. I remembered the day we met and it seemed almost impossible that we both happened to be at my dad’s grave at exactly the same time. Then again, maybe it

wasn’t impossible at all. Maybe it was meant to happen. Ethan was like a gateway to my father. Through him, I’d received my dad’s journal and so much more. “Your dad,” said Ethan, “I don’t know where to start. There’s so much to tell. He was a wonderful person. I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone who was just plain nice like Taylor. He was one of those people who treated everyone like a friend. He was always smiling. I remember that well. He was probably the happiest boy I ever met, at least until things went wrong. “Taylor and Mark had a special kind of love that you don’t see every day. I think you and Ralph have that same kind of love. I’ve seen it in your eyes when you look at Ralph and in his when he looks at you. You look at each other the way Taylor and Mark did. It’s almost like you’re living their lives all over again.” I smiled. I liked hearing that I was like my dad. I wanted to be like him in any way I could. Ethan got up and took the boiling kettle off the stove, then searched through the cabinet for tea. “Blackberry okay?” “Sounds delicious.” Ethan set about making our tea while he continued to talk. “What else? Oh! Did you know your dad was something of a musician?” “No, the journals don’t mention that.” “Well, he was kind of shy about it I think, but he played the piano and he was good at it too. I heard him play a couple of times and he was amazing. And he

could sing. I only heard him once, but I was spellbound. He had the most beautiful voice I’d ever heard. I don’t think he ever sang in front of anyone, so no one knew. I only managed to hear him because I was sitting way up in a tree in the park and Taylor came and sat near it on a bench. I guess I was kind of spying on him, although I had no idea he’d come along. I liked to climb trees and sometimes I did it just for the hell of it. That’s what I’d done that day. There was no one else around and Tay started singing. He sounded like an angel. Taylor’s voice was sweet and musical. I think if he wanted to, he could have had a career in music, just like his son. There’s no doubt your talent came from your dad.” I smiled shyly. Ethan’s words were perilously close to a compliment. My mind was racing. My dad played and sang? I never knew. The blackberry tea was finished and Ethan set out a cup for each of us. I noticed that he had the same cups that my grandmother did, cream colored with a sheaf of golden wheat decorating the side and a rim of gold. I knew they were old. I wondered if I could find some in an antique shop. It would be cool to have dishes like my dad had used when he was a kid. “I almost don’t want to admit this, but I was quite taken by Taylor. This was before Nathan and I started dating, of course. I didn’t do anything about my feelings for your dad for several reasons. At the time, I was almost totally obsessed with my best friend. I had a major crush on him and that’s putting it lightly. I also lived in fear of being outed; so approaching your dad

was out, even if I hadn’t been head over heels in love with someone else. I’d begun to suspect there was something between Taylor and Mark, too. I was never quite sure about it, but there was just something in the way they acted around each other and in the way they looked at each other. I could’ve really gone for your dad, though—he was so happy and so beautiful.” I smiled. “People really seemed to like him, didn’t they?” “Oh yes. What was not to like? You couldn’t pass Taylor without getting a smile from him. Just being around him made you feel good. He had a magnetic personality. He just sort of drew people to him without even trying. His looks didn’t hurt either. He was beautiful to look at. One thing that really impressed me about him was his total lack of conceit. He was the most beautiful boy I ever saw in my entire life, but he didn’t seem to know it. I could’ve used a bit of his modesty myself. I kind of thought I was hot stuff back then.” Ethan laughed. “I bet you were hot stuff,” I said. “I think you’re extremely attractive now and I bet you looked even better back then.” “I definitely looked better back then, but I don’t know about being attractive now. Nathan likes how I look and that’s all that’s important to me. You’d better not mention what I said about your dad being the most beautiful boy I ever saw to Nathan. He might get jealous.” Ethan smiled. I knew he was kidding. “Did Dad ever come here to the farm?” I asked.

“Yeah, not often, but he was here. He came soon after he moved to Verona for a cookout. Mark brought him. Then, he came once, with Mark again, and we went fishing. He caught the biggest bass I’d ever seen, but he let it go. We had a blast that day. Let me see...there was Taylor, Mark, Nathan, Brandon, and me—I think that’s all, but I’m not entirely sure. One thing I remember for certain is that it was hot and none of us were wearing shirts. I was completely distracted by your dad and Mark. I spent most of the day stealing glances of them. They looked rather good without shirts. I think it upset Nathan that I was looking at them. I had no idea then that he was falling for me and I just thought of him as a friend. We didn’t get together until later.” “You guys have been together for a long time, haven’t you?” I asked. “Since I was your age. I’m so lucky to have him. He makes me happy. You can search a lifetime for what Nathan and I have together without finding it. Your dad found it with Mark.” “Yeah,” I said, “and I’ve found it with Ralph. We’re all very lucky.” Ethan laughed. “Your dad fell in the water while we were fishing. Nathan told me weeks later why. Apparently, Taylor was checking me out, got too close to the edge, and slipped on the mud. All I remember is hearing a splash then looking up to see Tay drenched. Taylor was kind of embarrassed, but everyone thought

it was hilarious. Even your dad laughed. He had such a great sense of humor, even when he was the joke.” Ethan went on talking as we sipped our tea. Most of the things he told me were just trivial little things, but that was exactly what I wanted to hear. I loved stories about my dad, and Ethan was one of the few people who knew them. *** Just after my chat with Ethan, my path crossed that of Ross. I was coming out the back door as he was entering. He put his hand on my chest and stopped me. I looked into his liquid brown eyes. I read pain and sadness there. “We need to talk,” he said earnestly. It was odd seeing Ross so serious and focused. I nodded and we stepped outside. I was angry and disappointed with Ross. I couldn’t believe he’d take advantage of an innocent boy like that. True, Nick was sixteen and therefore of legal age in Indiana, and he was free to make his own decisions, but I very much feared that Ross’ celebrity clouded Nick’s judgment. Before I’d publicly announced I was gay, how many girls had thrown themselves at me? Since I’d made my announcement, how many boys had done the same? I knew that the vast majority of them wanted me because of my fame. They were drawn to the glamour of the life they thought I led. They were drawn to someone who

wasn’t even real. They saw me up on stage or on MTV or some talk show like Rosie or Letterman. That wasn’t my real life, however, that wasn’t me. Sure, I did those things, but most of the time my life wasn’t glamorous. Most of my days were spent writing music, practicing, and dealing with the endless non-musical details that came with being a musician. Most of my life was just plain, hard work. It was work I enjoyed, but my life wasn’t the dream that most believed. The guys and girls that threw themselves at me didn’t even know me. I was afraid that’s what had happened with Nick. He wanted Ross because he was a rock star. His head was turned by the money, fame, and glamour. Ross should not have taken advantage of that. Ross stopped near the barn and turned to me, looking into my eyes for the first time since we’d come out of the farmhouse. He looked so sweet and innocent, so beautiful and vulnerable, so sexy. I could easily understand Nick’s attraction to him. “Listen, Jordan...I said some things before I shouldn’t have, but then you did too.” I started to speak, but Ross silenced me by placing a finger upon my lips. “Let me finish. I know you’re upset with me and maybe what I did was wrong, but you don’t have the whole picture.” “Ross...”

“Shhhhh. I know how important commitments and relationships are to you. I’m guessing that you’re mainly upset because Nick has a boyfriend.” I looked at Ross sternly, but didn’t say a word. A chill wind blew his long hair about. I shivered and buttoned up my flannel shirt. “I didn’t say anything before because I didn’t feel right talking about it and it was really none of your business, but I know you’re upset and I don’t like it when you’re upset with me. We’re too close to let something like this come between us. You mean too much to me, Jordan. So...I asked if it was okay to tell you. I explained about you and Ralph hearing us and about how you had the wrong idea. It was supposed to be a secret, but they said it was okay to tell you.” “They?” This was getting weirder and weirder. “I wasn’t alone up in that loft, Jordan. And Nick wasn’t cheating on his boyfriend, because his boyfriend was there.” Ross looked deeply into my eyes as if checking to make sure I understood. “You mean...you and Nick, and Sean?” “Yeah,” said Ross, biting his lower lip. My eyes grew as wide as saucers. Whoa! I thought. I hadn’t seen this coming, not at all. I was stunned. Ross, with both Nick and Sean? It was a few moments before I could speak.

“I’m uh...a little shocked, but this does change things. So lemme make sure I got this straight. You guys had a, um...” “A three-way, Jordan.” I swallowed hard. This was too much information. I could feel my face reddening. “If it means anything,” said Ross, “Nick approached me. I’ll admit I flirted with him. He’s a cute guy. But it was Nick that made the move. He and Sean had discussed it, and then I talked with them before we did anything. They wanted to...” “Whoa, Ross! I don’t want any details.” Ross got a wicked gleam in his eyes. He was becoming his old self. “You sure Jordan? It’s quite a story. We...” “Shut up, Ross!” Ross giggled. I knew he was playing with me. I bet he wouldn’t have gone on if I’d let him. “Damn, I’m kinda embarrassed now,” I said. “I feel like a nosy busybody.” “Go with that feeling, Jordan, you deserve it.” Ross grinned. “Seriously, though, I understand why you got upset. If Nick had been cheating on Sean with me, then it would’ve been bad. I wouldn’t have done that, though. I’m a little hurt that you think I would.” “I’m...I’m sorry, Ross. It’s just that I heard you two and there was no mistaking what was going on. I never

considered the possibility...that is, I never dreamed you’d be up there with Nick and Sean.” “Are you disappointed in me?” “No. I’m just kinda weirded out. I just didn’t think you and Nick and Sean...well, you know.” My face felt hot. I knew my cheeks were probably scarlet and it wasn’t from the chill in the air. “Maybe you and Ralph should try it sometime.” I couldn’t tell if Ross was just messing with me, or if it was a serious suggestion. A little part of me was afraid Ross wanted to be the third person. I didn’t want to even think about that. “I, uh...I’m not sure either of us would be comfortable with that. I’d feel kinda...I dunno. I just want to be with Ralph, you know? I love him. When we make love, it’s just that, you know? It isn’t just sex. It’s so much more than that. Anyway, I’m sorry, Ross. I apologize for jumping to conclusions.” “Well, I was kinda hurt. That’s one reason I got so pissed at you. We’ve been so close, Jordan, and then you...well, you know. But I can see why you’d jump to that conclusion. I bet you and Ralph about crapped your pants when you heard us!” Ross laughed and started drumming the air with his fingers. “We were definitely shocked. Kind of disappointed too, we had wanted to use the loft.” “Oh, baby! What were you guys gonna do, huh? Huh?”

“You know what we were going to do, Ross. I told you that before.” “But I want details!” “We were gonna stack some hay. What...” Ross cut me off. “So that’s what you call it! I bet you and Ralph stack the hay all the time, don’t you?” “You are just awful, Ross!” I said, but I couldn’t keep from laughing. Ross looked so mischievous just then. It was mainly in his eyes, but his whole face was lit up with this maniacal expression that showed he was ready to get into some trouble. It was a typical Ross expression. It was the look he got every time he was thinking about playing some practical joke. “Listen, Ross,” I said more seriously, “since we’re talking, I’m kinda worried about you. This thing with Nick and Sean, well, that’s your business. The other things you’ve been doing—that’s your business, too, but I’ve been noticing that you’re a lot more sexually active than you used to be.” Ross looked at me thoughtfully, but remained silent. “Your life is your business, like I said, and I don’t want to butt in, but I just don’t want to see you get hurt or in trouble.” “Jordan, I appreciate your concern, but I’m just havin’ fun, man. I’m not gonna get hurt and I’m not gonna hurt anybody. Yeah, I’ve been doin’ it, but I’m

careful. I always use protection. I’m selective. It’s not like I’m some kinda slut or somethin’.” “I didn’t mean to imply that you were, but it just seems there’s been a lot of girls, and then there was that boy you brought home...” “You heard us, huh?” “Well, no...I just figured. I mean, he did spend the night and you guys went in there awfully early.” “So I guess that brings up another question you wanna ask me, doesn’t it, Jordan?” “Another question?” “Yeah, cause of that boy, his name was Fabrizio by the way, and because of Nick and Sean. I’m definitely bi, Jordan. I didn’t think I was because the only guy I ever thought about was you, but then I started havin’ these feelings. I dunno, I guess they were always there, but I just thought about girls so much they never had a chance to come out. It’s not all black and white, you know? It’s more like shades of gray.” “You don’t have to explain to me, Ross.” “I know, but we’re kinda on the topic and maybe I just need to talk about it, you know?” “Yeah, I can understand that.” “I want you to know, Jordan, I have standards. And I’ve never slept with anyone’s boyfriend or girlfriend or whatever—unless someone lied to me, or somethin’. I haven’t done anything wrong, either. I mean, everyone

I’ve done somethin’ with was of legal age. I’m not stupid and I’m not out to hurt anybody.” “I know, Ross, I’m just worried about you. I think there’s something you don’t understand about love and sex. They aren’t the same thing. Yeah, they’re connected, but one doesn’t equal the other. You’ve been havin’ sex, but that’s not love. I think it’s easy to get confused about that. I don’t want to see you get hurt. I want you to have what I’ve got with Ralph. I want you to find some nice girl or boy and have a real relationship with her or him. It’s so much more...wonderful, than just sex—not that I’ve ever had “just sex”, but you know what I mean.” “I know, Jordan, but I’m not like you. I don’t wanna settle down yet. Hell, I’m just seventeen! I just wanna have some fun, you know? And havin’ sex is fun. Someday, I’ll probably find someone special, but I’m not ready for that. You know how hard it is for guys like us to have a relationship. We’re always busy; we’re always running from one place to the next. If there’s not a concert in a few hours, there’s an appearance, or an autograph signing, or whatever. I don’t see how you and Ralph do it, man.” “It’s work sometimes, but it’s worth it, Ross.” “I hear ya, Jordan. I’m just not ready for that.” I was silent for a moment. I was about to take the big leap and I didn’t know how Ross would react. A knot of fear climbed my throat.

“Ross, don’t get mad about this, but...have you been sleeping around because of me, because of the way you feel about me?” “Whoa! Don’t we think we’re hot? I guess the Prince of Rock and Roll thinks everyone wants in his pants!” “Seriously, Ross.” “Dude, it’s not about you. I’m just havin’ fun, like I said. Maybe I still kinda have somethin’ for ya, but I know you’re hopelessly devoted to Ralph so even if I wanted to start somethin’ up, I couldn’t. I don’t think I would anyway, somethin’ like that could end up breakin’ up the band. Don’t worry so much, Dude, I’m fine!” Ross started playing air drums, banging his head up and down, singing at the top of his voice. He was being his usual crazy self, but I was worried. I was afraid his kidding around was an attempt to hide his real feelings. I didn’t think he was over me like he pretended to be. I suspected that he’d become more sexually active in some deluded attempt to find a replacement for what he couldn’t have. Even if that wasn’t true, I was still worried about him. Despite what he said about “just having fun”, I knew he was in danger. Living a life like that could bring on a lot of emotional pain. That could lead to a lot of other things: drugs, alcohol, even suicide. Maybe I was being a mother hen, but I didn’t want to see Ross go down that path. I prayed to God I was worrying for nothing, but I feared I wasn’t. Ross said he was being careful, but what if he got some sexually transmitted disease or something? Hell, he

could even get HIV. He mainly slept with girls and that was where the greatest risk was now. Gays were way more aware of the risks than breeders. AIDS was now more of a heterosexual than a homosexual disease. Ross grabbed his stomach, “Man, I’m starving! I’m gonna see if I can find somethin’ to eat. Catch ya later, Jordan! I love ya, man.” Ross kissed my cheek, and then ran for the farmhouse. *** I didn’t doubt the explanation Ross had given me— about what was going on up in the barn loft, but if I did, that doubt would’ve been erased when my path crossed Nick’s for the first time. He swallowed and looked at me wide-eyed. I could tell he was embarrassed about what I knew. “It’s okay, Nick,” I told him, but he didn’t seem too relieved. When I saw Sean next, it was the same. I guess I’d have been embarrassed too if I was them. Having your sex life made semi-public could always be embarrassing. I sure wouldn’t want anyone walking in, or listening in, on Ralph and I when we made love. It was a private thing. I wished we’d never gone to the barn when we did. We were all mature, however, except maybe for Ross. We’d all get over it. ***

“Hey, Ralph, Sean’s going to give me a tour of Graymoor Mansion. You wanna come?” I asked as I walked into the living room with Nick and Sean. “Sure, sounds like fun.” “If you like haunted houses,” said Sean. I thought he was joking, but he wasn’t smiling. I remembered what Dad had written in his journal about Graymoor—how it was supposed to be haunted by some ax murderer. He’d never seen a ghost there, however, so I wasn’t too concerned. “Where’s Ross?” asked Sean. “Upstairs, I think,” said Ralph. “I’ll see if he wants to come, too.” Sean ran up the stairs and was back a few moments later with Ross in tow. Evening was coming on, and although it was only a short drive to Graymoor, the light was beginning to grow dim by the time we arrived. The skies had been clear enough when we left the farm, but now they were overcast and gray. The house was aptly named— Graymoor. It was certainly more gray there than anywhere else. I’d had a quick look at Graymoor from the street before, but when we pulled up I felt like I was seeing it for the first time. It was imposing and massive—a Victorian home of colossal proportions. It was so huge that it looked like it should’ve been a public building rather than a private home. The lot on which it sat took up an entire city block and the house itself covered

most of it. It was surrounded by an ancient iron fence with a towering gate that led to a sort of courtyard, with wings of the house running to either side. It was beautifully landscaped, but I felt a certain apprehension as we walked across the lawn. Even the flowers had muted hues in the shadowy light. I shivered—I don’t know if the cause was the chilly breeze, or something else. I felt like I was being watched. I stopped and craned my neck to get a closer look at the house. It was four stories high with a mansard roof that looked as if it were large enough to contain yet another floor. There was a tower above the east wing rising even higher into the sky. It might have had a stained glass window in it, but it was so high up I couldn’t tell in the failing light. Gargoyles guarded the roof. I knew they must have been huge, for they appeared to be quite large even from far, far below. My dad’s descriptions of Graymoor did not do it justice. I experienced a sense of foreboding as Sean pushed open the polished wooden doors, but the house had a wholesome enough feel. Sean lived there, after all, so it couldn’t be all that scary. I was comforted by the presence of others. I almost couldn’t believe my dad had run around inside the house all alone, so many years before. He was far braver than I. The room we entered was absolutely huge. It simply swallowed up all the ancient sofas, chairs, and marble topped tables that furnished it. It had enough sofas and loveseats for ten living rooms and still there was enough open floor space that a dance club could’ve fit

in there. It was dim in the massive old house, but Sean turned on lights and it gave the room a warm, golden glow. A scent hung in the air like polished wood, roses, and lavender. I didn’t see any roses or lavender, but the source of the polished wood scent was obvious. It was everywhere—dark and shiny and mellow. The house simply smelled old. I loved the furniture. The room was filled with the very kind of old stuff I liked best. I liked things that felt as if they had a past. I liked holding something and thinking about who’d owned it and used it. Graymoor was absolutely filled with things like that. Sean took us all over the place. We walked through an immense dining room with a table that could’ve probably seated two-dozen, a study crammed with leather-bound books and a beautiful cylinder desk, and several rooms that I guessed were sitting rooms or something. The kitchen was massive, as if it were the food preparation area for a large restaurant, but only Sean and his family lived there. I could see no evidence of the modern world there, until Sean offered us a drink and pulled out sodas from a refrigerator hidden behind a wooden panel. “That’s so cool!” I said. “Mom likes to keep everything new hidden. I bet you can’t tell where the dishwasher is located.” We all looked around, but modern conveniences were invisible. The stove was in plain view, but it was an old-fashioned one that probably used wood. Sean walked to what looked like an old dry sink, opened the

doors, and revealed a dishwasher ingeniously hidden underneath. “Your mom cooks with a wood stove?” I asked, admiring the old stove. I couldn’t imagine anyone going to the trouble of doing that. “No, it only looks that way.” Sean opened up a small door on the stove and turned a knob; gas flames leapt from a burner. “That’s really cool,” I said. It was clear that Ross, Ralph, and Nick were less impressed, but I loved the way that the modern world was hidden from view in the historic house. On the second floor there was bedroom after bedroom, each with a wonderful Victorian bed, and matching dresser and washstand. Each set was different, but they were all beautiful. Sean’s home had so many bedrooms it could’ve easily been a hotel. I marveled that anyone would build such a house. Sean said that the Graymoors had been a family of five. A hundred people could’ve lived in that house easily. I thought of my dad as we walked from room to room. It was in this house that Dad and Mark had met at night after they’d been outed. I wondered what rooms they’d visited. They certainly wouldn’t have had time to see them all. Graymoor spooked me, but knowing that it had been a place of refuge for Dad and his boyfriend gave me a sense of comfort. I felt as if I owed that old house for sheltering my father from the outside

world. I was grateful, and I felt as if the house somehow knew and appreciated that. Graymoor looked way better than I was expecting. I knew Sean’s parents had fixed it up, but Dad described it in his journal as dilapidated, even falling apart in some places. What I saw before me wasn’t like that at all. Every room was old fashioned and the furniture was obviously very old, but everything was clean and well kept. It looked as I suspected it must have way back in the 1800’s when it was built. Sean said there were lots of rooms that hadn’t been renovated yet, but we saw none of those. Sean showed us his room on the third floor. I loved the Egyptian figures on the pulls of his dresser. Sean said it was a style called Egyptian Revival, but I’d never heard of it. I got the weirdest feeling in Sean’s room. It felt as if something had happened there. There was a sense of fear and dread in the room that made my heart pound and yet there was a feeling of intense joy as well. I didn’t understand it at all. The feelings that came upon me were so contradictory that they didn’t make sense. My eyes came to rest on Sean’s bed. I just gazed upon it, feeling as if there was a memory there that I could nearly see in my mind—like a forgotten name that one can almost, but not quite recall. When I looked up, Sean’s eyes met mine and I felt as if he could read my very thoughts. The library on the fourth floor was fascinating. It was filled floor to ceiling with shelves that held thousands of old books, all of them ancient. There were no

Stephen King novels here, although I had no doubt he would have loved the place. The room had a slightly musty scent that wasn’t at all unpleasant. It smelled exactly as it should—like old books. I would’ve loved to have stayed in that room and looked through the ancient tomes, but there wasn’t time to do everything. Graymoor was so vast it would take days just to walk through all the rooms. “How many rooms are there in the house?” I asked. “We’re not really sure,” said Sean. “I’ve tried to count a few times, but I keep coming up with different numbers. Once, I counted eighty-three, but I know I didn’t get to them all. Another time I came up with sixty-seven, and then ninety-four on another occasion. Graymoor has a lot of twists and turns and is very misleading at times. I still get lost in it. It’s easy enough for me to find my way from my room to the kitchen or downstairs, but when I try to go to the Solarium or the old pool house, sometimes I can get there and sometimes I can’t. It’s almost as if the house changes.” “This place has a swimming pool?” asked Ross. “Not a working one,” answered Sean, “it’s one of the things my parents will likely never be able to afford to fix up. The pool house is cool. It’s all glass and the pool itself is about Olympic size. It’s all a horrible mess, however, and looks like something that belongs in a horror novel.” “The whole place kinda looks like the setting for a horror novel to me,” said Ross. “No offense. It’s beautiful, but scary.”

“None taken,” said Sean. “I find it quite frightening myself at times.” He exchanged a look with Nick and I had a feeling there was much more to tell. The scariest part of Graymoor was the basement. There was no electric lighting down there and Sean gave us each a candle. When the flickering light revealed a stone sarcophagus, I very nearly cried out in fright. I did a few moments later when Ross grabbed me from behind. I flailed my arms about so that the force blew out my candle and hot wax spattered on Ralph’s arm. Ross’ gleeful laugh echoed throughout the spooky chamber. I punched him hard in the arm and then Ralph helped me relight my candle. We explored the crypt, for that’s what it was, much longer than I liked, although we were probably down there no more than fifteen minutes. There was more than one sarcophagus and the walls were lined with burials, one on top of another. I guess the coffins must have been slid into chambers built into the walls, or hewn out of the earth. The crypt was large, but definitely didn’t go under the entire house. I was much relieved when we walked back up the worn, stone steps. The light in the house, which had seemed so dim before, now appeared bright. Standing at the top of the stairs was a good-looking boy who looked nearly my age. He had dark hair and was a bit tough looking, though not unpleasant. “Oh, this is my cousin Avery. He lives with us,” said Sean. “Avery, I’d like you to meet Jordan, Ralph, and Ross.” Recognition flashed in Avery’s eyes and he

jerked his head toward his cousin. Sean widened his eyes a bit, as if communicating something to Avery. “You’re that singer, right? Sean told me about meeting you.” “Yeah, that’s me.” “Nick made me listen to some of your stuff. It’s pretty good, although I’m not usually into all the pop stuff.” Avery looked at Sean again and back to me. “Everyone has their own thing,” I said. I liked Avery’s honesty. He didn’t pretend he just loved my music. He was genuine. “Ross, you’re the drummer, right?” “Yeah!” said Ross and drummed the air. “You’re kick ass, man!” “Your cousin has awesome taste!” said Ross, turning to Sean, who rolled his eyes. Avery joined us as we toured more of Graymoor. He didn’t pay much attention to me, except to glance at my face now and then, but he got on exceptionally well with Ross. Apparently Avery was into drumming and drummers. I could picture him and Ross running around town wreaking havoc. I saw a little something in Ross’ eyes when he looked at Avery. It made me a little uncomfortable, but then again maybe I was just seeing things that weren’t there. After finding out about Ross, Sean, and Nick, I wasn’t so sure, however. I was a little concerned that Ross might be contemplating another

conquest, but that wasn’t really any of my business anyway so I just forgot about it. We saw no ghosts in Graymoor, but I would not have wanted to live there. It was a beautiful place, filled with wonder and fabulous antiques, but it was too big and too spooky. I was thrilled to have the chance to visit, but I was not sorry to depart. I knew I’d always have a soft spot in my heart for Graymoor, regardless of its frightening qualities. My dad had found sanctuary there and his memory was alive in that place. The old home had protected him and I was grateful.

Ralph Jordan explained the whole thing with Ross and Nick in the barn loft. It wasn’t as bad as we’d thought, but I still wished I didn’t know anything about it. I tried to just push it out of my mind. There were some things I was better off not knowing. I liked to imagine people in a certain way and knowing about Nick, Sean, and Ross upset my ideas about them. It wasn’t that I was judging them or anything; I just had to adjust the pictures I’d painted of them in my head. Sometimes I had to remind myself that everyone didn’t think the same way I did. There’s no way I’d want a third person in bed with Jordan and me, but maybe Nick and Sean didn’t think that way. Maybe they could maintain a loving relationship even when a third person was involved. I didn’t quite see how, but that was their business, not mine. It was great to be back on the farm with Ethan and Nathan. It was so cool to see a gay couple up close. The picture I had of them in my head was undisturbed. Watching Ethan and Nathan together gave me hope for my own future. I was pretty sure Jordan and I would stick together, but seeing a couple that had been together since they were teenagers gave me a sense of security. If they could do it, so could we. Of course, their lives were vastly different from ours, but the point was they’d worked through whatever differences they’d

had. I hoped that witnessing their lives was a glimpse into my own future with Jordan, but who knew? The future is always in doubt. I felt a chill as the thought crossed my mind and rapidly banished it from my consciousness—at least I tried. I loved to see Ethan and Nathan interact. Tasks weren’t divided up the same way as in my parents’ house. At home, Mom always did the cooking and almost always did the housekeeping while Dad went off to work. They were kinda like one of those old fashioned families from the 1950’s I sometimes saw on TV—like Leave It To Beaver. It wasn’t like that with Ethan and Nathan, not at all. Nathan did most of the cooking, but sometimes Ethan did it. Most often, Ethan just helped Nathan, but sometimes he prepared an entire meal by himself. They seemed to share all the other tasks even more equally, except that Ethan did most of the work that involved heavy lifting. Of course, Ethan was ripped, so maybe he did it because it was easier for him. Supper was running late because we’d gone to tour Graymoor. Jordan and I had planned to help set the table, but Ross was just setting out the last plate when we came downstairs after washing up. Now that was a shocker—Ross setting a table! There was nothing left to do but sit down and wait while Ethan mashed the potatoes and Nathan finished frying pork chops. I inhaled the sweet cinnamon scent of cooked apples and my stomach rumbled. The corn and green beans

simmering on the stove and the steaming rolls that had just come out of the oven smelled heavenly, too. My eyes met Jordan’s across the table. His had that wicked gleam in them that both excited and aroused me. It’d been only a few hours since our aborted attempt to make love in the barn. I was burning up with desire. Jordan was too. That look in his eye meant he needed it bad. If only it was time for everyone to turn in! The talk at supper was about some TV evangelist whose name I couldn’t remember, and his morality group trying to shut down all the gay youth centers. Ethan was seriously worried about the one in Verona, which, I learned, he and Nathan had played a large part in getting started years and years ago. “You know what really burns me,” said Jordan, “is that Wellerson guy. He’s supposed to be a religious leader, but then he uses his influence and position to shut down centers that offer the very type of services that churches should be offering. How can he speak out against places that run suicide hotlines, help kids escape from abusive situations, and just plain help kids, period? I don’t think that guy knows what side he’s on. If he’s truly religious, he should be supporting efforts to help others. Maybe I’m wrong, but I always thought religion was all about help thy neighbor, do unto others, and all that.” “That’s what it’s supposed to be about,” said Ethan, “at least partly. The thing you’ve got to understand is that religion has often been misused. Over a century

ago, preachers cited passages from the Bible to support the cause of slavery. Some even preached that it was a sin to help slaves escape. Many religious leaders have abused their positions throughout time. Granted, a lot of them are just what they should be, but it’s a harsh reality that the wrong kind of men often come to power.” “How can anyone be stupid enough to fall for their crap?” said Ross. “I mean, I’m not known for being too bright, but even I can see what guys like this Wellerson you’re talking about are doing. They’re using religion to attack a minority. I’ve even seen some inciting violence against gays, African-Americans, and others. Can’t people see how they’re being mislead?” “Some can, some can’t,” said Nathan. “Somebody oughta do somethin’,” said Nick. “Someone’s going to,” said Jordan. The tone of Jordan’s voice made us all turn to him. The determined look on his face matched his serious tone. He turned to Ross and raised an eyebrow. “Think Kieran will go for it?” asked Jordan. Ross looked blank for a few moments, but caught on quickly enough. I wasn’t quite sure what was up myself, but I had a glimmer of an idea. It turned out I was right. “Yeah, he will, but the management company may not.” “What you guys talkin’ ‘bout?” asked Nick with a mouth half full of mashed potatoes.

“We might not be able to do anything about this F.A.F. group, but we can do something to save the center here in Verona and help out all the others. Our concerts pull in a ton of cash,” said Jordan. “Oh YEAH!” said Nick. “A benefit concert you mean?” “Exactly.” “It takes time to book a venue,” said Ross, proving he wasn’t nearly as dim as he sometimes pretended. He knew the music business backwards and forwards. “If we’re gonna do somethin’, we need to do it fast.” “We’ll sing in a freaking corn field if we have to,” said Jordan. “I know someone who’s got one,” said Ethan smiling. Ethan glanced into the living room where the TV had been left on. He got up quickly. “Everyone come in here,” he said, as he rushed toward the TV. We all followed to see some preacher being interviewed on the local news. I figured he was going to start talking crap like that Wellerson guy, but I was wrong. “...and we’re very concerned that the public is getting the wrong message from groups like the Foundation for American Family Values and Morals,” continued the preacher. “Too long has religion been used as a weapon against minority groups. This latest attack on gays by the F.A.F. is an obvious abuse of power. These centers for gay youth are vital to the well-being of many young people. I, for one, will not sit idly by and watch while

groups such as the F.A.F. try to tear down what has been built at such great cost.” “We have thirty seconds,” said the reporter, who was interviewing the preacher live in front of his little church. The preacher looked directly into the camera. “Please do not allow yourself to be taken in by the lies spread by the F.A.F. Seek for the truth yourself instead. Write your representative and let him know that the F.A.F. does not represent our community.” The section ended. It was obviously some kind of local response to the Wellerson piece that had been on the news earlier in the day. I was really surprised to see a preacher speak out so directly against the F.A.F. This guy looked like a simple, local pastor. I’d never seen any religious leader except for TV evangelists speak out publicly on political issues before. Ethan smiled. “You’ve gotta hand it to Reverend Gerard.” “You know him?” asked Jordan. “Oh yes, quite well. If you met him on the street, you’d see him as a quiet country pastor, but he can be quite forceful and outgoing when he gets riled up.” *** Jordan paced back and forth in the bedroom, sometimes thinking to himself out loud. He was so focused on the

idea of a benefit concert, I didn’t think he knew I was in the room. I tried to read my book, but even Harry Potter couldn’t keep my attention with Jordan pacing like a tiger in a cage. After a few minutes, I put the book on the dresser and just sat there watching my boyfriend. I was disappointed that he wasn’t pouncing on me. After all, we’d spent most of the day just waiting to rip each other’s clothes off. I was proud of him, too, for not only being concerned about an injustice, but actually setting out to do something about it. I could hardly be upset with him for helping kids instead of jumping into bed with me. After several minutes, he looked up from the floor where he’d been staring hard. His eyes met mine. “I’m neglecting you,” he said. “I’m sorry.” “It’s okay.” “There’s just so much to think about—so many details...” He seemed in danger of getting lost in thought again, but he jerked his attention back to me. “But, that can wait until tomorrow,” he said, with a wicked gleam in his eye. Jordan stripped off his shirt, flung himself on the bed, and covered my face with kisses. The tiger had escaped from his cage. I loved Jordan when he was aggressive. He tore at my clothing and practically ripped his off without getting

out of the bed. He was all over me. He lay full length on top of me. I moaned just from the sensation of his naked body pressed hard against me. Jordan pushed himself up on his hands and looked down at me, his long, blond hair falling down onto my shoulders and chest. He smiled and told me how much he loved me. His words sent a feeling of contentment shooting through my body. Jordan lowered his face to mine and kissed me again. I loved the feeling of our tongues dancing together. Jordan kissed his way down my body until I moaned so loudly I feared I’d wake up everyone in the old farmhouse. I struggled to keep quiet, but it wasn’t easy. Making love with Jordan was intense. *** Jordan spent most of the next day on his cell phone talking to his manager, his publicist, Carolyn, as well as Kieran and lots of lawyers. I had no idea setting up a concert required so much work. Then again, I’d never seen it done. Phantom’s management company usually handled that kind of thing behind the scenes. All I’d seen was what went on during the tour itself. I was beginning to understand just why Phantom had a management company. It was hours before Jordan got off the phone long enough for me to actually talk to him. “So, how’s it going? Is Kieran willing?”

“Kieran said he’d be here, no matter what—the rest isn’t so easy.” “Problems?” “Not so much problems, as details. There isn’t a sizable venue we can get anywhere near here without two months notice—everything’s booked. That’s no surprise.” “So you’re going to do the concert right here?” “Yep. You know that big grassy meadow, the huge one? I thought that would be a good place. We’ll have to use a cornfield for parking; it’s a good thing the crops are already harvested. It’ll be a little rough, but not bad. I sure hope it doesn’t rain. I was thinking we could also get buses and maybe use them as shuttles from town—that way a lot of people could park there somewhere and just ride the buses in. “My publicist said she’d handle all the press releases and set up a press conference so we can promote the show. The management company said they’d handle advertising, but we have to pay the bills. Advertising is only the beginning. We’ll have to set up security. I thought Mike could be in charge of that. He’s gonna have a cow I’m sure, but he’ll love it too. I’ve already got the trucks with all our equipment heading this way and Chad’s coming, so we should be set. Chad suggested extra amplifiers and speakers, since we’ll be doing it open air. We’re gonna have to get some kind of stage built and seating will just be on the grass. Man, I hope it doesn’t snow or turn too cold.” That thought

had entered my mind as well. December was on top of us. “How much is all this gonna cost?” “Plenty. We’ll have to get insurance and everything. Ross, Kieran, and I are gonna split the bill for the whole thing. We could take it out of ticket sales, but we all agreed we want to raise as much cash as we can. “I’ve talked the management company into footing the bill for some of it. I pitched an idea to them about shooting a Christmas video right here on the farm. There isn’t time to do a really artsy and cool video, but they’re going to line up a production company to come and shoot some footage and put something together for MTV. They’re gonna shoot a lot of extra footage too, and we’ll add more stuff later for a more professional video. They were even talking about a Christmas special, but that wouldn’t come out until next year. There just isn’t enough time to put it all together. The good news is that the management company will be paying for a lot of equipment we need, plus Christmas trees and all kinds of decorations. We’ll have the place looking really Christmassy. I thought that could kinda be our theme, although we’ll do most of our usual songs, too.” “Wow, you are ripping through the details!” I said. “I have to, there’s no time to spare. We’re putting together a concert in a few days that would normally take weeks or months to plan.

“Carolyn suggested we have some kinda exclusive meet and greet and charge $500 a head to get autographs and photos with us and stuff. Normally, I wouldn’t want to charge for that, but this is a fundraiser. Carolyn figures we can have like 50 people at each meet and greet and we’ll probably do three of them, that’ll raise $75,000 right there.” “Whoa! How much you think the concert will bring in?” “That depends on attendance. The good news is that since this is a charity event, we’re gonna get help on the ticket sales and not have to pay out a commission. We’re gonna charge about $35 and maybe do three separate concerts. We can probably get a thousand or so people in for each show, maybe more, so we’re lookin’ at takin’ in well over $100,000 from the concerts. Ethan’s been calling all kinds of churches and community groups to maybe set up food stands and split their profits with us, so we’ll get somethin’ from that, too. I’ve got a ton of Phantom merchandise heading this way—you know: photos, posters, key chains, t-shirts, and all the other stuff we sell at concerts. We can raise a bunch of money with that stuff, too.” “Sounds like we’ll be rakin’ it in.” “I hope so. I wanna raise as much cash as we can. This is going to be our only shot to help out. After New Year’s, we’ll be out promoting the new album and by the time that’s done we’ll be on tour. We won’t be able to do another benefit until next fall.”

“Hey, why don’t we have some kinda auction? You guys could autograph stuff and maybe we could auction off a date with each of you, or somethin’?” “You tryin’ to sell your boyfriend?” laughed Jordan. I punched him in the arm. “No! You know what I mean. That guy in Nashville donated $25,000 to some charity if you’d go out with his daughter, remember?” “Yeah. I don’t like doing that usually, but since it’s for a good cause maybe we’ll try it. We’re gonna have to haul ass with the arrangements, however; we’re doing the concert in two weeks.” “No way!” “That’s what the management company said, but I told them we’d have to push back our promotional appearances if we couldn’t get this done fast enough and they shifted into high gear.” “You’re sadistic.” “Nah, I just know how to hit ‘em where it hurts—in the wallet.” I laughed at that. It was true. *** I figured the interview with Reverend Gerard was a moment that would all too soon be forgotten, but it was not so. Somehow, the F.A.F. got wind of it and Reverend Wellerson publicly attacked Gerard on his TV show the very next day. That made Gerard not only a local story, but one of more national interest,

especially since Reverend Gerard happened to be black and the media played up the race issue as well as the gay issue. Wellerson would’ve done better to keep his mouth shut, but apparently he was incapable of doing so. As it was, he gave Gerard a bigger soapbox to stand on. I usually avoided disputes played out in the media, but I quickly came to admire Reverend Gerard’s boxing-like approach to combating Wellerson and the F.A.F. For every swing that the F.A.F. took at gays, Reverend Gerard jabbed back with deadly precision. I was sitting alone at the kitchen table when I found a quote from him in The Indianapolis Gay Guardian. I’d just started reading it when Ethan came in the back door and washed his hands at the sink. “That preacher you know is in the paper. Listen to this,” I said, and then read it aloud: The F.A.F. has claimed that homosexuality is unnatural and an abomination against God. The truth of the matter is that sexual orientation is a gift from God to be accepted and lived out with gratitude. God does not despise anything that God has created. Only a sadistic god would create millions of people as gay and then deny them the right to have a loving relationship. It is not God that is homophobic, it is the narrow minded and bigoted.

The F.A.F. is seeking to instill fear in our hearts by claiming that gays are out to recruit our children. Fear is Satan’s primary weapon. It is used to control and manipulate, to paralyze the good and prevent the liberation of the oppressed. Sexual orientation is not a choice. God made gays and God does not make mistakes. God intended for there to be gays and non-gays alike. The orientation of each of us is as He intends it. Children cannot be recruited into any sexual orientation. They will be as God made them— naturally heterosexual, bisexual, or homosexual. Nothing that men can do will prevail against the design of God. To claim otherwise is an affront to God. All Christians have a duty to seek to remove all discrimination, oppression, and exploitation from the world. The F.A.F. is not only failing in its Christian duty, but is actively working against it. If their intentions are good, they are misguided. Whatever the case, the F.A.F. is doing a disservice not only to gays, but also to all mankind. “I wouldn’t want to cross Reverend Gerard,” I said. Ethan was smiling. “You surely wouldn’t. He doesn’t pull punches, but tells it as it is. He isn’t afraid of a fight, either. He came through the Civil Rights Movement. He even knew Martin Luther King, Jr. personally.” “Wow.”

“He has some interesting tales to tell, that’s for sure.” “It must be tough for him, being a preacher and gay.” “He’s not gay.” “He’s not?” “No. He’s married, has a couple of kids. Of course, that in itself doesn’t mean he’s not gay, but he isn’t. He’s a man that stands up for what’s right—whether it personally affects him or not.” I’d never met Reverend Gerard, but I already had a great respect for him. The world needed more people like him. *** Things moved fast and furious for the next few days. Even with Phantom’s management company blowing through red tape, legal matters, and handling a ton of details, there were still tons more for us to handle. Ethan and Nathan halted most of their farm work and concentrated on getting the grounds ready. Luckily, it hadn’t rained much, so the fields would be good for parking if it didn’t rain too much before the benefit. Ethan got out a humongous tractor and pulled this big cylinder filled with concrete all over the fields where people would be parking, smashing down the dirt, compacting it, and making it more level. It was like one of those lawn rollers, only way bigger.

Jordan’s publicist, Carolyn, was hard at work. It wasn’t any time at all before news of the benefit hit the airways. It was all over the radio and on television, including MTV. Phantom doing a major concert on such short notice was big news. The fact that it was to support gay youth centers made the whole thing controversial enough that it was the talk of the evening news, especially when Wellerson denounced it and accused Phantom of trying to recruit fans into being gay. That infuriated me and everyone else as well, but it also got the benefit a ton of attention. The management company called and said we didn’t need to spend a dime for publicity; thanks to Wellerson and his big mouth, we were getting millions of dollars worth for free. Maybe God does work in mysterious ways. I bet old Wellerson would’ve had a coronary if he knew he was helping our cause. I loved watching Nick’s reaction when the press started showing up. Jordan and Ross were giving out interviews left and right. News crews kept arriving, invading our privacy. This time, however, none of us cared, as it would help make the benefit a success. Nick’s eyes about bugged out at the sight of all the lights and cameras and news vans with those satellite dishes on top. Jordan put him in charge of telling about a lot of the details. It was definitely Nick’s fifteen minutes of fame. Kieran flew in from L.A. and Jordan and Ross met up with him at the convention center in South Bend. That’s where they held the official press conference. I took

Nick and Sean up with me so they could see what it was like. If Nick thought what was going on at the farm was wild, I knew the press conference would blow him away. When we got there, the huge room was already filled with reporters from all over—newspapers, radio, and local and national television. Security was tight, but I had passes arranged for Nick and Sean, so we had no problem getting in. We stood off to the side a little, right near the table where Jordan, Kieran, and Ross would be sitting. “Don’t look into the crowd when the guys first come out,” I said in warning. “Why?” I tried to answer, but it was too late. The guys came out just then. Nick didn’t heed my warning and looked toward the reporters. He was blinded by dozens of camera flashes going off all at once. “Ahhhh! I get it!” he said, rubbing his eyes. “I can only see spots now.” “It’ll go away in a bit,” I told him. The guys answered a ton of questions about the benefit, but there were all the usual ones, too. “Jordan, are you still dating your boyfriend and, if so, what plans do the two of you have for the future?” asked one reporter. I rolled my eyes. Those guys loved asking personal questions.

“Ralph and I are still together and we intend to remain together, so that is our plan for the future.” “Jordan and Ross, do either of you plan to get your hair cut?” There it was—the inevitable hair question. It used to annoy the hell out of Jordan, until it became too commonplace to worry about. Now, it merely amused him that anyone would care about the length of his hair. “I’m gonna shave my head!” screamed Ross. “Bald is beautiful!” That got a lot of laughs, especially from the reporter who asked it because he had virtually no hair. Jordan rolled his eyes. “I’m not planning on getting my hair cut, but if I do we’ll have a special press conference. I know the fate of the world rests on it.” That got a few laughs, too. “A lot of people don’t believe you should use your celebrity status to influence political issues,” said a reporter. “What do you have to say to that?” “We don’t see this as a political issue,” said Kieran. “All we’re trying to do is raise funds to replace those cut off by the government. Gay youth centers provide valuable services. Without them, a lot of kids will suffer. We’re just doing what we can to help the kids. We’re lucky enough to be a popular band, so why not use that to help others? No one will be forced to attend the benefit and we’re being completely up front about where the money is going. Those who have a problem with that don’t have to come.”

”Jordan, what do you have to say about the claim of ‘The Foundation for American Family Values and Morals’ that you’re attempting to corrupt American youth and recruit your fans into the homosexual lifestyle? “I don’t see how anyone could view a benefit concert as a corrupting influence. No matter what their views, religious or political, it just doesn’t make sense. We’re raising money to help kids, period. Phantom’s music certainly isn’t a corrupting influence. Just listen to our lyrics. As for recruiting fans into the homosexual lifestyle, that’s just ridiculous. You’re gay, bi, or straight—there’s no switching. Sexual orientation isn’t a choice. If we bent all our resources into trying to convince our fans to be gay, we wouldn’t change the sexual orientation of a single individual because it’s just not possible. If this so called ‘morals’ group focused all their efforts on recruiting youth to become heterosexual, they couldn’t change a single individual either. Talking of such a change is ridiculous. It’s about as intelligent as a discussion about changing lead into gold. We aren’t trying to recruit anyone. We’re just trying to restore what’s been ripped away from these kids.” I could tell Jordan was holding back. I had a good idea of what he would’ve liked to say about that group. He was being diplomatic, however, and keeping the focus on raising money for the youth groups.

“That was so completely cool!” said Nick on the drive back. “I couldn’t believe all those cameras. I mean, I’ve seen that on TV, but in person—wow!” “I know what you mean,” I said. “It used to blow me away, but I’ve gotten kind of used to it.” “Hundreds of thousands of people will be watching them on TV, maybe millions. I’d be shaking in my boots if I was up there,” said Nick. “Me too, but luckily we don’t have to worry about that.” “Ask him about the tickets,” said Sean. Nick looked blankly at his boyfriend for a moment. “Oh yeah! Ralph, you think we could score a couple tickets and backstage passes for one of the concerts? I know it’s a benefit and all, but we know these girls... We met ‘em up in South Bend at the mall a long time ago and we email and talk on the phone and stuff. They’re both mega Phantom fans and they’re dying to meet the guys.” “I’m sure I can arrange that. Give me their names later and I’ll put them on the list. When they arrive, tell them to check in and we’ll get them all set up.” “Thanks,” said Nick. “Tara and Rachel will just die when they get to meet Jordan.” “Just tell them not to scream in his face when they meet him. He hates that.” “Oh, I’ll get ‘em to promise. I swear!” said Nick.

The conversation was all about the press conference and the upcoming concert the rest of the way home. Nick and Sean were in heaven when the guys arrived, just an hour or so after we got back to the farm. They just kind of gawked at Jordan, Ross, and Kieran like they hadn’t seen them before. Of course, they hadn’t met Kieran yet. It was like the boys couldn’t believe they were there. Nick and Sean were kind of used to Jordan being around and they definitely knew Ross (in ways I didn’t even want to think about), but they were still star-struck. It almost embarrassed me to remember that I’d once been like that. The guys talked with Nick and Sean for a bit, but there wasn’t any time to just sit around. We were all swamped with work. The next day the carpenters arrived and started building the stage. It wasn’t going to be elaborate since it’d be dismantled after the benefit anyway, but it was another task that needed to be completed. Mike flew in that afternoon, cutting his vacation short. The first thing he said to Jordan was, “What are you trying to do, kill me?” and the second was, “Are you out of your freaking mind?”, but I knew he couldn’t wait to sink his teeth into making all the security arrangements. Shawn and Rod, Ross and Kieran’s bodyguards, were on their way too. There’d be tons more security, of course. A lot was needed just to keep the crowd from getting out of hand. I was a little worried about that; I’d seen how Phantom’s fans sometimes pressed up against the stage. Late one night, Jordan, Kieran, and I were sitting with Ethan at the official command center, the kitchen

table. Jordan was rubbing the bridge of his nose as Kieran ran down a checklist of endless details. Finally, he reached the bottom. “Anything we’ve missed?” asked Kieran, looking around. “I sure can’t think of anything,” said Jordan, “ then again, I can’t think, period.” Jordan’s eyes were bloodshot and his head dipped toward the table now and then. He’d been working his tail off getting everything ready. I was a little concerned about him; he was pushing himself way too hard. “There’s something I wanted to bring up,” said Ethan. “Yeah?” “The local Scout group would like to set up a hot cocoa stand.” “The Scouts are openly discriminatory,” I said with a frown. I’d been a Scout myself and felt personally wounded when an organization I’d respected became openly anti-gay. “The local troop isn’t like that. The Scoutmaster is an old friend of mine, and I happen to know at least two of the Scouts are gay. Everyone knows and no one cares. The national leadership may be discriminatory, but the Verona troop is not.” “I don’t see any problem then,” said Jordan. He looked at me and I nodded.

“If there’s nothing else,” I said, “I think we should all get to bed.” “Oh baby,” said Jordan, arching his eyebrows. “You’re too tired to do anything even if you wanted,” I said, grinning. “You’re right,” said Jordan. I led him off to bed and we were both asleep mere moments later. *** The days were slipping by and the benefit was getting closer and closer. The equipment trucks rolled in and Chad was with them. He started setting things up almost before his feet touched the ground. Before our very eyes a huge meadow was being transformed into a massive amphitheatre. There was a nice sized stage on a small elevation that would give the whole crowd a good look at the boys. The surrounding fields were turned into parking lots, except for one large field where all the food and drink booths were being set up. A huge tent was being erected on the far side of the food area. It would be used for meet and greets and other events. Everything was taking shape nicely. Looking out over the fields, I was reminded of the preparations for Bilbo Baggins’s birthday party in The Fellowship of the Ring by J.R.R. Tolkien. Our biggest tent even had a tree within it that was being hung with dozens of lanterns, just like in the book. Ethan and Nathan’s farm had a quiet beauty to it reminding me of

the Shire. I just stood there for several moments, taking in the wonder of it all. One thing that definitely wasn’t like Bilbo’s party was the season. The temperature had dropped and a gentle snow began to fall. There was a light dusting of white over the fields, stands, and tents. It was pretty and serene, but I hoped it didn’t snow too much nor grow too cold. It was just barely chill enough for snow at the moment, but weather could be unpredictable. I hoped everyone wouldn’t be standing in a freezing wind during the concert, fighting just to keep warm. Trucks arrived with dozens of pine and fir trees. Ethan and Nathan took over setting them up. There were boxes and boxes of Christmas ornaments too, the likes of which I’d never seen. Most were oversized and designed for outdoor use. Decorating all those trees was a daunting task, but Ethan got the local Scout group to pitch in and pulled in a lot of other volunteer help as well. The entire congregation of Reverend Gerard’s church showed up to help, as did several members of other churches. Wellerson might claim to represent the Christians, but carloads of them surely disagreed. It restored my faith in humanity. Brendan and Casper, a couple of Ethan and Nathan’s friends that we’d met at Thanksgiving, were pitching in to help. I witnessed the reunion between Brendan and Chad. We’d found out that Chad, our soundman, was a friend of Brendan’s from way back, only they hadn’t seen each other since they were teenagers. It was weird how Chad ended up being just a couple of miles from

Brendan’s home. Brendan and Casper had their own farm not far from Ethan and Nathan’s place. When Chad caught sight of Brendan, he ran to him and clasped him in a bear hug. “Dude!” “Chad!” They started talking a mile a minute, as if trying to catch up on the last several years in a few moments. Casper walked up while they were talking and Chad looked at him with a question in his eyes. “Casper?” “Yeah, Chad, don’t you recognize me?” “Damn, dude, the last time I saw you, you were a little guy. Where’d you get the bod?” Casper laughed, “From working on our farm.” I caught from their conversation that Casper must have once been on the puny side, but I couldn’t believe it. He wasn’t as built as Brendan or Ethan, but he was about as far from puny as he could get. I smiled watching those guys talk. I didn’t know any of them well, except Chad, of course, but it was heartwarming seeing old friends meet again at last. I didn’t have time to watch them long. I had a little errand to run for Jordan. He didn’t know a thing about it, but I hoped he’d like it.

Jordan I signed onto the internet to talk to Hunter while Ralph read in bed. He was so engrossed in Harry Potter and The Sorcerer’s Stone that he couldn’t put it down. He’d made me promise to read it. It sounded like something I’d like, but I was far too busy to even consider it at present. I was tired, but wakeful. I knew if I tried to sleep that I’d just end up laying there staring at the ceiling. I hadn’t been online in a few days and I didn’t want Hunter to think I was avoiding him. I had a message from Hunter the moment I popped online. I wondered if it was unhealthy for him to spend so much time on the internet. It was kind of like he wasn’t really living his own life. “Dude, where have you been? Did you hear Phantom is gonna be on Rosie again sometime next month?” typed Hunter. “They are doin’ this big concert thing right in Indiana, too! I’ve been just dying to talk to you about it all.” “I know about the concert,” I said, “but I hadn’t heard about Rosie.” It was the truth. I knew we’d be making appearances in the New Year, but I hadn’t heard any details yet. I hoped we would be on Rosie. Her show was such a blast. It was like a big party. If we were on, I definitely wanted to keep Ross away from the snack cakes. There was a huge basket of them in our

dressing room last time and Ross got all sugared up. The result was—frightening. “I read something about them doing Letterman on New Year’s Eve, too. I hope so. It’s been too long since they’ve been on TV.” “I imagine they’re busy,” I typed. “Yeah, I wrote Jordan a letter, but I never got an answer.” “Well, I think he gets a lot of mail.” “I read somewhere he gets thousands of letters a week, but I thought I’d give it a try. I’d just die if he wrote me back.” “You never know. Hey, you think you’ll get to go to the concert?” I typed. I’d been doing a lot of thinking about Hunter. I enjoyed talking to him anonymously, but I felt almost if I were doing something wrong by pretending to be someone I wasn’t. I knew I couldn’t just reveal my true identity to him on the internet, but I’d been thinking about meeting him at the benefit. “I’d love to go!” typed Hunter, “but I can’t afford it. I could drive over to where they’re doing it, but it’s like $35 to get in and I’d need everything I’ve got just for gas money.” “Would you come if I could get you a ticket?” I typed. “Well, I...yeah, I guess, but you don’t even know me all that well. Why would you get me a ticket?”

“I like you and you love Phantom. It won’t even cost me anything. I can get you a ticket for free.” “How?” “I have some connections,” I said. “Are you serious? I mean, you’re getting me excited, but if this is some kind of joke, it’s cruel. It’s like my dream to see Phantom live.” “I’m serious.” “Don’t take this the wrong way, dude, but how do I know you’re for real? What if you’re some old dude trying to lure me into somethin’ bad. I heard about something like that happening. Some guy posed as one of the Backstreet Boys or Hanson or N’SYNC or somebody and was trying to get this girl to meet up with him. He was a fake and was gonna murder her or something.” “You’re right to be cautious,” I said. “Listen, Ticketmaster is handling the tickets. How about this? I’ll arrange for you to get a ticket. You call Ticketmaster and check it out. I’ll put it in your name. That way you’ll know the ticket is for real before you even leave. There’s a Ticketmaster place at The Embassy Theatre in Fort Wayne. You could even pick up the ticket there before you come.” “That sounds cool,” said Hunter. “Okay, that’s how we’ll do it then.” “Um, I’d kinda like to meet you, if you’re going to be there. I’m assuming you will be.”

“Oh yeah, I’ll be there. When you get to the concert ask one of the security guards to take you to the event coordinator. I’ll make sure he has your name. Then, he’ll arrange for us to meet somewhere at the concert. There’ll be tons of people around, so you won’t have to worry that I’m a crazed ax murderer or something.” “LOL. Okay, man. I’ll call Ticketmaster later and check on the ticket. I’m sorry for doubting you, but I’ve heard too many scary stories about meeting someone from the internet.” “Don’t be sorry. I’m glad you are cautious. I don’t mind one bit.” “Do you really look like Jordan?” typed Hunter. “So much it’s scary,” I typed. I wondered what Hunter would do when he found out I was Jordan. “I wanna get my picture with you, and then I can show it around at school and pretend I met him. LOL.” “Sure, if you want. Hey, I almost forgot, what’s your last name?” “Radcliff.” “Awesome. I’ll get the ticket set up. Give me until noon tomorrow before you call and check on it, okay?” “Dude! I am so psyched about this concert. If you get me a ticket, I’ll be your slave for life!” “That won’t be necessary.” “Well, I’ll be your friend for life then. I just hope my folks will let me come. They’d better or I’m coming anyway!”

“Hey, I have to run,” I said. “I’m exhausted.” “Okay, man. Talk to you soon, or see you soon!” I signed off and climbed into bed. Ralph was still reading as I drifted off to sleep. He was really into Harry Potter. I guessed I’d have to read it when I got the chance and see what it was all about. *** I was psyched. Our first of three concerts was in just two days and it was nearly time for the charity auction. Brendan, who was the Verona varsity football coach, had arranged for us to use the school gymnasium. He also arranged for me to get in early, a full hour before anyone else was allowed in. I had a weird sense of déjà vu as Brendan, Ethan, and Nathan took me around my dad’s old high school. I guess it wasn’t really déjà vu since I’d never been there before, but both my dad and Mark had written about their school quite a lot. Ethan and Nathan were able to point out the very room where Dad and Mark attended English class together. They took me to the cafeteria and showed me the table where all of them used to eat together. It was the very same one. I couldn’t believe it was still there. I sat down in what Ethan indicated was my dad’s usual spot. I could remember reading about the day, shortly after they’d been outed to the whole school, when their former friend, Devon, had tried to cause trouble, but Brandon, Jon, and some of their other friends had stood up for

them. It seemed like it was yesterday and I could see it in my mind as if I had been my dad. “Hey, whatever happened to Brandon and Jon?” I asked. Brandon had been Mark’s best friend and both he and Jon were pretty tight with Mark and my dad. “Brandon lives in Evansville. He coaches soccer at one of the high schools,” said Ethan. “You’re kidding—Ralph’s parents live not far from there and our cabin’s not far away either.” “You should look him up,” said Nathan. “I bet he’d love to meet you. We’d better warn him about how much you look like Taylor, though. We don’t want him having a heart attack or something.” “How about Jon?” “He’s down in Florida. We keep in touch—call each other a few times a year. He’s got three kids now.” “Whoa!” “That’s nothing,” said Ethan, “Brandon has five. Then again, he always was a horn dog!” Everyone laughed at that. Brendan led us into the gym. I just stood there and took it all in for a minute. There was a long table lined with Phantom memorabilia that’d be auctioned off in a couple of hours, but I didn’t pay any attention to it. My mind was stuck in the past. This is where my dad and his boyfriend set eyes on each other for the very first time. I wondered about something as I stood there. I walked to the far side of the gym where some huge

framed photos were hanging. I gave a little gasp as I saw it. There it was, the very team photo that Dad had written about—the one with Mark right next to a big soccer trophy from the 1979-80 season. I almost couldn’t believe it was still there. It was like time stood still in my dad’s old high school. “I think you’ll want to take a look at this one,” said Nathan. Just to the right was another big, framed team photo. This one had the date 1980-81 near the bottom. I almost cried when I looked at it. There was my dad with a huge smile on his face, standing right next to Mark whose eyes were on my dad instead of the camera. He was grinning, too. I could tell how much he loved my dad just from looking at that photo. I reached up and ran my finger along Dad’s face. I missed him so much. If only I’d had the chance to have known him. There was a massive banner with “Top Wrestlers” written in huge letters across the top. I scanned down the list until I got to 1980-81 and there was written, Ethan Selby. His name was beside the years 1981-82 as well. “You must’ve been good,” I said. Ethan didn’t answer. “He was more than good. He was the best there ever was,” said Nathan. He led me to a trophy case. The largest trophy of all had a pair of wrestlers on top and Ethan Selby - Undefeated written in big letters on the base.

“Wow,” I said. Ethan actually turned a bit red. I wasn’t so sure I wanted to see the locker room. That’s where my dad and Mark had dressed out for soccer practice so many times, but it was also the place they were outed. It was where Mark had nearly been beaten to death, too. I’d read about it in Mark’s journal. I think if he hadn’t been thinking quick on his feet that he’d have been raped as well. He was smart enough to trap Devon with words, however. I shuddered just thinking about what had happened and what had almost happened. The air seemed a little oppressive when I walked into the locker room, as if old, unpleasant memories clung to the walls. There were happy memories there too, however. I could almost see my dad and Mark getting ready for soccer practice in there, probably eyeing each other and cute teammates. I smiled when I thought of it. “Do you want to see the soccer fields?” asked Ethan quietly. I thought long and hard, biting my lower lip and squeezing my eyes shut. After several moments of silence, I nodded. Ethan led the way out back. We took the long way getting there to avoid the crowd that was already beginning to fill the parking lot. I didn’t want to be recognized. I wanted to be alone with the guys for just a little while longer.

Just before we reached the soccer fields, there was a huge boulder with a bronze plaque on it. The letters stood out on it in sharp relief. I read them to myself: This field is dedicated to the memory of Mark Bailey and Taylor Potter. They died here all too early because of hatred and intolerance. May the future learn from what happened and not let it happen again. I traced my finger along my dad’s name, and then looked back at Ethan. He nodded and smiled. Ethan, Brendan, and Nathan halted at the edge of the soccer field while I walked on to the goal. There was more than one field, but I walked to the goal. A shiver that had nothing to do with the cold ran up my spine. My hands trembled slightly as I reached out and touched the goal post. Ghosts of the past seemed to watch me as I ran my hand over the white, painted surface. A sharp intake of breath filled my chest and my eyes watered. This was where it had happened. This was where first my dad, and then Mark, had taken their own lives. I stood there for I don’t know how long—yearning for the father who had died before I was born. I felt a strong hand grip my shoulder and turned to see Ethan’s soulful eyes peering into my own. I wrapped my arms around him and cried onto his shoulder as he petted my hair. “It’s okay, Jordan. It’s okay.”

“I never got to see him,” I croaked. “He never even knew about me. Mom told me he died before he knew I existed, but I kept hoping she was wrong. I hoped and prayed that I’d look up someday and there he’d be— telling me it was all a mistake and that he’d come back for me. But he never came...and Mom, I never see her. I feel like I’m an orphan sometimes.” The sobs welling in my chest halted my words. “I know, Jordan. I know,” said Ethan as he held me in his strong arms. He spoke to me softly, with compassion in his voice. “I lost my parents when I was ten. They were in an accident. I remember it so well. I’d just come home from school. The whole kitchen was filled with the scent of chocolate chip cookies that Mom had just baked. She said Dad was running her to the store and they’d be right back. We were out of milk and she wanted to make gravy to go with the chicken that was frying on the stove. She gave me a hug and kissed my forehead. Dad did too. It was almost like they knew they’d never see me again. I watched them go out the door and heard the car start. I watched the chicken like Mom asked me. In a few minutes it was done and they weren’t back yet, even though the grocery was just a few blocks away. I waited and waited and still they didn’t come. They never came back.” I hugged Ethan tighter. I didn’t want to let go. “I was lucky my Uncle Jack took me in. He was always there for me. Jordan, I’d be proud to have you think of me as your uncle. I’ll always be here for you,

no matter what. You’re Taylor’s son. I loved him and Mark. I know they’d want me to take care of you. If you ever need anything...well, I’m here for you.” “Thanks,” I said, into his chest. I hugged him once more. When I raised my head at last, I noted that Ethan’s eyes were filled with tears. He’d suffered his own losses. He’d loved my dad and Mark, too. We smiled at each other sadly, sharing an old grief. “I’m sorry about your shirt,” I said. I’d gotten it all wet by crying on it. “It’s nothing,” he said. “Come on, it’s nearly time.” Ethan led me back to the others and we made our way to the gym, slipping in the guarded back entrance. When the crowd caught sight of me, camera flashes went off like mad making it look like there was a lightning storm in the old gymnasium. “Holy shit!” said Nathan. “This place is packed.” It was true. It looked like there wasn’t an open seat anywhere. There was a crowd of hundreds. That old gym had probably never been so stuffed before. “I wonder what Taylor would’ve thought about all these people, coming to see his son,” said Nathan. “Don’t forget, Ross and Kieran are here, too,” I pointed out. I could see my friends standing a short distance away, separated from the crowd by security. “It’s probably best if you guys hang out back here with

us. I don’t know if we’d be able to find each other in this crowd.” Ethan nodded, and he, Nathan, and Brendan leaned up against the wall, taking it all in. I joined Kieran and Ross and we watched as an auctioneer started selling photos we’d all signed. I was amazed—they were bringing anywhere from $100 to $200 bucks! A prop from one of our videos, a big Phantom flag that had hung behind Ross while he was drumming, went for $850. I was blown away when someone paid $1,200 for a wife beater I’d worn during a show. Sometimes the devotion of the fans was almost scary, but maybe they were bidding high because it was all for charity. It was going to save youth centers and not to send the guys and me to the Bahamas or something like that. The big-ticket items were Kieran, Ross, and myself. Each of us were going to spend three hours that very evening with whoever bought us—take them out to supper, hang out, and do whatever they wanted (within reason). Kieran was up for bids first. I was pretty amazed that the opening bid was $5,000. “I guess there’s no accounting for taste,” said Ross as he leaned over and pretended to whisper to me. He made sure it was loud enough for Kieran to pick up. He was standing a few feet away from us near the auctioneer. “I heard that!” he yelled back. Ross laughed. The bids went up and up until Kieran was sold to some screaming girl (with a very rich daddy, no doubt) for $11,000. I was delighted. That was a ton of money

for the centers. Kieran seemed pretty pleased, too. I think he was shocked that anyone would pay that much to spend a few hours with him. The girl that bid on him came down screaming and crying. Kieran looked a little afraid of her. Rod, his bodyguard, got her calmed down before he let her approach Kieran. “Well, here goes,” I said as I stepped forward. I was the next to be sold. There were screams from all over, but the crowd calmed down enough in just a few seconds that the auctioneer could get going. My eyes opened wide when someone started the bidding at $10,000. There was fierce competition for me. I must admit it made me feel pretty good about myself, but I felt like they were buying flawed merchandise. I mean, I wasn’t that great! The bidders seemed to disagree with me. I listened as the auctioneer asked for higher and higher bids and got them. “We have $16,000, do I hear 18. Yes, 18, thank you, sir. Do I hear 20?” He kept going and going. “Do I hear $25,000 for a date with this fine young man? Do I hear 25?” I was starting to feel like a rent boy or something from the way he was describing me, but my head was spinning over the amount. I never dreamed we’d take in so much. I thought maybe we’d bring in a couple thousand apiece, if we were lucky.

“Yes, 25, thank you, sir. Do I hear 26? I have $25,000 from the man in the red shirt, do I hear 26? No? Going, going, gone!” I couldn’t believe it! $25,000! Wow! The man who’d bid me in pushed a boy forward who was probably about sixteen years old. He came toward us carrying his dad’s hastily written check. Unlike the girl that had bought Kieran, he didn’t scream and cry, but was grinning from ear to ear. When he came up to me he shook my hand and said, “I’ve been waiting my whole life to meet you.” I smiled. “We’ll have plenty of time to get to know each other later this evening. Was that your dad?” “Yeah, he bought you for me. Um...” he held his hand to his mouth, “I didn’t mean it quite like that.” “It’s okay, I know what you mean. Now let’s see if there are any bids on Ross.” I made sure Ross could hear me. “Hey!” he yelled. “I’m what they’ve all been waiting for!” I smiled. “Oh yeah, what’s your name?” I asked the boy who nervously stood beside me. “Mikey.” “Nice to meet you, Mikey.” He smiled from ear to ear and blushed. Ross didn’t play fair. When the bidding slowed down at $18,000, he grabbed the mike from the auctioneer and started urging on the crowd.

“Come on! You know I’m worth more than that. Someone paid $25,000 for Jordan! I’m worth at least twice as much! Do I hear $20,000 for me?” Someone bid and Ross danced around. The auctioneer reclaimed his mike and the bidding continued. Finally, it reached $25,000. “Going, going...” Ross whispered into the auctioneer’s ear, then ran out into the crowd, straight for the guy that had the high bid. His bodyguard, Sean, along with Mike, ran after him. I wondered what Ross was up to this time. He reached the guy bidding on him and whispered into his ear, then ran back, shaking people’s hands on the way. The guy bidding on Ross held his hand up high. “$25,001.” “Sold!” said the auctioneer. Ross danced around again, chanting, “I brought more than you did!” at me over and over. The crowd thought it was hilarious. For that matter, so did I. Ross was a nut. Ross, Kieran, and I all grabbed mikes and thanked everyone for being so generous to help us raise money for the youth centers. I knew a lot of those people didn’t really care about the centers—they were just there to see us. That was okay, too. Before we left, the three of us sang an a cappella version of Deep In The Darkness. It was a ballad and one of our easier songs to sing without instruments. The crowd really loved it. I liked

singing a cappella every once in a while, just to prove without a doubt that Phantom could really sing and that our voices weren’t just created in a studio somewhere. *** Everyone gathered around the TV in the living room. The Gerard/Wellerson debate was about to begin. Wellerson had actually come to Verona to combat Reverend Gerard. The man was a fanatic. I’d have liked to see the debate in person, but that was totally out of the question. Luckily it was broadcast, at least on local TV. Some of it would no doubt get national attention. I was eager to see what happened when Reverend Gerard and the leader of the F.A.F. went head to head. It was a moderated debate, just like in an election. It was being held in the town hall and the small room was overcrowded. After some preliminary remarks, Wellerson was the first to speak. “It is the duty of all Christians to not only resist sin, but to fight it actively and wholeheartedly wherever it is found. Homosexuality is such a sin. In Genesis is the story of Sodom, a city destroyed by the hand of God for the sin of homosexuality. When the Angels of the Lord came to Sodom, Lot insisted they come into his home for the night. But the men of the town surrounded Lot’s house and demanded that he give up the visitors so that the men could have sex with them. This is the sin for

which Sodom was destroyed, the sin of homosexuality.” “The sin of Sodom was not homosexuality, but inhospitality,” said Reverend Gerard. “Sodom was destroyed because of selfishness, pride, neglect of the poor, and inhospitality to strangers. Lot was deemed worthy of God’s favor because he was hospitable, when others of the town were not.” “Granted, the people of Sodom were inhospitable,” said Wellerson, “but Sodom was destroyed for homosexuality. That was the chief sin of the city.” “You have said that the men of the city surrounded Lot’s home and demanded that he turn over the Angels so that they might have sex with them. Your interpretation is based on a mistranslation. Genesis 19:4 is often read as, Before they had gone to bed, all the men from every part of the city of Sodom-both young and old-surrounded the house. But, this is incorrect. The word translated as men is ‘enowish’, which means ‘a mortal.’ It was not men who surrounded Lot’s house, but men, women, and children. It was all the inhabitants of Sodom, not only the men.” Wellerson looked extremely displeased, but said nothing. Reverend Gerard continued. “Genesis 19:5 says, And they called unto Lot, and said unto him, Where are the men which came in to thee this night? Bring them onto us, that we may know them. The word ‘know’, which you have taken to mean, ‘sex’, is translated from the word ‘yada’, which means, ‘to know, to be acquainted with’. It is not sexual. If the

intent of the people of Sodom had been sexual, the term ‘shakab’ would have been used. Even if it were meant in a sexual manner, which it is not, the mob was formed of both males and females. How then could this be considered homosexuality? “The Bible is describing a mob scene. The people of Sodom were intent on violence, not sex. The rules of hospitality in Lot’s culture were so strict that even an enemy could not be harmed if he had been offered shelter for the night. The people of Sodom not only failed to be hospitable, they intended to physically harm Lot’s guests. The tale of Sodom is not about homosexuality, it is about inhospitality. This is confirmed by Ezekiel 16:48-49: This was the guilt of your sister Sodom: she and her daughters had pride, surfeit of food and prosperous ease, but they did not aid the poor and needy. Ezekiel mentions homosexuality nowhere.” Wellerson trembled with fury, but still said nothing. Apparently, there was nothing he could say. Reverend Gerard continued uninterrupted. “How ironic it is that the story of Sodom is used to condemn gays, a group that is abused, made to feel as outsiders, fired from their jobs, disowned by their families, beaten, and even killed. Those who do such things are guilty of the very inhospitality and cruelty that the Bible condemns over and over again. It is those who misuse the story of Sodom to attack gays that are the Sodomites.” “I told you he was good,” said Ethan.

“Look at Wellerson,” said Nick. The leader of the F.A.F. looked as if he were about to have a coronary. He obviously couldn’t defend his position, however, as he dropped the topic of Sodom for another. “Leviticus 18:22,” said Wellerson, “states Do not lie with a man as one lies with a woman; that is detestable. Leviticus 20:13 states If a man lies with a man as one lies with a woman, both of them have done what is detestable. They must be put to death; their blood is on their own hands.” Wellerson seemed quite pleased with himself after quoting these passages, as if he’d won the argument. Reverend Gerard was not fazed, however. “Leviticus 17:21 states that no minister who has a defect is allowed to minister,” said Gerard. “I hardly see how that applies.” “Oh, it applies. The passage means that anyone with a pimple, bad eyesight, a limp, or any other defect is not allowed to minister. Furthermore, James 2:10 states, For whoever keeps the whole law and yet stumbles at one point is guilty of breaking all of it. This means that if someone with a cut on his hand or a wart on his nose ministers, he is guilty of breaking the entire law. He has committed murder, adultery, and so on. I note that you, Reverend Wellerson, wear eyeglasses. You have a defect of vision and yet you minister. According to James, you are therefore guilty of breaking the entire law. Therefore, you are a murderer. You are an adulterer.” “That is ridiculous!” howled Wellerson.

“That is the Old Testament, which you are attempting to misuse to condemn gays. However, the very source you are citing condemns you, Reverend Wellerson. Let us not dwell upon this, however, let us instead look at Leviticus 20:13, which you believe so firmly pronounces homosexuality as a sin. This passage, too, has been mistranslated from the original texts. If translated correctly, If a man lies with a man reads as If a man lies with mankind. Mankind means here man or woman. Furthermore, both of them have done what is detestable is properly translated as both of them have done what is idolatry. Leviticus 18:22 refers not to homosexuality, but to ritual sex used to worship a pagan god.” “Your translations are very interesting, Reverend Gerard. You seem to have the ability to make the Bible say anything you want.” Wellerson was so smug I wanted to punch him right in the face, but his remark didn’t ruffle Reverend Gerard’s feathers at all. “Many claim that the Bible supports their cause, but if you care to check the translations with any expert in language, you’ll find that my arguments stand up. The Bible has been misquoted time and again, but not by me here tonight.” “Whatever you might say, the Bible clearly condemns homosexuality!” shouted Wellerson. In contrast to the leader of the F.A.F., Gerard kept his cool. “The Bible never mentions homosexuality. In ancient Greek, there was no word for homosexuality. If a Greek wrote about homosexuality, it would have been

necessary for him to use verbs describing specific sexual acts. Therefore, anytime a version of the Bible uses the term ‘homosexual’, it is a mistranslation. How interesting that you claim the Bible condemns homosexuality when the term ‘homosexual’ is found nowhere in the Bible.” “Even if that is so,” said Wellerson, “the Bible clearly states that homosexual acts are an abomination.” “Here let me quote Wisdom 11:24-12:1,” said Reverend Gerard, Yes, you love all that exists, you hold nothing of what you have made in abhorrence, for had you hated anything, you would not have formed it. And how, had you not willed it, could a thing persist, how be conserved if not called forth by you? You spare all things because all things are yours, Lord, lover of life, you whose imperishable spirit is in all. God loves and accepts individuals exactly as they are. This applies to all, not just heterosexuals.” “Homosexuals are an unnatural abomination!” shouted Wellerson. “God does not create abominations,” said Reverend Gerard calmly. “To quote Daniel 1:9, Now God had brought Daniel into favor and tender love with the prince of the eunuchs. In other words, God caused one man to love another. In the story of Ruth and Naomi, he caused one woman to love another. “If this does not suffice to make my point, consider David and Jonathan—Jonathan loved David so much that he was willing to give up everything for him, even his future position as King. David stated that Jonathan’s

love surpassed that of any woman. The Bible does not condemn the relationship in any way, instead, it celebrates it.” Reverend Gerard kept going. There was no stopping the man. I marveled at his Biblical knowledge. I don’t think Wellerson thought he’d be going up against someone who knew his stuff so very well. “Even if you lay all my arguments aside,” said Reverend Gerard, “ponder this: the Bible was quoted to condemn Copernicus, because he said the sun did not occupy the center of the universe. It was quoted to condemn Galileo, who said the sun did not rotate around the earth. The Bible has also been quoted from to support the most inhumane treatment of our fellow man—slavery. In all these cases, Biblical quotes were misused for the cause of injustice. Those who attempt to use the Bible to condemn homosexuality, abuse the Bible in the same way. They abuse the Bible itself.” “Homosexuality is wrong,” stated Wellerson flatly. “Matthew said, You must love your neighbor as yourself. John said that anyone who claims to love God and yet does not love their neighbor is a liar. How can any of us attack gays and claim to love our neighbor? Does not the Bible command us to love others as we love ourselves?” “God himself has punished homosexuals with AIDS,” said Wellerson. “God, as revealed by Jesus, is a loving and merciful parent who does not punish his children, especially for

something about which they have no choice. Sexual orientation is not a choice. It cannot be changed. The American Psychological Association even recognizes that mental illness can result from being in conflict with one’s sexual orientation. Therefore, AIDS cannot be a punishment from God. You are forgetting, too, that AIDS is not a homosexual disease. It is far more prevalent among heterosexuals than in the gay community.” I was impressed with Reverend Gerard. He didn’t retreat an inch. He shot down every argument that Wellerson tossed in the air. Wellerson knew he was being bested too. I’m sure there’d be snowball fights in hell before he admitted it, but he was being trounced by the good reverend. “Homosexuality is an evil that must be swept from the land,” shouted Wellerson, as if saying it loud made it true. “You may stand here and twist the word of God to suit your purpose, but the Bible condemns homosexuality!” “Where is your evidence?” asked Reverend Gerard. “We are here to discuss this very thing. I have not twisted God’s word. I have revealed it as the Bible intended. It is you who refuse to see the light. It is you who spout ideas that are backed by nothing but ignorance and prejudice. Mark 7:6 says, This people honors me with their lips, but their hearts are far from me. How well these words apply to churchgoers who abuse gays with their words. In Matthew, Jesus said to the Pharisees, ...on the outside you appear to people as

righteous but on the inside you are full of hypocrisy and wickedness.” Wellerson turned red and shook with fury. He left his podium with clenched fists and stalked out of view. There was stunned silence, until Reverend Gerard spoke once more. “At the very least, Christians of all denominations— even if they believe homosexuality is evil—should follow the principle put forth in Matthew 6:14-15: For if ye forgive men their trespasses, your heavenly Father will also forgive you; But if ye forgive not men their trespasses, neither will your Father forgive your trespasses. “God has already accepted gays into his Kingdom. Nothing that men or religious denominations say or do can alter this fact. It is not our decision, but God’s, and He has already decided. We must forget our prejudices. We must lay aside our unreasoning hatred. We must strive to give aid to all who are in need, without regard to sexual orientation, race, sex, or any other difference that can exist among us. We must all follow the words found in John 13:34, I give you a new commandment; love one another, just as I have loved you.” The debate ended on that note. Ethan turned off the TV and we sat there in silence for several moments. “Whoa!” said Ross finally, “Reverend Gerard kicked his ass!”

“I don’t think he’d appreciate it being put that way,” said Ethan, “but yes, he definitely kicked his ass.” *** I pulled my little, rented convertible up to a nice looking one-story house, not too far from the high school in Verona. It was a large home and well kept, but didn’t look like it belonged to someone who could lay down $25,000 so his son could spend a few hours with me. Mike and I got out. Unfortunately, my short time without a bodyguard was over. The concert was the next night and Verona was crawling with fans and the press. I didn’t even dare to mention going out by myself. I knew Mike would have had a cow. “I’ll wait here,” said Mike. I shut the door of the car, and then walked up a brick sidewalk to the front door. I knocked and Mikey answered. “Uh, hi...” He stood on the doorstep awkwardly, as if he didn’t know how to act or what to say. I was accustomed to that, but I hoped he’d loosen up. “Mikey, where are your manners,—ask him in.” Mikey turned a bit red. “Yes, please come in,” he said. I followed Mikey into a neatly kept living room. “Hi, I’m Mikey’s mom, Elisabeth.” “Nice to meet you.”

“Please, have a seat.” I sat down in an armchair and Mikey and his mom sat on the couch just across from me. Mikey kept stealing looks at me, gawking a bit like he couldn’t believe I was really there. His dad entered carrying a newspaper. “Well, hello.” I stood up and shook his hand. “Ken Sisk.” “Jordan.” “Believe me, we know, but I’d better not embarrass Mikey.” He looked at his son and smiled at him with a mischievous glint in his eye. I could just tell they had a good father/son relationship. Mikey was a lucky boy. “That was a very generous bid you made, Mr. Sisk.” “Call me Ken, and thanks. It’s money well spent, however. This is a dream come true for Mikey and I approve of what you’re doing. I owe a personal debt to centers like the ones you’re trying to save—a deep debt I can never repay.” He looked at Mikey as if he wanted to say more, but didn’t know if he should. “A few months ago I ‘bout killed myself,” said Mikey. “I had the pills ready and everything, but then I called the center here in Verona. I didn’t think it would help any, but I called. It said it was anonymous and all that. Anyway, the guy I talked to was real nice and talked me outta doin’ what I was gonna do. Then later, I told my parents about me and found out I’d been worrin’ about somethin’ I didn’t need to worry about.”

Mikey’s mom had teared up and his dad’s eyes look a bit watery. Looking at the cute boy in front of me, I’d never have guessed he’d been suicidal just a few months before. “If it hadn’t been for that center, we’d have lost our boy,” said Ken. “We’d have lost him and would have never known why. Instead, Mikey found the courage to come out to us and we were able to show him we loved him, no matter what.” “Mom even tried to set me up with a boyfriend,” said Mikey, rolling his eyes. His mom smiled, but looked as if she felt a bit foolish. I was sure there was a good story there. “But enough of this,” said Ken. “I’m sure you two want to get going. Just behave yourselves and no seducing my boy.” “Dad!” Ken was laughing. He embarrassed the hell out of Mikey, but I thought it was funny, too. Mikey had quite a father. “Here’s my cell phone number,” I said, “in case you want to reach us. I thought we’d try to eat at Ofarim’s, but sometimes I have a little trouble with crowds so we may have to get out of town. After that, I thought we might go out to the Selby farm where the concert will be tomorrow evening. We’ll be able to walk around there without anyone bothering us. If our plans change, we’ll call and let you know.” “Great,” said Ken. “You have a good time, Mikey, and keep your hands to yourself.”

“Dad!” “Now get out of here before I embarrass you again,” he said laughing. Mikey’s mom gave him a hug that made him turn pink and mussed his hair. “Have a good time, honey.” We stepped out the front door. “Who’s that?” asked Mikey, pointing toward the car. Mikey’s parents were looking toward the car as well. “That’s Mike, my bodyguard. Unfortunately, I can’t go anywhere alone, but Mike’s cool. You’ll like him.” “Someone’s not tryin’ to hurt you, are they?” asked Mikey, concern clearly written on his face. “No, nothing like that. It’s just that sometimes the fans get a little overenthusiastic, especially when there’s a big crowd. And Mike’s there just in case there is someone who’d try to hurt me, although that’s never happened.” “I’m glad. I wouldn’t want anyone to hurt you, Jordan.” Mike introduced himself and climbed in the back. Mikey sat in the passenger seat. “I’m sorry ‘bout my dad,” said Mikey, “especially what he said ‘bout you keeping your hands off me.” “No problem. I think he’s funny.” “Yeah, he is.” “Your mom seems really cool, too.”

“She is, but I get tired of her kissin’ on me and stuff all the time like I’m a baby. Her and Dad are just too much sometimes. They kinda suffocate me.” “I understand, but I’ll tell you something; you should be happy they care so much and that you have them. I never knew my dad. I’d be thrilled to have him suffocate me, if only I could be with him. That’s impossible, though.” “I’m sorry.” “It’s okay. I just want you to appreciate what you’ve got.” “I do,” said Mikey and smiled. “So, how old are you?” “Fifteen.” “I guess you go to Verona High School?” “Yeah, I’m a freshman.” “Cool, that’s my dad’s old school.” “Really?” “Yeah, check out the soccer team photo for 1980-81. He’s in it. He looks just like me.” “I’ve seen that! I always thought that boy looked just like you, but I never imagined he was your dad!” “Well, he is.” “Wow.” Mikey looked thoughtful for a few moments. “This is really cool, you seem just like a normal person.”

I laughed out loud. “Well, I am a normal person. I just happen to play music in front of a whole lot of people sometimes. I’m mainly just a regular guy, though—a regular guy with a boyfriend.” “I want a boyfriend, too.” “How about that one your mom set you up with.” “Oh, that didn’t work at all. He was so not my type.” “I’m sure you’ll find someone.” “I have a major crush on this boy at school—Derek. He’s so nice and sooooo cute. And I just found out he likes guys!” “Awesome!” “Yeah, now if I only had the guts to ask him out.” “He like Phantom?” “Oh yeah! That’s one of the things I like about him. We love the same music.” I grinned. “Maybe I can help you out then. I’ll tell you what—if you’ll call him and ask him out right now, I’ll get you guys tickets for tomorrow evening and backstage passes so he can meet the guys. You two can go on a date.” “Are you serious?” “Yeah, I’m serious. I’ll pull over and you can get out and call so you don’t have to worry about us listening.” “Okay,” said Mikey. I could tell he was both nervous and excited at the same time.

I found a parking place in the residential area we were in, pulled over, and handed Mikey my cell phone. He took it and stepped out of the car. I watched as he punched in the number and nervously paced back and forth. His cheeks reddened as he talked. In a few moments, he came back to the car. “He thinks I’m playin’ some joke on him. He wants to go out”, Mikey grinned, “but he thinks I’m messin’ with him. He wants to talk to you.” Mikey spoke into the phone again. “Here he is.” “Hey, Derek, this is Jordan.” Silence. “You there? Hello?” “It’s really you.” “Yep, it’s me. So, you coming with Mikey tomorrow evening?” “Hell yeah I am! I been hopin’ he’d ask me out, but this...Wow!” “Cool. I’ll put Mikey back on. See you tomorrow, Derek.” “Yeah, thanks, man.” Mikey talked to him just a few moments more, then got back in the car and handed me the phone. “Thanks so much! I was scared outta my wits, but I’m glad you got me to do that. It might’ve taken me weeks to work up the courage otherwise.” “Derek said he’d been hoping you’d ask him out.” “Really?” “Yeah, just ask him when you see him next.”

“Wow. This is incredible.” We parked near Ofarim’s. I pulled on my baseball cap and sunglasses in a vain hope to disguise myself. The three of us walked inside. There were only about half a dozen people in there, but one of the girls screamed when she saw me. Uh oh. Pretty soon we were surrounded. “Can I have your autograph?” asked the girl who had screamed. “I drove all the way from Wisconsin to come and see you. I’m missing three days of school, but I don’t care.” Other people wanted me to sign things, too. “I’ll tell you what. I’ll sign something for all of you if you promise not to go out and tell anyone else I’m in here. Mikey and I are starving and want to get something to eat.” The four girls and two guys that were there readily agreed. I handed Mikey a twenty and he went up and ordered for us while I signed autographs and talked to everyone in the restaurant. I kept talking to them while our burgers were being prepared. When they were done, everyone was real cool about letting me sit down and eat with Mikey. They kept watching us, but I didn’t mind that. I think Mikey kind of liked the attention. Mike sat near eating, keeping an eye on everyone just in case. “You’re so cool,” said Mikey, “and I don’t mean because you’re famous. That’s cool too, but you’re cool ‘cause you’re so nice. You’re a big, famous rock star and yet you treat everyone like they’re just as good as you.”

“Well, they are,” I said. “I think everyone’s important. When you think about it, there’s a lot of people way more important than me.” “Like who?” “Like the lady that fixed our burgers. Without her, we’d still be hungry.” “Yeah. Oh, here,” said Mikey, slapping the twenty on the table. “Sandy, at the counter, said your money is no good here.” I looked up at the counter. “Hey, Sandy, you didn’t have to do that.” “No problem, Jordan.” Sandy smiled. She was about thirty something. “Sandy owns the place,” said Mikey. We finished our burgers and fries. Sandy had three large chocolate milkshakes waiting for us when we were ready to go. She was so thoughtful. “Hey, could you sign the poster for me,” asked Sandy, indicating the huge framed Phantom insignia poster hanging on the wall. “Sure thing.” “And the table?” “Yeah, sure.” While Sandy pulled down the poster and removed it from its frame, I drew the Phantom insignia on the table where we’d eaten and wrote “Jordan and Mikey ate right here”, then signed my name and had Mikey sign his. When Sandy put the poster down on the counter, I

wrote “Sandy, your burgers rock! Best wishes, Jordan.” Sandy smiled when she saw what I’d written. We’d been lucky. No one else had come in, but I knew our luck wouldn’t hold. We said goodbye to everyone and got back in the car. “We’d better head back to the farm,” I said. “Word will get out now that we’re in town and we won’t have any privacy here.” We drove back to the Selby farm, passing through the tight security that normally wasn’t there. The farm was beautiful in the quickly fading light. A dusting of snow covered the fields, making everything feel all Christmas-like. It was December and Christmas really wasn’t that far away. Kieran and Ross were out with their “buyers”, but Mikey was thrilled to meet Ralph. We walked around looking at the stage and all the food booths going up. A huge pine tree had been placed in the middle of all the booths and volunteers were busily decorating it. It looked really nice with only the lights, snow, and a bare minimum of decorations. I was sure it would look fantastic by concert-time. There were dozens of smaller trees all over the place, smaller, but still between six and eight feet tall—decorated with different colored lights and ornaments. I loved the way the moonlight made the tinsel and ornaments sparkle. It was a Christmas wonderland. Mikey and I walked farther out into the fields and talked. Mikey asked me a ton of questions about what it was like being a musician, but we talked a lot about him

and Derek, too. I felt like his big brother or something as he asked me advice. I reluctantly took Mikey home at the stroke of midnight. I enjoyed my time with him. It was cool to see such a great kid who was so comfortable with himself. It was great that his parents were so supportive, too. It made me more determined than ever to help the gay youth centers. Mikey was an example of just what they accomplished. Without them, he might’ve ended up just like my dad. I wished centers like that had been available when my dad was alive. Maybe he would’ve still been around if they had been.

Ralph The crowd started coming in long before the concert. Phantom wasn’t scheduled to appear until 7 p.m., but people started coming in at 6 a.m. to get good seats, or perhaps I should say a good spot on the snow. Some fans arrived much earlier, the day before in fact, but no one was allowed in before 11 a.m. A bunch of local groups had food stands set up and even some carnival games, giving the benefit the atmosphere of a county fair. The Phantom booth was doing a booming business, but that was no surprise. All the Phantom tshirts, photos, posters, calendars, CD’s, key chains, and everything else usually sold like crazy at the concerts. It was cold, but there was no wind. No one seemed to mind, especially the Scouts who were selling hot cocoa hand over fist. It wasn’t quite mid-December, but Christmas had come to the Selby farm. There were dozens of Christmas trees decked out with ornaments and lights. Many of the trees had themes, like Angels or Santas. I loved the Phantom tree. Each ornament had a picture of one of the guys or the Phantom logo. I almost couldn’t wait until it got dark. All those shining lights on the trees with the stars sparkling overhead would be the most beautiful sight I’d ever seen in my life. As I wandered around, I felt as if I were in that song Walking in a Winter Wonderland.

Most of the booths were decked out with lights and pine branches and other Christmassy decorations. The thin layer of snow and the huge decorated tree in the center of the booths made the food area look like a little Christmas village. Jordan, Ross, and Kieran were staying out of sight, trying to get some rest before the concert. I knew they wouldn’t get much actual rest—all of them were always hyped before a performance. I was sure Jordan wanted to walk around in the fields to chill out and relax, but it wasn’t possible. The usually calm and quiet fields of the Selby farm were flooded with a deluge of strangers, making me wonder if this was what Woodstock looked like, only with Christmas trees instead of hippies. I knew the boys were excited. They hadn’t performed live in a long time. In a few months, they’d be on tour again, but it’d been weeks and weeks since their last tour and they were champing at the bit. I was amazed at the amount of security. It looked like an army had invaded. I guess it was necessary, though. I didn’t see how there could be reserved seating, but it had been managed. There were huge roped off rows marked with letters and numbers. Security was keeping things well in hand. The press started showing up around 4:00—local news crews and even some national. E.T. was there, along with an MTV crew. The local radio station was broadcasting live right from a big van. The whole place was a beehive of activity, although it reminded me more of an anthill that’d just been kicked.

I was just ducking around a truck to avoid a reporter when a security guard called out my name. Standing beside him was a boy of perhaps sixteen who was looking about nervously. “This is Hunter Radcliff. I was given instructions to bring him to you.” “Oh, yes,” I said, remembering the boy Jordan had told me about—the one he’d met on the internet. I must admit I’d been a little leery of Jordan meeting someone off the internet like that. It wasn’t safe. Hunter seemed harmless enough, however. “You’re Ralph,” said Hunter, as the security guard departed. “You’re Jordan’s boyfriend! Wow! Jordan, my Jordan that is, said he had a connection, but I never dreamed...Um, do you think I could meet Jordan? Your boyfriend that is?” “I’m sure that can be arranged.” I smiled. I wondered what Hunter would do when he found out that the Jordan he’d been chatting with on the internet was my Jordan, as Hunter called him. “Where’s Jordan?” asked Hunter. “My Jordan I mean. Oh, this is too confusing.” “I’ll take you to him now. I’m sure things will be a good deal less confusing when you meet him.” “This is wild,” said Hunter, looking around at the throngs of people and reporters. “It’s my idea of Heaven. Just think about it—everyone here loves Phantom, just like me, only not as much!”

I laughed. It’d been a while since I’d met anyone as enthusiastic as Hunter. I wondered if I was ever like that—and then I remembered, I was exactly like that. I led Hunter into the farmhouse. Ethan was sitting at the kitchen table with Nick. “Where’s Jordan?” I asked. “Up in his room, I think,” said Ethan. “Thanks.” We climbed the stairs. The door to the bedroom was open and we walked right in. “Jordan, Hunter’s here,” I said. Jordan was gazing out the window. He turned and smiled. It was a good thing I was standing right behind Hunter. He squealed, “Oh my God!” and then his knees buckled. I had to catch him or he’d have hit the floor. He looked back and forth from Jordan to me. “I thought you were taking me to meet my Jordan,” he said, although he was clearly not displeased. “I did,” I said. Hunter stood on his own, swallowed hard, and looked at Jordan. “You mean, all those times I was talking on the internet, I was talking to you?” he asked, incredulously. “Yes,” said Jordan, “you were. I hope you’re not mad, but I couldn’t tell you who I really was and I didn’t think you’d believe me if I did.” “I’d have thought you were a poser for sure,” said Hunter. “I’m not mad, though,” he added quickly. “Not

by a long shot. I can’t believe it! I’ve been talking to the Jordan all this time!” Jordan smiled. “Let’s not call me ‘the Jordan.’ It makes me sound pompous.” “Okay, um, should I call you Mr. Potter then?” “Call me Jordan, that’s my name.” Hunter sank into a chair as if he was faint. “This is just too much,” he said. “Hunter, chill,” said Jordan. “I’m just a guy, that’s all.” “But you’re not! You’re Jordan! Oh my God! I can’t believe I’m talking to you!” Jordan took a deep breath. I could tell he was trying to think of a way to convince Hunter he put his pants on one leg at a time, just like everyone else. One thing I loved about Jordan is that he’d never quite grown used to the hero worship some of his fans had for him. Situations such as this tended to overwhelm him a bit. I admired his humility. “Listen, Hunter,” said Jordan, sitting down by him. “One reason I liked chatting with you online is that you talked to me about real things. You didn’t treat me special. I was just another guy. I know this probably has you weirded out, but I’d really appreciate it if you could just talk to me like you did online. It’s me, okay? I’m the guy you’ve been discussing your problems with— your hopes and dreams. I’m the Jordan you knew online.”

Hunter nodded and smiled, then looked embarrassed. “Oh! Some of the things I said! I can’t believe I talked to you about your hair! And all the stuff I said about you...” “It’s okay. Listen, I know I wasn’t exactly fair to you. You didn’t know who I was, so you said things you probably wouldn’t have said otherwise. I’m sorry I put you in that spot, but it was either that, or I couldn’t talk to you and I really wanted to talk to you. You’re a wonderful guy.” “Having you say that makes me believe it,” said Hunter. “You should believe it because it’s true. I don’t know why you can’t see it for yourself.” “I’ll try,” said Hunter. “Now it makes sense!” “What?” “Well, you were in a Phantom chat room, but you never seemed to want to talk about Phantom. I thought that was a little odd.” “I was a little uncomfortable talking about myself when you didn’t know it was me. Besides, it was hard to remember I couldn’t let you know my true identity. I’m not used to lying.” I left them alone to talk. Jordan was doing a good job of getting Hunter calmed down. I often wondered what it would be like to walk in Jordan’s shoes. Sometimes, people, especially girls, actually screamed when they met him. I don’t think I could’ve ever gotten used to

that. I was happy that it wasn’t necessary for me. Long before I’d met Jordan, I’d had dreams of fame, but after seeing it up close, I knew it wasn’t for me. *** By 6:30 p.m. the whole meadow was packed. Most fans had long ago staked claim to their seats, but a few were roaming around buying Phantom t-shirts and food. I had security take Hunter to his seat, and then joined the guys. “You nervous?” I asked Jordan, as he peeked out from the makeshift backdrop on the stage. “Yeah, but psyched, like always.” Ross was nodding his head up and down, as if keeping time to a beat that no one else could hear. Kieran was fiddling with his guitar, even though the sound check had gone perfectly. Chad was running around making last minute adjustments. It was a familiar sight. There was a loud pop and smoke rose from one of the power boxes near a big amp close to the edge of the stage. “Damn!” said Chad and ran toward it. I had no doubt he’d have whatever it was fixed before the show, even though 7:00 p.m. was near. I was right. The crowd was already screaming and chanting, “Phantom, Phantom” and “Jordan, Jordan.” Shafts of

red and green pulsing light fell down upon us backstage, and the stars shined in a partly cloudy sky overhead. A light snow was falling and I was glad of my leather jacket. Jordan, Ross, and Kieran were all dressed in sweaters—not their usual concert attire, but then they didn’t usually perform outside in falling snow. There was no opening act, so Phantom ran onto the stage, right at 7:00. They jumped into a rendition of What Christmas Means To Me, with Kieran singing the lead. The crowd went wild. The screams were so deafening when the guys ran out that at first I thought the sound system wasn’t working at all. I was wrong, though; there was just that much screaming. Jordan had planned on maybe a thousand fans showing up for the first concert, but someone had told me there were over three thousand people in the crowd. I didn’t doubt it one bit. There was a sea of faces staring at the guys. I stood offstage watching the boys perform. They were bathed in ever changing red, green, and white light, which looked especially magical in the falling snow. One of the crew was ringing sleigh bells with the beat and I half expected to see Santa and his reindeer fly overhead. All around were Christmas trees blazing with lights. It felt as if the concert were being performed in a big forest, which wasn’t so far from the truth after all. “I want to thank you all for coming here this evening,” said Jordan when Phantom had finished their

first song, “and for helping us to support a really great cause.” There were screams of “Jordan” and “Phantom” coming from everywhere. Girls and guys were holding up signs reading, “I love you, Jordan”, “Phantom rules!” and all kinds of variations. One girl was holding up a sign that read, “If you start liking girls, Jordan, I’m here for you, baby!” I thought that one was funny as hell. Another read, “Pick me, Ross!” which made me wonder if the girl holding it had heard about his sexual escapades. Ross had been getting around, but the press had blown it way out of proportion, as usual. “Now we’re gonna do a great cover that I think you’ll all recognize,” said Jordan. He looked out at the crowd and said, “I want you to want me,” somehow making every person there think he was speaking only to them. Ross started in with a quick drumbeat and at first I didn’t recognize the song, but then Jordan began to sing—“I want you to love me. I need you to love me.” I knew then they were doing a Cheap Trick song. The girls all got this dreamy look when Jordan sang, “Oh, didn't I, didn't I, didn't I see you cryin'?” A lot of the boys did, too. I noticed something had changed since the tour. There were way more boys in the audience than ever before. There’d always been quite a few, but now there were a lot more. I’d noticed a few more near the end of the tour, after Jordan had come out publicly, but nothing like I was seeing now. I smiled to myself when I thought of Jordan’s old manager, who insisted he’d

destroyed Phantom by telling the world he was gay. Since then, record sales had gone up and if attendance at this concert was any indication, the upcoming tour was going to be a total success. Since it was near Christmas, Phantom did mostly holiday songs. My favorite was Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree, but Little Saint Nick, Run, Rudolph, Run, and Everybody Knows The Claus were jumpin’, too. The boys did some slow songs and the whole crowd got quiet when they did I’ll Be Home For Christmas and Silent Night. It was as if the whole world was listening as they sang. The guys did a lot of songs off their albums. The crowd really got into Jump Back, New York Nights, and You Don’t Know. The place was definitely rockin’. Even the cattle and horses were looking over the fences, watching the show. Mikey and his date, Derek, were standing backstage near me and they both looked like they could walk on air. They reminded me of myself when I’d first seen Phantom perform. They reminded me of myself right now. No matter how many times I saw Jordan, Kieran, and Ross do their stuff, it was like the very first time. I almost couldn’t contain myself. I looked for Hunter in the crowd, but couldn’t pick him out; the bright lights blinded me. My heart was pounding when the guys finished You Don’t Know. Seeing Jordan play the keyboard always got me going. I’d been dancing in place without even knowing it. The guys went through song after song— mostly their own and Christmas tunes, but some covers,

too. Kieran was really wailing on the guitar. He’d always been one of the best guitarists in the world, in my opinion, but he was even better than before. The guys were definitely improving with age. That was sure true of Jordan. He was still slim, but he’d put on a little more muscle and—wow! “You guys are wild tonight!” yelled Jordan over the screams of the crowd. Even though it was cold, I could see a sheen of sweat on his face. Performing was hard work. “The next song is to show all of you how much we appreciate you being here tonight. Thanks to you we’ve raised over $120,000 tonight from ticket sales alone! You guys rock!” Jordan raised his voice and started singing a song everyone knew, Do You Know That I Love You. That song had always been special to me, but never more so than the moment Jordan sang it to me at a concert just a few hours before we bumped into each other in the Holiday Inn in Fort Wayne. That was the start of it all. Before, I’d been just another fan, after that everything changed. The energy of the crowd was intense. I’d almost forgotten how powerful it could be. There were hundreds and hundreds of voices screaming and singing along, it was the sheer adulation of a mass of fans. Some of them were crying with happiness. I know Jordan wouldn’t have appreciated the comparison, because he never thought of himself that way, but when he was up there singing, he was like a god. I had no

doubt in my mind that his talent was God given. Something like that didn’t happen by accident. The guys did three encores before the end of the show. They even sang Do You Know That I Love You one more time. When Jordan ran off the stage and clasped me in a bear hug, he was drenched with sweat, while I was chilly in my leather jacket. “Hey, man!” said Jordan, turning to Mikey. “Is this Derek?” Derek puffed out his chest as if proud that Jordan actually knew his name. “Yeah, this is him. Isn’t he cute?” “He sure is,” said Jordan. Derek ducked his head, but grinned. He was a little cutie—about fifteen, AfricanAmerican, with dreamy brown eyes and long eyelashes that made him adorable. I could see why Mikey had a major crush on him. I smiled looking at the pair; they looked so sweet together. “Hey, I gotta get cleaned up for the meet and greet, but I’ll see you guys there, all right?” “Sure, Jordan.” As he ran off, Derek said, “Now that’s hot!” He realized what he’d said and looked at me with a guilty expression on his face. “It’s okay,” I said, smiling. “And you’re right, Jordan is hot!” Derek grinned at me and so did Mikey. Derek and Mikey had their arms around each other’s shoulders,

and Mikey leaned over and gave Derek a kiss on the cheek. They were so cute. “Come on, I’ll escort you two over to the meet and greet to make sure you don’t have any trouble getting in.” I dropped the boys off at the tent where the meet and greet was going to take place. They looked as if they might just explode from the excitement. I made my way back to the stage as quickly as possible, which wasn’t too fast due to the huge throng of people milling about. I had a surprise for Jordan—I just hoped my surprise hadn’t gotten lost, or crushed in the press of the crowd. I soon discovered I had nothing to worry about and moments later was heading back toward the meet and greet area. This time around, the meet and greet was an exclusive affair. Nearly everyone there had paid $500 for the chance to meet Phantom, get photos taken with them, and have autographs signed. There were only about sixty people there—fifty who’d paid and a few others like me who saw Jordan and the others all the time. There were also two very special guests. They were my surprise for Jordan. Jordan was talking with a very excited girl when he looked up and saw us coming. I overhead him say to her, “I promise I’ll come right back to you, okay, but there’s someone I have to see.” “Of course, Jordan.” The girl had such a dreamy look in her eyes that I think she’d have done anything for

him. The loyalty and awe Jordan inspired in his fans still amazed me sometimes. Jordan stepped quickly to us and hugged his grandmother. As he stepped back, his eyes immediately shifted to the elderly man standing beside her. They each hesitated for a moment and then hugged. The old man pulled away with watery eyes. He was trembling. “I’m so very glad to meet you,” said Jordan’s grandfather, with a loving look in his eyes. “When Shirley told me about you—I...I just couldn’t believe it, but when I saw you, I knew. You’re definitely your father’s son, without a doubt. You look exactly as I remember him.” The old man gingerly reached out, hesitantly touching his grandson’s cheek, as if afraid that Jordan would pull away. Instead, Jordan smiled sadly at him. “A son. My boy had a son. I never thought...For all these years...We never knew.” “We’re so proud of you,” said Jordan’s grandmother, patting the back of his hand. “I simply can’t believe all this,” she said, indicating the hustle and bustle that surrounded them, the adoring fans, and all the rest. “I had no idea.” Jordan grinned. It was a smile that came from knowing that his grandparents were proud of him. I think that meant more to him than anyone would ever know. “I didn’t even know you were here, Grandma!” said Jordan.

“Your friend, Ralph, your boyfriend, arranged it for us.” Jordan turned to me and smiled. I loved him with all my heart. “You’re so talented, Jordan, you sing so beautifully,” said Mrs. Potter. “Thank you.” “Well, we know you’re very busy right now and we don’t want to be in the way. You will come and visit us soon, won’t you?” “Of course I will, Grandma! I’d love to talk to you right now, but...” He glanced over his shoulder at the girl and all the others excitedly waiting on him. “We understand.” “Please, please come soon,” said Jordan’s grandfather. “I will. I promise.” “I’ll help you back to your car,” I said. Before I left with Jordan’s grandparents, Jordan hugged me close and gave me a quick kiss on the lips. “I love you so much, you know that?” he said. “And I love you!” I squeezed him tight, and then let him return to his adoring fans.

Jordan I slept in the morning after the first concert. I just had time for a very late breakfast before security escorted Hunter into the farmhouse. I wanted to spend some time with him before he headed back to Fort Wayne. I would’ve liked to have walked around the farm with him, but the crowds made it impossible. We weren’t performing again until the evening, but there were lots of people outside. All the booths were staying open, so it was kind of like an open-air Christmas market. I wished I could go and look around, but Mike wouldn’t hear of it. He was probably right. The farmhouse itself was rather crowded, so I took Hunter to the room I shared with Ralph. “Did you enjoy the concert?” I asked. “It was a dream come true. You know, you’re not like I thought you’d be.” “Disappointed?” I asked. “No, not at all! You just seem so glamorous on TV and in magazines, but in person you’re more, um...normal. You seem like someone I could know from school or something.” I smiled. “Thanks.” “I was thinking about you and Ralph last night,” said Hunter. “And?”

“Well, I guess you could have about any guy you wanted for a boyfriend, any guy into guys anyway. You’re with Ralph, though. He seems really nice, but he’s not like a model or anything. I mean, I don’t mean to put him down at all, but he’s just an ordinary guy, kind of like me. You could have a pretty boy, or a jock, or whatever if you wanted, but you picked him. That makes me feel really good, like I’ve got a shot at finding a boyfriend. I hope I’m not making you mad.” “You’re not. I know what you’re trying to say. Ralph’s no model, but he’s very beautiful to me. I’m very lucky to have him. When I look at Ralph, I see not just his outside, but his inside, too, if you know what I mean. To me, there’s no one more beautiful.” “Yeah, I get it. I guess I just expect everyone to be shallow. I mean, most of the time when I trade guys’ self-pics on the internet, they send fake ones of really good lookin’ guys. It’s like they’re ashamed because they don’t look like they stepped out of an Abercrombie & Fitch catalog. And sometimes, when I send my pic, they stop talking to me and I figure it’s because I’m not good looking enough for them.” “Well, if someone stops talking to you because of your looks, then they aren’t worth talking to anyway.” “That’s one thing I liked about you. When I sent my pic, you kept right on talking to me. You even said I looked good.” “You did and you do. You’re an attractive guy, Hunter.”

“I don’t think so, but I like that you don’t judge people just on their looks.” “I’d be pretty shallow and stupid if I did that,” I said. “Even before I knew you were you, I liked you a lot because of the way you treated me—with respect. I felt like you cared about a lot more than just how I looked.” “I do.” “I know and that’s why it’s so cool talking to you.” “I hope we can continue that,” I said. “Just remember, there are times when I get so busy I won’t be able to be online for days or even weeks at a time.” “I can understand that. I’m amazed you ever have time to chat.” “I don’t often, but sometimes you have to make the time. The night you sent me that message, I was on because I couldn’t get to sleep, and I was curious. It was kind of fun seeing what people were saying about me in the chat room. It was kind of like I was invisible. You surprised the heck out of me when you sent a message. I didn’t even know it was possible to send private messages like that. Ralph said he’d talked to people on the internet before, but I thought he just meant in a chat room.” Hunter and I kept talking. I was very pleased that he was treating me as a person, and not a celebrity. I hoped we’d be able to keep in touch. I gave him my private email address, because I knew I’d have precious little time to chat online once we started promoting the new album.

Kieran poked his head into the room. “Hey, Jordan, we need to get going. The film crew is ready to shoot some footage for the video.” “Oh, yeah, be right there,” I said. I turned to Hunter. “You want to come and watch. We’re doing this video that will be on MTV around Christmas. A crew is also shooting some footage for some other Christmas videos we’ll do later.” “Hell, yeah!” said Hunter. We walked downstairs where Mike and extra security were waiting. I made sure they knew that Hunter was to stick close to me. I didn’t want him to get lost in the shuffle. We headed out the doors and made our way slowly to the big Christmas tree where we’d be filming first. The crowd was pretty cool about letting us through, especially when they found out they were going to be treated to an unannounced mini-concert. The weather was cooperating perfectly for the video. There was no need to use the snow-machines that had been trucked in, as there was plenty of snow on the ground. The temperatures were cold, but the wind was virtually nil, so all it took to stay warm was a sweater. During the several minutes it took to get everything set up, I managed to get Hunter a spot behind us so he’d likely show up in the video. He was thrilled about that. We performed Rockin’ ‘Round The Christmas Tree, while the film crew shot footage of us. Actually, we sang all the way through it three times, then did small sections of it again—all so the cameras could get things from different angles. We had to cut for a couple

minutes when a jet passed overhead. That was one of the problems with filming outside. We moved around the farm to several different locations and sang parts of the song over again. It was repetitious, but I didn’t mind. Hunter looked like he was having a blast. It took a lot longer for the crew to set up at the other sites where we filmed. There was quite a bit of equipment to move, including big lights like they use on movie sets. We had to cut off at a little after 4:00 p.m., because the crowds were getting too thick. We’d planned to film the video over a period of a couple days anyway. The director said things were going well and he had nearly all the footage he needed for the video. We’d be able to finish the next day with ease. Videos usually took much more time, but this one was rather simple. I was able to look around a bit between takes. I loved all the decorations, and the gently falling snow made everything just so, well, Christmassy. The Scouts even sent me a cup of hot cocoa and it was yummy. Hunter had to head back to Fort Wayne after the concert and I knew there wouldn’t be time to say “goodbye” then, so we returned to the farmhouse and talked a bit more. Ethan invited Hunter to stay for supper as he and Nathan were preparing huge amounts of food. Nick and Sean were there and Hunter hit it off with them immediately. They exchanged phone numbers and email addresses and I had a feeling they’d become good friends.

Before it was time to clean up and change for the concert, I loaded Hunter down with signed Phantom CD’s and photos. He promised to email soon, and I promised to respond as soon as I could. I was delighted to see him so happy as he walked out the door.

Ralph The whole benefit was well organized, but there were still dozens of details that had to be handled, everything from making sure the trash was taken away to organizing the guest list for the meet and greets. There was always someone from the press around, wanting an interview. Thanks to Wellerson and the F.A.F., the benefit had become bigger news than anyone had expected. The F.A.F. wasn’t taking kindly to our efforts to raise funds to keep gay youth centers going, and its members were on the attack. There were even a few picketing the concert, but no one paid them any attention. I stood beside Jordan when a CNN reporter asked him a question about the F.A.F. I knew it must have become big news if CNN had shown up. “What is your response to the comment made by Jerry Wellerson, director and founder of the F.A.F., that you’re attempting to corrupt the youth of America?” “What we’re trying to do here is raise funds to keep valuable services going—services that are being unfairly cut because they benefit gays. The gay youth centers provide help to kids in dealing with their problems. They run 24-hour hotlines that confused, abused, or suicidal kids can call. These centers help kids and save lives. Where’s the corruption in that? I might add that these services are available to all—no

one is turned away because of sexual orientation. I don’t know much about this morals group you mentioned, but I think that anyone who opposes counseling and services for children, services that can and do save lives, seriously needs to examine their beliefs.” I nearly yelled, “Way to go, Jordan!” but I restrained myself. Wellerson had been beaten badly in his debate with Reverend Gerard, but now he was turning his full attention on us. As we sat around the kitchen table after the CNN interview, Jordan read us an article that featured Wellerson’s thoughts on Phantom and other popular singing groups. They weren’t kind thoughts at all. The South Bend Standard Is Pop Music Promoting Perversion? Reverend Jerry Wellerson claims that prancing pop performers such as Phantom are inadvertently making millions of once-virile young men "gayer than a rainbow flag." "The way they flounce around on stage, singing with their girly voices sets off a hormonal chain reaction in poor, innocent boys that is leading them down the path of homosexuality and perversity." Wellerson first noticed the phenomenon in his own 12-year-old son, whose name he asked not be published.

Wellerson says at first he was relieved that his son had chosen the boy band tunes over "the disgusting and vile music that’s currently corrupting our youth." But that quickly changed when he discovered that the music had his son yearning for members of his own sex. "I found a Playgirl and a poster of a sweaty, seductive Jordan from Phantom hidden under his bed," recalls Wellerson, his lower lip trembling. "When I asked him what he needed with pictures of naked men, he just started singing I Love That Kind of Love by Phantom. I wanted to slap my very own son, but I feared it would just make him an even bigger sissy." Wellerson says he soon discovered that many of his parishioners had been suffering from similar problems with their own boy-band-obsessed sons, who had forsaken manly sports like football and wrestling for limp-wristed dancing and singing. “This is what is wrong with American society,” commented Wellerson. “This is why there is such widespread moral decay. Boy bands like Phantom are corrupting the young boys of America, turning them into homosexuals. The queers are trying to take over, and they’re doing it through music. They need to be stopped—no matter what it takes—no matter the means that must be used. To counteract the “feminizing effects” of boy bands, Wellerson recommends maximum masculine exposure, with continual doses of

football, hockey, boxing, tractor pulls, WWF matches, dwarf tossing, and good ole fistfights. "I'm not saying that watching or participating in these events will take away all the swish and wrist bending," says Wellerson, "but they will sure suck some of the feminine tendencies and unnatural desires out of these misguided boys. “We’ve got to strike back against the queers. This is a war. They’re trying to take over and we have to use any means we can to slap them down. Exposing boys to manly pastimes is the first step in stamping out homosexuality in our society. If we wish to become the America we once were, we have to put an end to this threat from our enemy inside America—to this stealthy homosexual terrorism practiced by such swishy boy bands as Phantom.” ”What a moron,” said Jordan, after he’d read the article. ”What a lying bastard,” said Ross. ”Dwarf tossing?” asked Kieran. “Is this guy for real? That is so wrong on multiple levels. Why do I have the feeling this guy spends his spare time stepping on baby chicks?” ”He’s calling for violence against gays,” said Ethan. “He’s dangerous. He hasn’t been foolish enough to come right out and say it, but he knows that every bigot

and small minded person who reads this will see it as a green light for gay bashing.” ”It seems to me he’s come real close to saying it outright,” said Jordan. ‘We have to use any means we can to slap them down’ seems pretty straightforward to me.” The mood in the room was not cheerful. It was people like Wellerson who were trying to erase all the gains that gays had made toward equality. It was people like him who encouraged gay bashing as a Christian sport. I was surprised he didn’t say that boys should form gangs and bash gays to hone their masculine skills. ”He called us a boy band, too! I hate that!” said Kieran. “We’re not a boy band! N’SYNC is a boy band. The Backstreet Boys are a boy band. We’re not! We play our own instruments and write our own songs. How can someone call us a boy band?” ”I don’t think that’s our biggest problem here,” said Ross. ”I know, but it just ticks me off!” It was amusing to see Kieran get riled up over something so trivial. ”Well gentlemen,” said Jordan, “I think all we can do is go out and raise some more money for the youth centers. If this ‘reverend’ wants to dis us he can just go at it, because it won’t change a thing as far as we’re concerned.”

I was proud of Jordan’s determination. I could tell he was worried, though, so was I. He was speaking of the badmouthing of Wellerson, but the real threat was his call to arms. It was people like Wellerson that incited hate crimes and more than enough gays had already died at the hands of the prejudiced. *** The last of the three concerts was just as packed as the first two. It was amazing that so many people descended upon the little town of Verona, Indiana. Of course, Phantom was the number one rock band in the entire world, but it was still surreal to see so many people in such a little place. I’d driven into town for a few markers for signing autographs and I couldn’t believe how crowded it was. Verona had turned into a boomtown, at least temporarily. I imagined that businesses were grateful that Phantom had come to town. I arranged backstage passes for Mikey and Derek again. They’d come to the first two shows and were dying to see the third. I just couldn’t say “no” to those boys. Looking at them was like looking at myself, just a short time ago. Their obsession with Jordan and Phantom was so much like my own. I knew that being near him was the thrill of a lifetime for those boys and I was happy that I could make their dream come true so easily. I wished Hunter could have stayed for the entire benefit as well, but I don’t think he felt slighted in the

least. He looked like he was walking on air when he left. Before the last show, Nick and Sean brought the friends they’d told me about, Tara and Rachel, up to the farmhouse to meet Phantom. Even though the girls had promised not to scream when they met Jordan, they forgot all about their word of honor. Their piercing shrieks were so loud that Jordan held his hands over his ears. The girls apologized, but then screamed again. They didn’t seem to be able to help themselves. Jordan was sweet and charming with them and so were Kieran and Ross. They even signed some stuff for them. Nick took photos of Tara and Rachel with the guys. When they left to find their seats, they were once again squealing with delight, saying to each other, “I can’t believe it! We met Phantom!” They also covered Nick and Sean with kisses. I would have thought that girls might not scream as much over Jordan after he came out, but it didn’t seem to make any difference. Gay or straight didn’t seem to matter to most girls—they loved him just the same. Girls seemed to be a lot more accepting about things than guys. Maybe they were just smarter. Who knows? I couldn’t believe how smoothly everything had gone. Aside from some minor problems created by organizing such a huge event on such short notice, everything went better than any of us had hoped. The fans were extremely cooperative. At the beginning of every concert, Jordan personally appealed to the fans not to press up against the stage and they listened to

him. The danger of someone getting trampled was something we were all worried about, hence the huge amount of security and reserved seating (or rather standing) areas. Phantom fans were known for being well behaved. The only real danger was when they became overly enthusiastic. *** It happened when I was standing just offstage to the left, down among the fans. Jordan was at his keyboard, singing Do You Know That I Love You at the far end of the stage, while Kieran was closest to me, playing his guitar, partially blocking my view of Jordan. Ross was in the center and a bit further back, playing his drums like a wild boy. Mikey and Derek were standing just beyond Jordan, idolizing him, clearly thrilled to be standing almost on top of him. The whole scene was frozen in my mind, because that’s when it went down. I didn’t hear a thing above the music and the screams of the fans, but I saw Jordan fall, just after a bright red fountain of blood exploded from him. Everything happened so fast that it was all a blur. Phantom’s bodyguards snapped into action. Rod hurled himself at Kieran, knocking him to the floor of the stage, covering him with his body. Shawn seemingly came out of nowhere and knocked Ross to the floor as well. Mike was kneeling over Jordan, speaking quickly and furiously into his mike, while scanning those nearby for signs of further attack. Security swarmed

around the stage while fans screamed in fear, grief and anger. There was a scuffle to my right, not far into the crowd. Someone had been pushed down, teenaged fans were on top of someone, beating him senseless. Security moved in and pulled a young man to his feet, bloody and fighting to escape. His hands were handcuffed behind his back even before I could make my way to the stage. I had to fight my way through security. They wouldn’t let me pass at first, even though I shoved my all access pass at them. Only when one of them recognized who I was did they let me through. There was chaos on the stage, and I had to push and shove my way to Jordan. I could barely see him, laying on the stage, red blood staining the floor around him. That’s when I heard it. That’s when I heard someone say, “He’s dead.” I just fell to my knees and screamed, “Noooooooooooo!” I screamed and cried. It couldn’t be true. Bright red, green, and white lights swirled in my tearfilled eyes. The roar of the crowd seemed to grow distant. All hell was breaking loose around me, but I felt as if I wasn’t really there. It was like I was observing from a distance, almost as if I was watching the scene on TV. It was all far too real, however. I was so shocked and grief stricken that I felt sick. My stomach churned and my whole body felt as if it were not quite real. I wanted to scream, but my own sobs silenced me.

When I stopped trembling enough to raise myself from my knees, I pushed my way closer to Jordan where he lay on the floor, his Kurzweil keyboard overturned near him. It was a sight I’d seen in my nightmares—Jordan laying bloody and dead, gunned down by some crazed fanatic. I knelt down by Jordan, tears nearly blinding me, and grasped his hand. Shock ripped through my body when I felt it squeeze mine. I looked at Jordan’s eyes. They were open and gazing at me. “Hey,” he said. His voice was shaky and a bit weak, but it didn’t matter. He was alive. I looked just beyond him and my heart fell. Mikey, the boy who so adored Jordan, the boy who I’d arranged to be allowed backstage—was lying still on the floor, covered in blood. Derek was sitting beside him, bawling hysterically and pitifully. Jordan tried to raise himself up, but Mike pushed on his chest. “Stay down!” I heard sirens. The onsite EMT’s were already at the stage. They dropped down beside Mikey and Jordan. I heard someone over the loudspeaker, telling everyone to remain calm; telling them the gunman had already been taken into custody. “You’re going to be okay,” I heard one of the EMT’s tell Jordan. “Nothing vital was hit. The bullet just passed through your upper arm. We can almost fix it with a Band-Aid.” Jordan smiled at his humor, but it would take more than a Band-Aid I was sure. Still, he wasn’t badly hurt

and, most importantly, he wasn’t dead. Two gurneys were brought onto the stage. Medics lifted Mikey’s still form onto one of them. Jordan tried to get up again. Mike pushed him down again. “Damn it! Will you let me sit up?” snapped Jordan. “It’s for your own safety.” “The danger has passed and what about their safety,” he said nodding with his head towards the crowd. “They’ve got to see me on my feet.” “That’s not a good idea,” said the EMT. “You’ve lost some blood. You’re likely to pass out.” “Just for a few moments then. Just let them see me standing, then I’ll lay down,” he said, indicating the gurney waiting on him. Jordan sat up and this time Mike didn’t stop him. I helped Jordan to his feet. There was a big gauze pad taped to his upper arm, right at the shoulder. It was dyed crimson. There was blood on his wife-beater and his exposed flesh. I grabbed a mike for him when he gestured for it. There were gasps when the crowd saw him, cries of relief. “Everyone...Please...Calm down.” The mere sight of Jordan alive and well enough to stand, seemed to calm them. Security was swarming all over, joined now by local and state police. Most of the crowd was quickly being dispersed. Others were staring intently at the stage. Jordan spoke a few words of comfort to the crowd. He swayed a little. I grabbed his good arm and took the mike from him. I helped guide

him gently onto the gurney. The EMT’s wheeled him away and I stayed right with him. I wasn’t about to leave his side for a moment, even though the danger had passed.

Jordan Getting shot is painful; I learned that real fast. I’m glad there was no warning. It just happened. I felt a searing pain in my shoulder and fell to the stage. I remembered my only thought at that moment was that I hoped my keyboard wouldn’t be ruined when it fell. It was going to the stage with me. I knocked it down as I collapsed. It’s funny that I was thinking about something so insignificant as a keyboard, when I should’ve been wondering if my life was at its end. I’m glad I didn’t know that Mikey had been hit. I’d have been out of my mind with grief if they’d told me. I couldn’t see him, even though he was barely more than a yard away. They wouldn’t let me up, wouldn’t let me move. It was all kind of blurry at first. Maybe it was shock. Maybe it was from hitting my head on the stage. Mike—he was there in a flash. He hovered over me, checking to make sure I was okay, even as he scanned those around me for potential threats. Ralph and I always joked around about him being my Secret Service man, but I was glad he was there. Everything was fine after a couple hours in the emergency room. My upper arm was bandaged—I’d even received stitches, but they said I’d have full use of my arm in no time at all. Even better, there was no permanent damage. I felt like I was ready to play the keyboard even as I lay in my hospital bed. I don’t know

what I would’ve done if I’d lost the ability to play. My life would’ve been over. I was freaked when they brought me into the emergency room. It wasn’t because I thought I was going to die. I knew I wasn’t. They’d already told me that. There was blood all over me, and my arm hurt like hell, but I knew I’d survive. I was freaked because I’d seen Mikey rolled past me on a gurney. He was covered in blood and he wasn’t moving. It wasn’t long before I found out he was still alive, even though I could have sworn I heard someone say, “He’s dead,” as I lay there on the stage. At the time, I thought they might’ve been talking about me, although I felt pretty alive. I didn’t know how death worked. The news after that was better still. Mikey was fine. The same bullet that had passed through my upper arm got him in the shoulder. They said it could have got him in the heart had it been a little lower, but he’d lucked out—if you can call getting shot lucky. There was no permanent damage, just the loss of a lot of blood. He’d be fine, in time. I felt tremendous guilt pushing at me. Mikey was there to see me. If it hadn’t been for me, he wouldn’t have been in danger. That bullet was meant for me, no doubt about it. Mikey was shot because of me. I was having trouble dealing with that, but the painkillers were keeping me from thinking about it too much. Ralph never left my side. The nurses tried to shoo him out of the room, but he was like an angry guard dog. He wouldn’t budge. I saw concern in his eyes and

furrowed brow. I had to assure him over and over that I was okay. Mike had extra security with him when he escorted me out of the hospital the next day. A wall of guards surrounded Ralph and me. They acted like I was the President or something. I didn’t dare protest. I wasn’t about to argue with Mike. He’d always been paranoid that someone would shoot me and it’d happened. I knew my freedom was at an end. I’d be lucky if I was allowed to use the bathroom by myself. I hoped I could at least get Mike to leave the bedroom when Ralph and I made love. The wall of bodyguards was necessary. There’s no way we could’ve made it to the car without them. There must have been at least a couple hundred fans hanging around the side entrance. Somehow, they knew which exit we’d be using. Tears welled up in my eyes as I read some of the signs, “We love you, Jordan”, “Get Well Soon, Jordan”, “We Don’t Ever Wanna Lose You, Jordan”, and more. The fans were keeping a respectful distance and weren’t pressing in the way they usually did. It was the press that was the problem. There were a whole slew of camera crews there. Some of them were getting really pushy. I remembered, however, that the press had helped to make our recent efforts to raise money for gay youth centers a success. The extra publicity was probably responsible for the amazingly huge crowds. Donations had been rolling in, too. I’d never expected that. The guys and me always got a ton

of mail, but now, instead of requests for autographs the envelopes held checks, money orders, and even cash. All of it was being put in a special account, along with the funds from the benefit concerts, meet and greets, and all the other fund raising events. I almost couldn’t believe it, but we’d raised over half a million dollars and all the money hadn’t come in yet, so the total would go still higher. I didn’t think we’d raise that much in my wildest dreams. A lot of that was made possible by the press, so I stopped to answer some of their questions. Mike nervously scanned those near me while the others kept an eye out for any possible threat. “Jordan, are the rumors true that you’ve suffered severe nerve damage and will no longer be able to play?” asked one reporter. “No. I don’t know where that rumor started, but other than being a little sore, I’m fine. There’s no permanent damage.” “Do the authorities believe there was a second gunman?” “This isn’t the Kennedy case,” I replied. Were these guys for real? The police had been to my hospital room and asked me all kinds of questions already. It was a pain in the ass. I didn’t know why they asked me so much stuff, especially when they already had the guy who shot Mikey and me. “Will Phantom’s next tour be cancelled or delayed due to fears of another assassination attempt?”

Assassination? What were these guys thinking? I wasn’t a world leader. I was just me. “Recent events will change nothing. We’ll be going ahead with the tour and all our scheduled appearances.” “Do you know anything about the gunman’s motive?” “I haven’t a clue.” There were more questions and some of them were pretty stupid, in my opinion. At least no one asked me if I had plans to cut my hair. I patiently answered the questions as best I could, even the ignorant ones. “One more question,” said Mike, “then Jordan needs to go.” I was glad Mike stepped in. I was becoming fatigued. It seemed my strength had not yet returned. “Have you, or other band members, received any recent death threats?” “I’m afraid I can’t answer that question. There is an ongoing investigation and I’ve been asked not to comment on anything pertaining to the case.” It was true, but it wasn’t a question I’d have wanted to answer anyway. The truth was there had been death threats, specifically threatening to kill me if I continued to work for gay causes. Only Mike, the police, and I knew about those. Even Kieran and Ross weren’t aware of them. I didn’t want them to know—they’d only be more worried about me. “No one has asked,” I said, “but Mikey Sisk, the boy who was also injured at the concert, is doing well. In another day or so, he’ll be able to go home. The one

thing I’m truly sorry for is the pain and suffering that Mikey has had to endure.” I turned from the cameras. More questions were shouted, but I ignored them. Ralph and I were escorted to a big limousine with bulletproof glass and soon we were on our way back to the farm. Mike thought it best that I leave Verona, since it was known I was there, but I convinced him that we could hardly keep my whereabouts a secret, no matter where I was in the world. It didn’t matter anyway. I had unfinished business and I wasn’t about to leave without taking care of it. *** The whirlwind of activity that surrounded the benefit was gone. The press had departed, the equipment trucks had pulled out, and all the booths had been taken down. The only reminder that there’d been a few thousand people running around the farm was the trampled grass, the compacted earth of the fields, and the stage that still stood in the big meadow. In my absence, cleanup crews had whipped the place into shape. I had a little spare time for once, so I checked my email. There were a couple of messages from Hunter. One was written the day he’d returned home, thanking me and telling me what a wonderful experience it all was for him. The other was more recent, asking if I was really okay. He also told me that the Phantom chat

rooms were hopping. Fans were furious that I’d been shot and most of them were pointing a finger at the F.A.F., because of the recent remarks made by that group. Apparently, they were flooding the F.A.F. with emails and phone calls and there were even plans to picket their headquarters. I appreciated their support, but I was a little frightened that someone might get hurt. Also, there was as yet no proof that the F.A.F. had any connection to the shooting. Hunter also said there were lots of rumors that I was dead, but that most fans weren’t taking them too seriously since the evening news said I was alive and well. I emailed Hunter back, assuring him that I was truly okay. My arm was sore as hell and I tired very easily, but other than that I was fine. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. Getting shot had shaken me up and the thought that it could happen again made me uneasy, to say the least. There was also Mike—I half-feared he’d want me locked up for my own protection. I even got online and chatted with Hunter a little later on. It took a good while to assure him I was okay, even though I’d explained that in my email. When I finally convinced him I wasn’t about to perish, we talked about his hopes for finding a boyfriend, his plans for the holidays, and other normal stuff. It helped to set me at ease. I was glad I’d met Hunter online. I was also pleased that he’d calmed down and treated me as just another friend. Kieran hung around for just one more day. He’d intended to leave right after the concert, but he’d stayed

to make sure I was okay. Kieran meant a lot to me. I loved him like a brother. Ross stayed for two more days after that. I don’t know if he and Nick and Sean kept up their clandestine activities in the barn loft, but where that was concerned, ignorance was bliss. I had too much information about that already. I was worried about Ross. I wished he’d settle down and have a real relationship. I knew how hard that was for someone in our business, but I was doing it so he could too. Ross was a wild child, however, who might never grow up. I loved him dearly. *** When the guys were gone and it was just Ralph, Ethan, Nathan, Nick, Mike, me, and the extra security men on the farm, I got back to the business that had brought me to Verona—learning more about my dad. I was beyond lucky. I had in my possession my dad’s journal, as well as that of his boyfriend. The words they’d written revealed so much about their thoughts, feelings, and lives, but there was still more to learn. I guess never having known my dad gave me a deep-seated desire to get as close to him as I could. Ethan was like a father to me in many ways. He’d never replace my dad, and I didn’t want him to, but his presence in my life gave me something I’d been lacking. He was older and wiser and I never failed to listen when he had something serious to say. We had just such a talk not long after Ross and Kieran had

departed. Ethan asked Ralph and I to join him at the familiar kitchen table. Ralph made us all spearmint tea as Ethan spoke. “I don’t really like bringing this up, but with what’s been happening recently...I was wondering—do the two of you have wills?” “Uh, no,” I said. Ralph looked at me from where he stood in front of the stove and I could see the fear in his eyes. “It’s something you might want to think about. Nathan and I both have wills. We have joint ownership of the farm, but we have it fixed up all nice and legal that if one of us dies, the other inherits everything. If something happened to either you or Ralph, the survivor wouldn’t be entitled to anything. I know you’re in love, but the state won’t recognize that. Even if you were married, you’d still have the same problem.” I hadn’t thought about this at all. If I were killed, then Ralph would be left out in the cold. He had some money, but if I died, I wanted him to have everything. I loved him and I wanted to make sure he’d have plenty if something happened to me. I was so glad Ethan brought it up. “So a will would take care of that?” “Wills can be contested, but they usually hold. If both of you have wills, you should be set. I know it’s unpleasant to even think about such things, but it’s part

of loving someone. That’s why Nathan and I sat down and did it long ago.” “Thank you, Ethan. I’d never even thought about what would happen if one of us died.” “Most people don’t. You done with that tea yet, Ralph?” “Coming up,” said Ralph. We all sat and talked more over steaming cups of spearmint tea. Ethan recommended a lawyer right in town and Ralph and I decided to follow Ethan’s advice before we left Verona. Our talk then went on to more enjoyable topics. It felt so good just to sit in Ethan’s homey kitchen and enjoy a cup of tea without having to deal with the press. A few reporters were still showing up on the farm, but Mike kept them at bay. *** “You’re taking the limo,” said Mike. “It’s got bulletproof glass, it’s bomb proof, and the driver can get you out of a lot of bad situations. He’s specially trained for that.” “Mike, listen,” I pleaded, “I respect your opinion on security matters. I trust you with my life without reservation, but I can’t go cruising around Verona in a limo. I’ll stick out like a sore thumb.” “I’m only trying to protect you, Jordan.” “I know that, but...”

“Listen, I failed you at the concert. I’m not failing you again. You were very, very lucky you weren’t killed. The next time you may not be so fortunate.” “Mike, you did not fail me. There is nothing you or anyone else could’ve done to prevent what happened. I’m more than satisfied that you took every possible precaution for my safety and the safety of everyone else. The simple truth is that you can’t protect me from everything. If someone’s determined enough, they’re gonna get me.” “Don’t say that!” said Ralph. It was one of the rare occasions when I wished Ralph wasn’t there. I knew what I said scared him. I wanted to protect him from the possibility of losing me. I never really thought anyone would try to kill me, but now that it’d happened, I thought it might happen again. And, like Mike said, I might not be so lucky the next time. “I’m willing to live with any reasonable restriction you place on me,” I told Mike, “but don’t you think it’d be better if I was a little less conspicuous?” Mike’s stern expression made him look fatherly. I could imagine my dad standing there like that. “Here’s the deal,” said Mike. “We’ll keep the limo. When you go out, it goes out—empty, as a decoy. You’re switching rental cars before you go anywhere, and then again at least once every two days. You don’t go out without me—not under any circumstances. Understood?”

I nodded my head. Mike walked outside to make arrangements with his security team. The management company had agreed to his request for additional security. I guess they figured it would be hard to make money from concerts and future CD’s if I was dead. Ralph was at my side the moment Mike left. He hugged me. “I don’t want to lose you, Jordan.” He was on the verge of crying. “Hey, babe, you’re not gonna lose me, okay? I promise I’ll be good. Mike’ll watch over me like a hawk. It’s gonna be okay, you’ll see.” Ralph swallowed hard and nodded, but he didn’t look convinced. Now that the pain of getting shot was lessening, I think the worst thing about the whole situation was how it affected my life and the lives of those around me. I’d asked Ethan and Nathan if they wanted me to leave the farm, since my being there might make it unsafe. They wouldn’t hear of it. I imagined my dad would’ve been a lot like them—had he lived. *** I sat in the back of a huge Buick LaSabre—a smooth riding, luxury car, but not my idea of fun. At least I was finally getting to go out. Mike’s new security measures had kept me twiddling my thumbs for two days while

he arranged for another rental car, under a fictitious name. “You know, you could have rented a convertible or a jeep—somethin’ a little more, I dunno—me. This is like an...old people car.” “That’s the idea,” said Mike, who was riding shotgun (in this case a phrase that wasn’t too far from the truth). I want you to be as inconspicuous as possible. Who’d guess the Prince of Rock and Roll would be riding around in an old people car.” Mike laughed. “Shut up!” He knew I hated being called that. It was a nickname that I feared would follow me to the grave. Of course, in light of recent events, that might not be such a long trip. The driver remained silent. He was new, like the rest of security that now surrounded me. He probably didn’t know what to think about the banter between Mike and me. He was a trained chauffeur and never quite looked me in the eye. He was so formal I hadn’t even gotten his name yet. “Okay, this is it,” I said, as we pulled up in front of my dad’s old home just a few minutes later. “Dude, stay in the car,” I told Mike as he started to get out. “I need to check the interior.” “Lighten up, man. This is my grandparents’ place. I’m sure they’re not gonna jump me.” “What if someone else...”

“You want me to be inconspicuous, right? How am I gonna do that with my bodyguard trailing me? You don’t exactly blend in.” “Okay, but don’t even think of slipping away. Use the front door only.” “Are you my bodyguard, or my jailer?” I asked. Mike scowled. “I’m kidding! I’m kidding!” I said quickly. I exited the car before Mike had a chance to change his mind. He’d always watched over me closely, but now he was more paranoid then ever. I was just thankful he let me shower by myself. The door opened as I stepped onto the porch. My grandparents were expecting me. The moment I was inside, my grandmother was looking me over, as if checking for damage. “Are you okay, Jordan? I was so shocked when I saw what happened on the news, so worried!” “I’m fine. I got some stitches and I’m kinda sore, but I’m fine.” Grandmother looked upset. “It’s just that... We just now found out about you, and I thought we’d lost you. It was like...” “I know, Grandma, but I’m okay—really. They even caught the guy who did it.” I knew my grandmother was thinking back to long ago—to the day she’d lost her only son.

Grandma looked me over and smiled. “You know, I still can’t believe it. Taylor’s boy, our grandson, a rockstar.” I smiled shyly. “I’d rather just be thought of as your grandson.” “Oh, that’s how we think of you, of course. It’s just—shocking.” My grandfather sat there quietly, as if afraid to speak. I wasn’t quite sure what to say to him either. He was a stranger and yet we had quite a past, because he was my dad’s dad. He’d made my dad run away, the night he... But he was an old man now—pitiful and sad. The years had not been kind to him. We chatted about small events for half an hour or more—mostly grandmother and me. My grandfather nodded now and then, or grunted his agreement, but he said little. A silence filled the room for a while and my grandmother excused herself to prepare supper for us. They’d invited me to stay and I’d accepted. I knew that Grandma was leaving me alone with her husband for a reason—old wounds needed healing. “I guess you must hate me,” said Grandfather. “I don’t hate you.” “If it wasn’t for me...” His eyes grew watery, but he refused to cry. He was from an earlier generation, when men didn’t cry. “I know what happened,” I said. “There was a time when I was angry with you, but I’m not anymore. Maybe I even hated you, but that’s the past. This is the

present. You aren’t the same man now that you were then.” “I was ignorant,” he said. “Proud. I wanted Taylor to be a football star. I wanted my son to be a jock—strong and manly. When I found out about him... When I found out he was gay, I just couldn’t accept it. I knew it was true, but something inside me denied it. I’d feared it. Taylor was too sensitive, too kind and considerate. I wanted him on the football field, but he wanted to write poetry. Even when he took up soccer, it wasn’t enough for me. Soccer wasn’t manly enough. I should have been proud of him...and sometimes I was, but mostly I was disappointed that he didn’t live the life I wanted for him.” Grandfather paused, but I didn’t speak. He had a lot to get off his chest. I had a feeling that when he was talking to me, it was like he was talking to his son—to Taylor. I think he was saying things to me that he couldn’t say to my dad. “When I found out about him and that boy—Mark, I just couldn’t stand the thought of my son with another boy. To think of them together—kissing and doing...and having sex...it was just too much. I thought I could force him to be normal. I thought I could make him straight. I was tough on him, but I thought it was what he needed. He probably thought I hated him, but I didn’t. I loved him. I just couldn’t tell him that. That’s not what I thought he needed to hear. He needed to be tough and independent. I was afraid to show him how I felt, because I thought it’d make him more feminine. I

couldn’t stand the thought of that. There were times when I couldn’t stand the sight of him, but I never failed to love him.” “I think he knew that,” I said. “I think, deep down, he knew you loved him.” I wasn’t so sure that was the truth. I’d read dad’s journal. I think one of the main reasons he killed himself was that he thought his parents didn’t love him. There was no use in bringing that up now. It would only bring more pain, where there had already been far too much. “I don’t know about that. If he knew I loved him, maybe he wouldn’t have done what he did. I was so afraid—afraid of being known as the man with a gay son. I never stopped to think. I never considered how much worse things could get. I was afraid of being the man with a gay son, but that was far, far better than being the man with a dead son. I might as well have killed him myself.” My grandfather did cry then. Years of pent up anguish came out. I’d hated my grandfather, once upon a time. It was true, even though I only hinted at it to him. I’d hated him for how he’d treated my dad. I’d hated him because I blamed him for Dad’s death. Those feelings were long since gone. What remained of them disappeared as I watched the broken man before me shed tears for his lost son. What must it be like—to have a son and live to see him die? To know that you were largely responsible for his death? My grandfather cried pitifully. His actions had taken my father from

me, but I could hold no hatred in my heart for him. He’d already suffered enough. I moved from the chair where I was sitting and sat beside my grandfather. I put my hand on his shoulder and he turned to me. I pulled him to me and hugged him. He hugged me back, desperately clinging to me as the tears flowed. “I’m sorry...so sorry. I’m so sorry, Taylor. Please, forgive me. Forgive me!” I don’t know if he was speaking to his son, wherever he was, or if he forgot and thought I was Taylor for a few moments, but my heart went out to him. He ran his fingers through my hair and sobbed. “Taylor. Taylor, I miss you so! Forgive me. Forgive me!” “I forgive you,” I said. I had the strangest feeling as the words passed my lips. I was speaking them and I meant them—I forgave my grandfather for what he’d done. I had a queer, wondrous feeling, however, that it wasn’t just me speaking those words. I felt like my dad was speaking them, too. It was as if I could feel him inside me. I felt as if I were him and me all at once. It was like being touched by an angel. At that moment, sorrow was lifted from my heart. Grandfather looked into my eyes. I knew without doubt that he felt what I felt. He could feel the presence of my dad, too. I think those few moments did more to heal him than anything that had happened before. He could let go of the past now—let go of his mistakes. He

knew he was forgiven and had, perhaps, learned the lesson he was sent to this earth to learn. The ancient prejudice that had destroyed his life no longer held sway over him. I felt a sense of déjà vu as I sat at the kitchen table with my grandparents an hour or more later. I’d never sat down to supper with them before, of course, but I was sitting exactly where my dad had sat. I knew it must’ve been surreal for my grandparents. I knew from photos and the way people reacted to me, that I looked exactly like my dad. And, there I was, sitting where he’d sat, with his parents. I wondered how often they looked at me and thought of me as Taylor, rather than Jordan. Grandpa had cheered up considerably. There was no way he’d ever forget the death of my dad, or the events that led to it—no one ever forgets the loss of their child. I think I’d brought him peace, however, and for that I was glad. There was a time when I’d have never dreamed I’d be consoling the very man I most blamed for taking my father from me, but things had changed. I knew in my heart I was doing the right thing. My dad wouldn’t have wanted me to darken my heart with a grudge. Doing so wouldn’t bring him back; it would only harm me and my new found family. “There’s something we want you to have, a few things actually,” said my grandmother as we sat around the table over cups of tea and apple pie. She left the room for a few moments and then returned with a large box. I carefully opened it up. I felt

a sob crawling up my throat as I pulled out a blue and white soccer jersey and shorts. “That was Taylor’s soccer uniform,” said his mother. “He loved soccer more than anything.” I ran my fingers along it. My dad had worn this— he’d worn it playing so many games. He’d worn it the night he first made love to Mark—for a while at least. That thought made me grin. Most kids were uncomfortable thinking about their parents having sex, but it was different for me. My dad was only sixteen when he died. Thinking about him and Mark together was like thinking of Ralph and me. It wasn’t like thinking of old people doing it. I didn’t think about Dad and Mark doing it anyway. I thought about them loving each other. I pulled some old photos out of the box next. One was the picture I’d seen on my visit before, taken at a water park. There were Dad and Mark and their friends all smiling at me. What I would have given to be able to go back in time and spend the day with them all— especially my dad. If the two of us were together, everyone would’ve thought we were twins! There was a photo of my dad as a very little boy. Even then he had long, blond hair, although it reached not quite to his shoulders. He was wearing a soccer uniform in the photo, a kid-sized version of the one he’d wear later, only in green and yellow. The next photo also showed him in a soccer uniform, but it was the very one I’d just been given. It must have been taken not many weeks before my dad died. He was

standing by a soccer goal, holding a ball. He was smiling and happy, his sweaty hair sticking to his forehead. He was so alive. My heart leapt in my chest when I realized where he was standing. Even with the slightly blurry background, I knew—it was the very spot where he’d die. Sadness flowed over me, but I didn’t let it take a firm hold. I intended to remember my dad alive and happy, not lying dead on the soccer field. I wondered, however, why he chose to go there to die. Maybe it was because that’s where he was the happiest—on that field, playing soccer with Mark. There was a blue flannel shirt in the box, too. I knew it must be the one he’d worn when he stayed with Mark on Mark’s aunt’s farm. Touching dad’s old belongings made it all so real. In the very bottom of the box was an old notebook. I opened it to find it filled with poems. I’d read that Dad had written poetry; grandmother said it, too. Here they were, hand-written by my dad. I almost couldn’t believe it. I looked up to my grandparents. “Thank you so much!” I said, tears forming in my eyes. I got up and hugged them both. I stayed long in the house of my grandparents, in the house of my dad. There was so much of him there still. When I left, I felt as if I knew him better. I smiled at my newly found grandparents. Things had worked out better than I’d ever hoped. Nothing could bring my dad back, but I’d just gained the grandparents I’d never had before. From now on, they’d be a part of my life.

Ralph Ever since the shooting, I’d been jumpy. The only drawback to loving someone with all your heart is the fear of losing them. A little part of me was always afraid that Jordan would leave me—that he’d find someone better. I knew he loved me and I felt guilty for having even that little doubt, but I guess I just wasn’t secure enough to erase it. Now, I had a new fear. What if someone else tried to hurt Jordan? It’d happened once, so it could happen again. He was going to be just fine, but he could easily have been killed. Every time he left my sight, an irrational fear that I’d never see him again settled upon me. Every time he returned to my side, my happiness knew no bounds. Despite his recent brush with death, Jordan was happier than I’d ever seen him. He was getting to know his grandparents and I think it filled an empty place in his life. Nothing could ever make up for the absence of his father, but I think getting to know his dad’s parents helped ease that old pain. Jordan didn’t have much family so he valued family more than someone who’d had it all along. Despite having been on the farm for more than three weeks, we hadn’t had much time to spend with Nick and Sean. Nick adored Jordan, so much so I was a bit jealous at times, and Sean loved him nearly as much. We’d seen a lot of them, but there was so much

frenzied activity over the benefit that there hadn’t been time to sit down and talk. Jordan made it a point for us to spend some quiet time with them. We couldn’t easily leave the farm since all the world now knew Jordan was in Verona. Even if there had been no attempt upon his life, we couldn’t go out because we would’ve been mobbed. I’d been into town a time or two since the concerts and the population of Verona seemed to have exploded. Jordan and I walked among the quiet fields with Nick and his boyfriend. It was peaceful and beautiful, although it was quite cold. All of us were bundled up and thoughts of hot cocoa and Christmas were swirling around in my head. We talked of the upcoming tour and the recent attempt on Jordan’s life. We talked of many things less important, too. I sensed the conversation was about to turn as Nick tried to speak, but nervously tripped over his own words and had to start over. “Um...we, uh... Sean and I feel like we need to talk to you guys about somethin’,” Nick finally managed to get out. “Shoot,” said Jordan. “It’s about, well...what you guys heard in the barn.” “You don’t have to explain anything about that,” said Jordan. “That’s your business, not ours. In fact, I feel kind of guilty we overheard. Ralph and I didn’t mean to spy on you. We had no idea you were up there, but still...”

“Oh, I know,” said Nick. “I know you guys weren’t spying. You just kinda came into the barn at the wrong time.” Nick reddened with embarrassment. It was hard to tell since we all had rosy cheeks from the cold, but his entire face turned slightly pink. “We want to explain. I know we don’t have to, but your opinion of us matters and not just because you’re famous. I’ve come to think of you guys as friends.” “Me, too,” said Sean. Jordan smiled. I knew he liked that. Lots of people liked him just because he was a rock star, but what Nick was talking about was more real. “I think of you two as friends,” said Jordan. “So do I,” I said. “So, we wanna explain. I know Ross told you what we were doing. All three of us were together...you know. I’m just afraid that that’ll make you think we’re...I dunno...nasty or sluts or somethin’. Not that I mean Ross is! He’s really, really nice. Maybe we kinda did what we did with him because he was famous, but I really like him, too. He’s funny and sexy and... Well, you know. Anyway, Sean and me love each other lots, buckets full. We never cheat on each other and we’ve never done anything like that before. We just kinda wanted to try it, you know?” “I understand,” said Jordan. “And Ross, well...he’s way hot.” “He sure is,” said Sean. His tone of voice made me smile. He was clearly impressed with Ross.

“So, Ross seemed kinda interested in me, which totally blew me away, but he was too nice to do anything about it. Sean and me kinda got to talkin’ and then somehow I managed to get the courage to bring it up with Ross. How I had the balls to do it I still don’t know, but I did and then, later, we all got together. It was...well it was incredible!” “Hell, yeah!” said Sean. I nearly laughed this time. “We did it, like, a few times while he was here, but we’ve never done anything like that before and probably won’t again. We just didn’t want you to think we were...like sluts or something.” “We really, really love each other,” said Sean. “We’re not the kind of guys that cheat or anything like that. Nick and me discussed it. This was just something we wanted to try.” “Well,” said Jordan, “I want you guys to know that I respect you and I’m sure Ralph does, too.” I nodded my assent. “I can tell you love each other, just by looking. At first I thought that just Ross and Nick were up there, because Ralph and I didn’t stick around to listen. I was afraid that Nick was star struck with Ross and that maybe Ross had seduced him. I was angry because I thought Ross was messing up your relationship, but then Ross told me the truth, later.” “We did the seducing,” said Sean, “although it wasn’t real hard.” “I can imagine not, with two cuties like you,” I said. Nick and Sean smiled shyly.

“Yeah, like I’m cute!” said Sean. “Oh, you are, Sean,” said Jordan. “Yep,” I agreed. Sean grinned and looked away, pleased, but embarrassed. “We don’t want you thinking anything bad about Ross,” said Nick. “He was kinda concerned about it affecting our relationship, too, but we told him we’d talked it over and we wanted to do it.” “Okay,” said Jordan, “I understand.” “So you’re cool with it all? I mean, you don’t think we’re...bad or anything?” “I have a lot of respect for you guys,” said Jordan. “I think you’re mature and you think things through before doing them. Something like this thing with Ross could’ve caused problems, but you two discussed it and were open with each other, so it looks like everything is cool between you two. As for me being cool with it, well, what you did is definitely none of my business, but I don’t think badly of you in any way.” “Thanks,” said Nick and hugged Jordan. Sean did, too. I could tell his opinion meant a great deal to them. I was proud of Jordan, people like Nick and Sean looked up to him. “Okay,” said Jordan, clapping his hands together and rubbing them, “new topic! That last one included too much information.” “We could give you details,” said Sean, mischievously, “Ross likes to...”

“NO!” said Jordan, laughing. “That’s fine. We don’t need details. I think Ross has rubbed off on you.” “Oh, he did. He...” “Shut up, Sean!” said Jordan. “Nah, go on, Sean, I wanna hear,” I said. “Tell us all the good parts—you know, the stuff that would be underlined in a book.” “Don’t you start!” said Jordan. Sean and I laughed. It was fun to mess with Jordan. “So, what are you guys wanting for Christmas?” asked Jordan, desperately trying to change the topic. “How ‘bout another visit from Ross?” said Nick. “We could...” “You guys are just awful,” said Jordan, but he was grinning. We took pity on my poor boyfriend and started talking about what it would be nice to receive for Christmas. It felt good to be walking in the peace of the farm, with friends.

Jordan “No way!” said Mike. He almost screamed it in fact. “Come on, Mike,” I said, “this is something I really want to do.” “No.” “I want to buy toys for little kids, how can you be opposed to that?” I said, innocently, doing my best to look like a puppy. “You know that’s not it. You can’t go out into public like that. Need I remind you that you’re a rock star— and that someone recently tried to kill you?” “I know, I know.” I dropped heavily into a chair by the kitchen table. Sometimes being famous sucked ass. “There’s gotta be a way,” I said. The idea of going out and buying a shit-load of toys had popped into my head when I watched the local news and saw that local charities collecting toys for kids were way behind. There were a lot of needy kids that weren’t going to be getting anything for Christmas if someone didn’t do something. One cool thing about being famous is that I had more money than I could spend. The world was filled with problems I couldn’t do anything about, but I could solve this one single-handed. Besides, it would be a ton of fun. “Why don’t we call the manager of one of the big toy stores in South Bend?” suggested Ethan. “I imagine

they’d let you in after closing hours since you’ll be buying a lot of stuff.” “You’re a genius, Ethan! What do you think, Mike?” “That’s doable. We can secure a closed store easily enough.” “Gotta phone book?” I asked Ethan. He pitched me one. I pulled out my cell phone and walked into the living room. I dialed up a place called Warehouse of Toys. I’d never heard of it, but, according to the ad, it was supposed to be huge. I had extreme difficulty convincing the manager I was for real and that I was who I said. Finally, I had to give him the number of my management company. I called them while he was checking me out to make sure he could get through to the right people. I called him back a few minutes later and he seemed a bit shaken that I was for real. He was really cool, though. He even said that since it was all going to charity, he’d give me 10% off everything. The very next night, at 11 p.m., we pulled up to Warehouse of Toys in several cars. Ralph was with me, of course, as were Nick, Sean, Ethan, Nathan, Brendan, Casper, and Sean’s cousin, Avery, who I’d met at Graymoor. There were also three boys I didn’t know. One was Sean’s friend, Marshall, and the others Avery introduced as his friends Shane and Matt. “Whoa, you aren’t kidding around,” said Sean. Two empty tractor-trailers sat waiting, backed up near the entrance to the store, as well as a smaller panel

truck. The last would be heading for Reverend Gerard’s church in Verona. I’d found out they did a lot of work helping the poor, especially around Christmas. The manager shook my hand as we went in. I handed him my credit card so he could check it out and make sure there were no problems. I told them I’d already talked to the credit card company and they were expecting a huge charge from his store. “I’ve never seen this place empty before,” said Nick. We were the only people in the whole store, except for the manager and six check out guys. Christmas music was playing on the loud speakers and decorations were everywhere. I smiled. This was one time I could go shopping and not be bothered by anyone. I was hyped. I couldn’t wait to get started. “Okay, everyone, here’s the drill. Go through and pick out whatever you think kids would like for Christmas, which shouldn’t be too hard since we’re in a toy store. Make sure you get things for all ages. Some of the kids we’re buying for are little more than babies and some are in high school. When you get a cart filled up, run it through the checkout, and then take it out to the trucks. There are guys out there that will load it. We’ll have to keep moving, we’ve got three trucks to fill.” “You want us to, like, pick out expensive stuff, too, or should we...” began Shane, one of Avery’s friends.

“Don’t worry about the price, it doesn’t matter. If you think some kid’ll like it, get it. Any questions?” I looked around. “Okay, then, let’s go!” It was a blast. I’d always dreamed of doing something like that and finally I could. A lot of people might think I was incredibly generous doing what I was doing, but I felt almost selfish as I gleefully went down the aisles, piling things into my cart. It was like being a little kid again—yearning for some special toy—only this time I could buy whatever I wanted. I could buy it all. It was a dream come true. I knew the kids who received the toys would love them, but I really think I got the better end of the deal. I loved Christmas, so I hit the seasonal aisle first. There were all kinds of stuffed toys from the Rudolf The Red Nosed Reindeer special that had been on TV every year for forever. I loaded up my cart with Rudolf, Santa Claus, Hermie, Yukon Cornelius, and Abominable Snowman toys. It was only the beginning. “Peanuts!” I shouted out-loud, to no one in particular. If there was one holiday special I loved even more than Rudolph, it was A Charlie Brown Christmas. I started in on Peanuts toys, but had barely begun before my cart was full. I zipped through the checkout, took my cart to the truck, and grabbed an empty one. It was a ton of fun going through that huge toy store, grabbing up everything in sight. I bought bunches of board games, whole carts full of stuffed animals, loads of kid’s

books, and cart after cart of sports equipment. I felt like it was Christmas already. Everyone else was having a blast, too. Nick giggled when he passed me with an entire cart full of Phantom merchandise. I shook my head, smiled, and headed for the doll aisle. I wanted to make sure the girls weren’t left out. The manager’s eyes were practically bulging out of his head. I was sure we’d probably set a new sales record for him. He looked almost as astonished at the amount of toys we were buying as he had when he brought my credit card back to me. I almost laughed out loud when he said, “I’ve never seen a credit card before that doesn’t have a limit.” It takes a lot longer to fill a truck with toys than you’d imagine. The guys doing the loading were instructed to pack in as much as they possibly could. They were doing a good job, too. I took a quick look on one of my many trips out to the parking lot and they were stacking stuff right up to the roof. We kept going and going and going, which reminded me to buy a bunch of batteries for all the toys that needed them. There was nothing worse than getting a cool toy for Christmas, only to discover there are no batteries for it. It was the wee hours of the morning before we finally had the trucks loaded. All of us were exhausted, but happy. We hadn’t quite cleaned the place out, but Warehouse of Toys was in serious need of restocking by the time we left. Before the end, we were actually

taking cases of toys out on a forklift. The store employees seemed to have just as much fun as the rest of us. Before we left, I gave each of them, including the manager, five $100 bills as a Christmas present and as a “thank you” for working all night long. I gave the same to the guys who worked so hard loading the trucks, plus another $500 each because they had to stay out in the cold. We drove back to the farm and Ethan and Nathan, aided by the rest of us, cooked a huge breakfast for everyone. I was famished. I scarfed down biscuits and gravy, sausage, bacon, and pancakes dripping in maple syrup. There wasn’t a lot of talking at the table. We were too busy eating. Besides, we were ready to drop, at least that’s how I felt. We left the cleaning up for later and all of us went to bed, or home. It felt so good to settle into the thick warm comforters next to Ralph. We were both asleep almost as soon as we’d said goodnight. *** I got up late the next morning, or really the same morning. Ralph was still sleeping away beside me. I just lay there looking at him for a few moments, thinking how much I loved him. He’d made my life complete. I’m sure a lot of people thought I had it all, but I really had nothing before Ralph. Fame and wealth really don’t mean much when you’re alone. I reached out and caressed his face. I leaned over and kissed his

cheek, and then slipped out of bed without disturbing him. Ethan was in the kitchen. The mess we’d left the night before was gone. I wondered how long he’d been up. He seemed tireless. “What would you like for breakfast?” he asked. “I don’t want to be any trouble.” ‘You’re no trouble. How about French toast? I was thinking of some myself.” “Mmmm, that sounds good.” “French toast it is then.” “Can I help?” “You can fry the bacon.” I loved being with Ethan. His relationship with Nathan gave me hope for the future. They’d been together since they were teenagers. A lot of people said gay relationships were fleeting, but what I was seeing didn’t match that notion. Brendan and Casper had been together about as long as Ethan and Nathan. I bet a lot of other couples lasted, too. I sure planned to stick with Ralph for the rest of my life. I was even beginning to think of us getting married. “Ethan, are you and Nathan married? If it’s none of my business, just say so, but I’m curious.” “We’re not officially married. We’ve never seen a reason for that. We’re the same as married, however. We made a commitment to each other. There was no

ceremony, it was just us, but we consider ourselves married in the eyes of God, and that’s all that matters.” I smiled. Those guys made me feel so good. Just being around them made me feel safe and secure. The phone rang and Ethan answered while I took over the French toast. “Yes, he’s here,” said Ethan. I wondered if it was another fan calling. There’d been a lot of calls since it was known I was on the farm. There were a lot of visitors, too. It was a good thing Mike had set up security to keep people out, or the farm would’ve been overrun with fans and reporters. As it was, I knew we’d have to go soon so the Selbys could have some peace. Our presence was disrupting things, and not just on the farm—the whole town of Verona seemed inundated with fans. It was crazy. I’m sure the businesses didn’t mind, but I wondered if the residents didn’t just wish we’d go away. “It’s your grandmother.” I smiled. I loved hearing that. It was odd—I’d only known my grandmother for a short time, but I really cared for her. It was almost like she’d been in my life forever. I wished she had been. “Grandma? Hey.” “Jordan, how are you? How’s your shoulder?” “I’m great, Grandma, and my shoulder’s coming along.” “I talked to Mark’s mother.”

“Yeah?” I’d asked my grandmother to get in touch with Mark’s mom. I wanted to talk to her, but I didn’t feel right just showing up on her doorstep. I wasn’t her grandson, after all, although I kind of felt like I was. I felt like I was almost as much Mark’s son as I was Taylor’s. “ She doesn’t want to see you. I’m sorry.” “Oh.” Ethan looked up from the frying pan. I couldn’t hide the disappointment in my voice. “She’s had a hard time dealing with the loss of her boy, Jordan. Even after all these years, she doesn’t want to talk about it. She’d barely speak to me. She said she’d seen you on TV. I think the fact that you look so much like Taylor is just too much for her.” “What about Mr. Bailey, Mark’s dad?” “I should have told you this before, Jordan, but I thought it best you hear the details from Mrs. Bailey. But, since she won’t see you, I’ll tell you—Mr. Bailey is dead. He killed himself not long after Mark’s suicide. He blamed himself for it. He said so in a suicide note.” “Oh.” I felt a knot in my throat. Would this tragedy never end? “I’m sorry, Jordan.” “Thanks for trying, Grandma. I love you.” “I love you, too, Jordan.” I hung up the phone. “Are you okay?” asked Ethan.

“I will be. Mrs. Bailey doesn’t want to see me.” “I can’t say I’m terribly surprised. That woman has aged fifty years in the last eighteen.” “Mr. Bailey’s dead. He killed himself.” “Yeah, I know. It happened about two months after Mark and your dad died. He even killed himself with the very same gun Mark used—his gun. When Mark was alive, his dad was pretty horrible to him. He’s the one who outed Mark and Tay. He’s the one who started the whole, sorry mess. I think he finally came to realize that—only too late. It took the loss of his son to make him see what he’d done.” “It’s almost unbelievable how many lives were affected when Dad and Mark killed themselves,” I said quietly. “It’s like...it’s like they were part of a house of cards and when they were pulled out, the whole thing came down.” “Yes,” said Ethan. “I think a lot of people in Verona realized just what they’d done—after it was too late. This whole town had blood-stains on its hands and everyone knew it.” “Not the whole town.” “Pretty close.” “Not you.” “Even me,” said Ethan. “I’ve come to grips with the boy I was back then. I know I had my reasons for not being more supportive of Tay and Mark, but the simple

truth is that maybe, just maybe, they’d still be alive if I’d have gotten in there and fought for them like mad.” “Ethan, you don’t know that.” “True. We never get to know about the if only’s in life, but I do know I could’ve made things better for them than I did.” “You did plenty,” I said. “I know Dad would tell you the same.” Ethan gazed at me, as if there were something he wanted to tell me, but he withheld his thoughts. “I just wish Mark’s mom would have seen me. It kind of makes me feel...I dunno—abandoned.” Ethan stopped what he was doing and hugged me. “You were never abandoned, Jordan. If your dad would have known about you, I’m sure he would’ve stuck around. I’m sure he’s very proud of you.” I smiled through watery eyes. “I guess I shouldn’t let this get me down. When I came here, I never dreamed things would go so well with my grandparents.” “I’m a little surprised myself.” “I know what they did was wrong. I know they hurt my dad, but after seeing them and talking to them, I just couldn’t hold a grudge.” “I don’t think your dad would want you to. Things change—people change. Your grandparents aren’t the same people they were all those years ago—none of us are.”

“Yeah, that’s sure true. I just wish... Well, you know. I just wish they could’ve been like they are now back then. Maybe then my dad would still be alive.” “I know, Jordan, but sometimes lessons have to be learned the hard way.” “Yeah, it’s just too bad we all had to pay the price for this one.” “I know, Jordan, I know.” Ethan hugged me tightly. I knew he was missing my dad—and Mark.

Ralph All too soon it was time to leave. Neither Jordan nor I really wanted to go, but the whole world knew we were in Verona. We couldn’t even leave the farm without some major diversion. I was very nervous about Jordan appearing anywhere in public. I didn’t even feel too at ease about him going outside. Mike had been keeping tabs on the guy that had attacked Jordan. He was some kind of religious fanatic that seemed to think all gays should be killed. I was relieved to know he was refused bail. I had little doubt he’d have gone straight for Jordan again if he got out. Mike suspected that Jordan was still in danger. We’d stirred up a lot of opposition when we set out to raise money for gay youth centers. It was unreal how anti-gay some people were—they were actually upset that we were trying to help kids. Ethan, Nathan, and Nick all hugged us goodbye. They were like family. I felt a tug at my heart leaving them, but I knew I’d see them all again. We’d grown too close to allow ourselves to drift apart. When things cooled down, we’d be back, but for now we needed to get away from Verona and the farm. Even though it was winter, Ethan and Nathan had work to do and I know it was hard for them to get anything done with us, and particularly the security that surrounded us, on the farm. Our next destination was our cabin in southern Indiana. Jordan and I were both eager to finally see it.

There was no way we could just slip away from Verona, so we climbed into the big limo and headed for South Bend. I felt safer traveling that way, even though anyone after Jordan would know exactly where he was. The limo was bullet proof and even bomb proof. I kind of wished we could just stay in it. “Some friendly reporters are going to leak that you’re heading back to L.A.,” said Mike. “The best thing right now is for you to just disappear. Whoever is after you will find out you’re not in Los Angeles quickly enough, but by then it will be too late to track you.” I noted how Mike stated that someone was after Jordan as a fact and not just a possibility. “Couldn’t someone track our movements through airline records?” I asked. Mike glanced at me with a look of respect. “Yes, that’s why we’re not taking a commercial flight. I’ve arranged for a private jet with the management company.” Mike had really stepped into high gear. He’d always been Mr. Security, but I was amazed at how he was handling things now. He was definitely a take-charge kind of guy. I felt safe with him around. I knew he’d do anything to protect Jordan. I was willing to bet he could take out a gunman barehanded. He’d probably been a Navy Seal or something like that. Jordan was frowning as he looked out the window. I reached out and touched his knee. He turned to me and smiled sadly.

“All I wanted to do is make music,” he said. “When did everything become so complicated? I wish I wasn’t famous. I wish me and the guys could just play little clubs and events, you know? I wish we could just perform for a few people and not have to deal with all this.” “I’m afraid you’ve gone way beyond that, Jordan. It’s the price of fame.” “Well, the price sucks!” he yelled. Then he looked suddenly remorseful. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to yell at you guys.” “It’s okay, Babe,” I said to him. “We understand. I know it’s hard. Just think of what you’ve been able to do. Think of all that money you raised. That’s gonna help a lot of kids. And think of all those toys you bought for poor kids. You couldn’t do that stuff if you weren’t famous.” “I know. I’m sorry. I guess I’m just feeling sorry for myself. I’m being a whiny little jerk.” “No, you’re not,” said Mike. “I don’t see how you guys do it. I sure wouldn’t want to trade places with you.” “Aww, you’re just saying that because someone’s trying to kill me.” “Don’t joke about that!” I nearly cried. “It’s not funny!” “I’m sorry. Oh, and about what you said about me raising money? That wasn’t just me, it was all of us.”

“Yeah, I know, but it wouldn’t have happened without you.” “You aren’t very objective there, are you Ralph?” Jordan grinned slightly. “Hell, no! I don’t have to be. I’m your boyfriend.” Jordan closed his eyes and smiled, making an “mmmm” sound that filled my heart with love. I wondered if someday we’d be able to just settle down, away from the crowds, and be together. That might never happen, but it was a nice dream. At least we could have a little bit of that at our cabin.

Jordan Ralph’s dad handed us the key and we drove the two miles or so to our cabin. Neither Ralph nor I had been out to our little piece of property since we’d purchased it. We’d not set eyes on our cabin, or even seen pictures of it. We were in contact with the builders when they were reconstructing it. We gave them a lot of specific instructions on what we wanted, but the actual cabin would no doubt be a surprise. I turned onto the gravel drive on the edge of our property and stopped. The drive went nearly all the way back to the cabin, but I wanted to walk to it the first time. Snow was falling gently as Ralph and I stepped out of the car. Thankfully, Mike was willing to do his guarding from a bit of a distance. I guess he was satisfied that we’d successfully slipped away, at least for the time being. I was glad we were all bundled up. It was somewhere in the low to mid-20’s and a gentle breeze made it seem even colder. Winter had come at last. Ralph had rosy cheeks in mere moments, and I felt Jack Frost nipping at my nose. I wished he’d cut it out. We walked up the drive, the snow crunching under our feet. There was a good two inches on the ground, covering everything in a blanket of sparkling white. In just a few moments, our little cabin came into view. We stopped and just admired it. It was beautiful.

The weathered logs made it appear that the cabin had sat there forever, instead of mere months. It had one room and was no more than eighteen feet square. Snow covered most of the green tin roof, making the cabin look all comfy and cozy. The cold was seeping through our coats, so Ralph and I walked around to the front porch, fitted key to lock, and opened the door. The interior was even more charming than the exterior. Our first priority was to get a fire going. It seemed colder inside the cabin than without, except there was no wind. There was a little Warm Morning stove in the southwest corner of the cabin, with a stack of wood in front of it. “I’ll get a fire going,” said Ralph. He opened the stove door to find it all set to go. “Dad thought of everything,” said Ralph. He took out some matches, which he’d wisely brought along, and lit the fire. The twigs and kindling caught quickly and soon a warm fire was blazing away. It began to feel warmer almost immediately, but we kept our coats on. With the fire going, we took time to look around. In the southeast corner sat the huge step-back cupboard I’d purchased in the little antique shop in Verona. Near it was the turn-of-the-century oak kitchen table with lion’s paw feet and a couple of old hunter green chairs we’d had shipped from Oklahoma. Close to the stove was the old pine settle Ralph and I had discovered while we were in Virginia. It was an unusual piece, kind of like a bench with arms and a tall back. When I’d read the price tag in the shop, I thought it said

“settee”, but it was “settle.” I didn’t know nearly enough about antiques. Other than the few pieces of furniture, the cabin was mostly empty. I wanted to go shopping while we were in southern Indiana. Our cabin needed a bed, a comfy chair, and a lot of little things to make it all homey. “Let’s get the stuff from the car,” said Ralph. We walked back through the falling snow and grabbed some things from the trunk and backseat. Mike helped us carry everything in. There were pillows, sheets, and blankets; a big piece of foam rubber we could use for a makeshift bed; candles and candleholders; an old oil lamp; a big box of food; a box filled with Christmas ornaments and decorations; and a few other oddments. It took us a few trips to lug it all in, but it helped to warm us up. By the time we were done, we pulled off our coats and hung them by the stove. The cabin was getting nice and toasty. A feeling of contentment came over me as we were putting things away. Our cabin was small and primitive, but it was ours. Ralph and I had never had a place to call home together. We’d lived in fancy hotels, the tour bus, and a nice rented house, but we’d never been anywhere that was truly ours. “How about some hot tea?” asked Ralph. “That’s a great idea.” Ralph walked out and filled a kettle with water at a hydrant near the cabin. It was our only source of water for the time being. He set the kettle on the stove while I

pulled out mugs and got everything ready. We busied ourselves about the cabin until the kettle began to stir, then Ralph made us steaming cups of English Breakfast tea. We sat at the table and enjoyed the warmth while the wind whipped the snow around outside. Mike was right there with us, but he was in invisible mode. He drank tea quietly as he sat on the settle near the stove, reading a newspaper, pretending he wasn’t there. “After we finish this, what do you say we go out and find ourselves a Christmas tree?” I asked. “Tomorrow is Christmas Eve after all.” “Great idea,” said Ralph. I loved sitting there in our little cabin. It had a beautiful view of snow-covered pine trees through the window. I felt like I could sit and watch the falling snow all day. The door had a big window in it, too. It faced the woods, which was just beyond the front porch. The setting was nearly idyllic. We were eager to find ourselves a tree, so we bundled up once more and headed out into the swirling snow, warmed from the inside by hot tea. Mike trailed us at a distance. “This is sure different from last year,” laughed Ralph. “Yeah, pine trees and snow, instead of palms and beaches.” “I love L.A., but there’s nothin’ like Christmas in Indiana.”

I agreed with Ralph completely. I was a huge fan of warm weather, but in December falling snow and freezing temperatures just seemed right. I didn’t mind that a chill was seeping up under my coat, or that my cheeks were growing numb. It was all part of the experience. “Hey, that looks like a good one,” said Ralph. We walked closer to the pine he’d pointed out and paced around it. “What d’ya think?” I asked. “It’s a little sparse in some places and not shaped exactly right, but who cares? It doesn’t have to be perfect. It’s not like Martha Stewart will be dropping by to check on our decorations.” “Well, if she does, she can help,” I said. “I like this one.” “Stand back then.” Ralph chopped down the tree in no time at all. Together, we shook the snow off it and pulled it back toward the cabin. Mike busied himself setting up a small tent near the cabin. We told him he could stay with us, but he assured us he’d be just as warm in the tent. He’d brought a portable heater that ran on gas and all his camping gear. Mike knew all about survival techniques and stuff, so I had little doubt he’d be comfy enough. I was thankful Ralph and I could be alone. “You know, we should plant a lot of pine here,” I said as we pulled the tree into the cabin. “That way we

can have a Christmas tree every year right off our own property.” “Sounds good,” said Ralph. I luxuriated in the warmth of the cabin when we’d pulled the tree inside. Something about the snow and wind outside made it seem all the more cozy inside. I loved watching the falling snow. It just kept coming down, covering everything in soft white. “Oh! We have to make a snowman later!” I said. Ralph smiled. In just a few minutes’ time, the tree was set up. It looked quite a bit bigger than it had outside. It was almost too big. We pulled out the lights and wrapped them around the tree. It was getting a little dark in the cabin, so the lights shone beautifully when we plugged them in. One thing we didn’t have yet was an electric lamp, so the only light came from the tree, candles, and the oil lamp. I didn’t mind at all. It was romantic. Ralph’s mom had given us a bunch of old ornaments. We pulled them out one by one and put them on the tree. I loved decorating Christmas trees. It was just so...Christmassy. “I remember this one,” said Ralph, smiling. He was holding a little Santa, made out of a red bulb with a smaller, pinkish one for the face. The Santa had a little coat and the traditional cap made out of red felt. “Mom got this for me ages ago.”

That’s something I’d always loved about Christmas—tradition. Every Christmas was filled with memories of all the ones before. I can’t exactly explain it, but Christmas felt like coming home again. It didn’t matter where I was—in Los Angeles, in some hotel somewhere, or in our little cabin—it was just the same. Christmas made me feel...connected with what had gone before. I smiled. This whole trip had been about getting connected with my past. I’d made peace with my grandparents. For the first time in a long time, I felt like I had family. Of course, I did have my mom. Even though I didn’t see her much, we still cared about each other. And then there was Ross and Kieran. They were family, too. I couldn’t forget Ethan, Nathan, and Nick, either. And, of course, there was Ralph, who I loved with all my heart. He was my boyfriend and my most important family of all. Little by little, our Christmas tree took shape. Soon, all it needed was tinsel. Ralph dug some out of the box and we put it on the tree, just a few strands at a time. “You know how Ross’d do this, don’t you?” I asked. “He’d dump it all on in one big blob,” said Ralph, laughing. Ross could crack us up, even when he wasn’t there. When we’d finished, the tree was covered with all kinds of ornaments: Santas, Angels, stars, reindeer, snowmen, and many more. The whole tree glowed with multicolored lights and twinkling tinsel. The darkness

had deepened outside and the tree looked especially beautiful in the candlelight. “I don’t think there’s anything more beautiful than a Christmas tree,” I said. “Except for you.” “Stop it!” I said, giggling. “You are totally cute when you get embarrassed,” said Ralph. I just knew I was turning red. Like most people, I couldn’t handle compliments. “Knock it off, or no Christmas presents for you!” I threatened. “Oh, let’s put them around the tree.” Ralph and I had left all the presents we brought for his parents and his friends at his parent’s farmhouse, but we brought the ones we’d gotten for each other to the cabin. We set them out under the tree. “It looks even better now,” I said. “Yeah, I like presents. There’s something mysterious about them.” “Not knowing what’s inside makes it all exciting,” I said. “I mean, you could wrap up a Hershey bar or a bag of marshmallows or something and it’d still be special because it was a Christmas gift.” “Oh great!” said Ralph loudly with a tone of disgust in his voice. “What?”

“You guessed what I bought you!” I grinned. “You’ve been hanging around Ross too much!” “Not as much as Nick and Sean,” said Ralph, “but let’s not go there.” “I wonder what’s in the box that Ethan gave me,” I said. “I’ve been wondering about that myself,” said Ralph. He picked it up and shook it. It was about a foot square, wrapped in red paper with reindeer on it. A green bow was on the top. “Hmm, it’s not real heavy, but not light enough to be a shirt or something. I wish he’d have given us a hint.” “At least I get to open it on Christmas Eve,” I said. “Yep. It won’t be long now.” “You know,” said Ralph, “we have a tradition that everyone gets to open one present early. How ‘bout we do that now?” “I think that’s an astonishingly good idea, Ralph,” I said with mock seriousness. “Let’s see.” I bent down and looked under the tree, deciding which present I wanted Ralph to open. “Here, Happy Early Christmas, Ralph.” Ralph eagerly tore away the Poinsettia covered wrapping to reveal a gray fleece jacket. “Ohh, I love these. They are so comfortable and warm. It’s just the thing to wear around here too!” Ralph hugged me, then rooted around among the

packages. “Here ya go. Merry Early Christmas, Jordan.” Ralph handed me a box wrapped in blue paper with little teddy bears on it. I was so excited I felt like a little kid again. In the box was a pair of moccasin house shoes—the kind that are all wooly inside. “I’m putting these on right now,” I said. “Thanks, Ralph.” We hugged again. “You’re funny,” said Ralph. “What do you mean?” “I don’t mean it in a bad way, but like...you’ve got everything, you’re rich, and you still get all excited over house shoes.” “Well, I like them! You pick out good presents! Besides, they’re special because they came from you. You could give me a roll of toilet paper and it would be special because you gave it to me.” “You did it again! How’d you know I bought you toilet paper?” “You’ve definitely been around Ross too much,” I said. “Maybe, but I’m sure he’d have much more to say about it.” Ralph drew close to me and gazed into my eyes. He ran his hand down over my chest. “You know what I really want right now, Jordan,” he said, running his hand slowly over my abs, lower and lower.

“What?” I said, swallowing hard, and breathing a little harder, too. Ralph inched his face toward mine until our lips were nearly touching. “Some hot cocoa,” he said, and then giggled. I shook my head, laughing. “You’re terrible! I thought...” “I know what you thought, big boy.” “Okay, we’ll have some hot cocoa now, but there’s something I want later, and you’d better provide.” “Cookies?” asked Ralph, pretending to be clueless. “I want us both to get our cookies,” I said, kissing him. “I’m sure we will.” In a few minutes we were snuggled up by the fire, sitting on our makeshift bed, sipping hot cocoa while we gazed at our tree. I was completely content. I’d traveled all over the world. I’d had crowds of people go nuts over me. I made so much money I could buy or do anything I wanted. And yet, none of that compared with sitting by Ralph’s side, admiring the Christmas tree we’d decorated ourselves. That was what life was about, enjoying something simple. Fame and wealth meant nothing, if you could enjoy the little things. I felt very rich at that moment and it had nothing to do with my money. I felt wealthy because God had given me the ability to enjoy things that too many others took for granted. Sitting there, I forgot all about the troubles in

my life. I even forgot that there might be someone out there who planned to kill me.

Ralph I awakened to a great chill. The fire was reduced to mere embers, despite the fact that Jordan and I had put wood in the stove three times during the night. I crawled out from the warm blankets, added more wood, and then slipped back in beside Jordan. I snuggled up against him. His slim, naked body radiated warmth as if a fire burned within him. Jordan stirred, opened his eyes, and smiled at me. We wrapped our arms around each other and enjoyed the closeness and warmth. Jordan’s skin felt so silky and warm. His firm body against mine aroused me and Jordan’s own arousal was no secret. I pressed my lips to his and kissed him lightly, then deeply. Jordan responded and we made love in our little cabin in the woods. Nearly an hour later, we lay in each other’s arms, completely relaxed, all tension gone from our bodies. I couldn’t imagine how I’d survived without Jordan. Our physical relationship was far less important than the emotional, and yet the physical side alone was something I didn’t think I could do without. I remembered all too well the days before I’d met Jordan. My body was racked with intense physical needs that were not fulfilled. Hormones surged through me, driving me insane with the need for sex. Even after Jordan and I met, it was months before we did more

than kiss. It was maddening and wonderful at the same time. It was like endless foreplay, building to the final explosion when we made love at last. For a long time now, we hadn’t gone for more than a couple of days without making love. Each time was like the first, filled with wonder and awe. It was much more than mere physical pleasure, however, it was a joining of our souls. Whenever Jordan and I made love, I felt like we became one. It was late morning when we finally got out of bed. There was no hurry. We had all day with nothing to do. That evening, we’d be sitting by the tree opening presents, but the rest of the day was free for whatever we wanted to do. *** The shadows lengthened into darkness, even though it was only a little after six. Jordan and I had been anticipating opening our gifts all day as if we were children. There was quite a stack of them. Both of us loved buying presents. I kept finding things for Jordan. They weren’t expensive, for the most part, just little things that I knew he’d love. We sat down on our makeshift bed, which was covered with an old comforter and now pulled close to the tree. We sipped hot cocoa from mugs and reveled in the warmth provided by the stove. Snow was falling outside again, covering the pines with a blanket of

white. Inside our little cabin, the tree had filled the air with the scent of pine. I felt like I was inside a Christmas card. I handed Jordan a very small and light package wrapped in bright red and green striped paper. He ripped the paper away to find a pair of silk boxer shorts. They were black with shiny, metallic hearts all over them. “Those are kind of a gift for us both,” I said. “You get to wear them and I get to see you in them.” I grinned mischievously. “Don’t get me started or we’ll have to do something else besides open gifts,” said Jordan. Hearing him say that almost made me want to do just that. My thoughts returned momentarily to our lovemaking of that morning. Jordan handed me a large box, wrapped in green paper decorated with pinecones and pine needles. I opened it and pulled out a large teddy bear. He looked kinda old fashioned and was wearing a red scarf and a red knit cap. He was so cute. “He’s wonderful!” A teddy bear from Jordan was so special. It was the kind of gift that boyfriends give each other. It was a gift of love. There were many more gifts to come: sweaters for our winter days in Indiana, swim-suits for southern California, CD’s, books, and more. Jordan got me a loaded laptop computer. My eyes about popped out when I opened it.

“I thought it would be great for the next tour,” he said. “You can do email and keep ebooks and games and stuff on it.” “This is too much, Jordan.” “No way! Besides, it has business uses. You can keep track of meet and greets and all that kind of stuff, too.” Jordan opened another one of my gifts. It was a black leather jacket with matching black leather pants. “Ralph, you shouldn’t have spent this much on me.” “You bought me a laptop, remember? Besides, I have a real good job, you know? I made a lot of money working for this rock band.” Jordan laughed. “And, hey, I know how to find bargains! I got those 50% off!” “I’m wearing these pants during the next concert, and the jacket the next time we go outside!” A lot of the gifts we gave each other weren’t expensive at all, like the box of chocolate turtles I got for Jordan or the chocolate covered cherries or Lord of the Rings calendar he got me. “Hey, why don’t you open the gift from Ethan now,” I suggested. Jordan pulled the present from under the tree. He slowly unwrapped it. He reached inside the box and pulled out a threadbare stuffed rabbit and an old notebook. He set the rabbit to the side for a moment and opened the notebook. Jordan covered his mouth with his hand and tears filled his eyes. I drew closer and he looked up at me.

“It’s my dad’s journal,” said Jordan. “It’s the original. The one he wrote himself.” “He must have got it from Sean,” I said. “I can’t believe he gave me this!” said Jordan. “I know what it must have meant to him!” Jordan turned the pages. Each was filled with writing in a neat hand. While he was looking at it, I picked up a small envelope that had been pulled out of the box with the rabbit. “You mind?” I asked, holding it up. “No, go ahead. Tell me what it says.” I read it out loud. I’m sure the journal speaks for itself, but you may not understand why I’ve given you the rabbit. It was your father’s. It was his favorite toy when he was a little boy and he kept it near him always, until he gave it to his boyfriend. Just before he died, Mark sent it to me as a Christmas gift. I had to wait for nearly two months to open it, so your wait hasn’t been nearly as long. Taylor’s rabbit has always been very special to me, but I know it will mean even more to you. Merry Christmas, Ethan.

Jordan picked up the rabbit and gazed at it. “This was my dad’s,” he said. He ran his hand over it, petting it. A tear ran down his cheek, but he was happy. “This is the best Christmas present ever. Not that I don’t like what you got me,” he added quickly. “I understand, Jordan,” I said, smiling. Together we looked through Taylor’s journal, as Jordan held his dad’s rabbit. We’d read the journal before, of course, but actually seeing it in Taylor’s handwriting made us both feel like we were closer to him than ever. I could only guess how important that was to Jordan. Later, we sat under the tree, our arms around each other’s waists. “So, what’s your favorite present?” asked Jordan. “Well, that’s a kick-ass laptop you got me, but I like the teddy bear most of all. When I look at it, I just think Jordan Loves Me.” “I sure do!” “What’s your favorite, out of the ones I got you?” “That’s a tough one. I love everything! Probably the leather pants, but I’m awful fond of those boxers.” “Mmmm, I am too.” “Down boy,” said Jordan, “at least until later.” He smiled and wiggled his eyebrows at me. I held him close. “Merry Christmas, Jordan.” “Merry Christmas, Ralph.”

*** Jordan and I spent Christmas day with my parents. It was good to be back home. I needed a little normalcy in my life after all the recent hectic events. The moment we stepped in the door, the warm buttery scent of Christmas cookies met my nostrils. Jordan uttered a loud “mmm” beside me. Mixed in with the scent of cookies was a waft of pine. The whole house smelled just like Christmas. Mike was with us, of course. He was our constant shadow, but I found his presence comforting. I didn’t really think anyone would try to gun down Jordan while we were at my parents’ house, but who knew? It was better to be safe than sorry. I think Mike kind of liked being in on our old fashioned Christmas, too. Mom had a big meal cooking. It smelled heavenly. I didn’t want to spoil our supper, but I had a couple of cookies decorated like little Christmas trees and a little hot cocoa. While the bread finished baking, we all went into the living room and gathered around the Christmas tree. There were presents for everyone, even Mike. Mom and Dad insisted we’d spent too much on them, but we hadn’t really bought them anything too expensive. We got Mom a lot of different scents of Yankee Candles and Dad a few flannel shirts and some tools he’d been wanting. I loved being able to afford to get my parents something I knew they’d like. Chris and Denise, my best friends, showed up not long after we’d finished ripping open presents. I hadn’t

seen either of them for months. Jordan and I had presents for them too. Chris had become a huge Phantom fan, even though he’d made fun of Jordan and his music before Jordan and I started dating. Jordan and I gave him some props that had been used in filming music videos. He was so excited he about wet his pants. I had to fight to keep from laughing. He was acting just as I would’ve if I’d got something like that before I knew Jordan. Now, I had Jordan himself, so video props weren’t such a big deal. We gave Denise a whole bunch of CD’s and not just Phantom albums. Jordan had connections in the music industry, naturally, and could get all kinds of cool free stuff. I also got Denise some of her favorite Calvin Klein cologne. After the presents, we all went in for supper and it was yummy! We sat around laughing and talking and eating—mostly eating. “This is the most delicious ham I’ve ever tasted in my entire life, Mom,” said Jordan. I loved the way Jordan had come to call my parents Mom and Dad. I think they liked it, too. Mom and Dad were very supportive of our relationship from the very start. If all gay boys had it as easy coming out as I did, the gay teen suicide rate would plummet. “Why, thank you, Jordan.” “It’s all delicious, Mrs. Rogers,” said Chris. “Oh,” said Jordan, holding his stomach, “if I eat anymore I’m gonna pop—hand me those sweet

potatoes.” Everyone laughed. I knew how Jordan felt. I thought I’d likely explode if someone poked me, but I just couldn’t stop eating. I could tell Mike was enjoying himself. He was used to endless stops at Burger Dude, Jordan’s favorite fast food restaurant. I knew he didn’t get many home cooked meals. I wondered what his life was like. I saw him every single day, but I wondered what it was like for him to spend all his time thinking about keeping Jordan safe. He had to anticipate so many possibilities and keep an eye on so many people. Jordan’s life could easily depend on what Mike did. My eyes were involuntarily drawn to Jordan’s shoulder. His wound was invisible under his shirt, but the mere thought that it was there was a reminder of the danger that was not yet over. I looked back at Mike and thanked God he was with us. I didn’t know how he could live with such a tremendous responsibility on his shoulders, but I was glad he was there. After supper, we all lay around and talked, or sat at the kitchen table and nibbled on pumpkin pie, chocolate cake, and Christmas cookies. It was a lazy day. It felt so good to just do nothing. I loved the feeling in the air, too. I was home with the boy I loved, surrounded by friends. All over the country, people were sitting near their beautifully decorated Christmas trees, probably enjoying themselves, too. I wasn’t naïve—I knew a lot of people didn’t have it so good, but there was still a certain magic in the air that I hoped everyone in the world could feel.

In the late evening, we all sat around the tree and admired its shining lights. With some prodding from Denise and some begging from Chris, we convinced Jordan to sing for us. He sang Silent Night and it was beautiful. Jordan and I returned to our cabin about ten. We undressed and lay naked under warm comforters. The fire had nearly died out in our absence and the cabin was cold, but we were warm together. We didn’t make love, but just lay there holding each other. Making love was always wonderful and intense with Jordan, but sometimes we liked to just enjoy closeness and intimacy without actually having sex. That was something wonderful about having a boyfriend I loved with all my heart—I was just as happy laying by his side as I was when we were making love with focused intensity. *** The next day we went shopping. We didn’t join the huge crowds seeking after Christmas bargains. We couldn’t have done that if we wanted to. Even if Jordan hadn’t been in danger, we couldn’t walk into a mall without creating chaos. Instead, we visited the little antique shops in the area. There weren’t big crowds there and we could shop unmolested. Jordan had his hair drawn back in a ponytail and wore his sunglasses outside, but he didn’t go to great lengths to disguise himself. None of the shop owners seemed to recognize

him—perhaps they just didn’t expect a rock star to be in an antique store. Mike shadowed us, of course. Jordan looked so cute in the Christmas sweater I’d bought him. It was red and green, naturally, with little reindeer all over it. He was so handsome it was all I could do to keep from hugging and kissing him. In one shop we found a whole set of blue stoneware pitchers. The shopkeeper said they were from the 1930’s and made by a pottery called “Uhl”, in Huntingburg, not all that far from where I lived. They were a beautiful blue with grapes on the sides. There were four of them in different sizes. Jordan bought them all—he thought they’d look good sitting on top of the step-back cupboard we’d found in Verona. “You know,” said the shopkeeper as she was writing up our purchases, “you look a great deal like that rock star, you know, the teen idol one, but I’m sure you get that all the time.” “You have no idea,” said Jordan, smiling. “If my daughter saw you, she’d go crazy.” Jordan handed her his credit card. When she read the name, her head jerked up. “You’re him, aren’t you?” It seemed Jordan wasn’t quite safe from recognition even in an antique store. “Yeah, I’m him.” “Oh my, Brandy will just die when I tell her.” “Well, I hope not!” said Jordan, grinning. “Could you sign something for her?”

“Sure.” The shopkeeper cut off a big sheet of paper like she’d used to wrap up our pitchers and Jordan signed it, “To Brandy, Merry Christmas, Jordan.” We put our latest purchase in the car and went in search of other shops. We had a blast looking at antiques and picking out things for our cabin. It made me feel very domestic. Surprisingly, I liked that feeling. I knew that if someday Jordan and I settled down instead of running all over the world, that I’d be content just to sit and read or watch TV by his side.

Jordan “That freaking bastard!” yelled Ralph out loud. I looked up from the chair where I was sitting by the stove in our little cabin. Ralph was at the table, looking through newspapers his parents had sent with us. “What?” “Oh, you’re not gonna like this, Jordan. That Reverend Wellerson did an interview and he has some nasty things to say about Phantom and you. I can’t believe this guy. He’s a reverend and he says stuff like this? He’s inciting violence against gays!” “Let me read it when you’re finished.” Ralph’s agitated state was obvious. Even if his voice weren’t quaking with anger, his use of the word “bastard” would have given away his frame of mind. Neither Ralph nor I were prone to using foul language, although “bastard” was only borderline. Ralph handed me the paper and I sat on a small bench near the window for better light. It was a little dim in the cabin, but the sun shining on the blanket of pure white snow outside provided plenty of illumination for reading near the window. As I began to read, my fists tightened on the edges of the paper, crumpling it: Reverend Jerry Wellerson has begun a new crusade against what he calls “homosexual

brainwashing” by pop music, citing the band Phantom and its lead singer, Jordan, as the leaders of the attack against “decent family values and morals.” “It’s time that decent Americans take a stand against the flagrant attempt by homosexuals to push their lifestyle on all of us. This is a serious threat and all the more so because they’re coming at us through the medium that most influences kids and especially vulnerable adolescents—music.” Wellerson points his finger directly at pop star, Jordan, of Phantom fame, citing the lyrics of his songs as a direct attempt at recruitment into the homosexual lifestyle. “Phantom’s most popular song, Do You Know That I Love You, is obviously aimed at teen boys. Jordan is openly homosexual and there he is on stage, wearing tight leather pants and revealing shirts that leave half his torso bare, singing, Do you know that I love you, directly to the thousands of teen males in his audience. It’s an obvious attempt to seduce those vulnerable, confused boys into becoming what he already is—a perversion. It’s disgusting. It’s little more than child molestation and it’s working. Before admitting his perversion, Jordan’s fans were primarily female; now his audiences are packed with teen boys who are only too willing to follow in his path. Jordan is working hard to turn the teen boys of America queer. Phantom’s music should be banned. Every parent in America should search

their son’s room for Phantom’s immoral music and destroy it before more damage is done.” Wellerson cites recent events as proof that his accusations aren’t mere speculation. “Jordan is using his fame to do everything he can to push the homosexual agenda forward. He and other band members just recently performed concerts to raise over half a million dollars to support gay youth centers, which are nothing more than recruitment centers to turn our straight boys queer. This kind of influence and power in the hands of an admitted homosexual is dangerous. Decent Americans should take whatever steps are necessary to halt Jordan and his efforts dead in their tracks.” When asked if his words could be considered an incitement to violence, Wellerson commented; “Pushing homosexuality on innocent children is violence. The kids who are turned to a life of depraved, unnatural, homosexual behavior would be better off dead. What this rock star, and those like him, is trying to do is worse than any violence I can comprehend. They are committing acts of violence in public view. It’s disguised as music, but it’s a flagrant attempt to pervert American youth. What is going on is more dangerous than any terrorist attack and it’s time all decent Americans stand up and focus all their efforts on bringing it to an end.”

There was more, but I couldn’t stand to read it. It was a pack of lies. I was furious. He came right out and said I was a child molester. He accused me of recruitment, when such a thing wasn’t even possible. What’s more, his statements were an open invitation to every bigot and redneck in the country to bash gays. The personal attack enraged me, but what really infuriated me was that this supposed man of God was preaching violence against gays. “Are you okay, Jordan?” asked Ralph. His hand was on my shoulder. I was so lost in my own thoughts I hadn’t noticed him approach. “I will be,” I said, my voice trembling. “It’s all lies, Jordan. It’s just like those tabloids. Remember when they said you got that girl pregnant? Or when they said you’d been checked into Betty Ford for drug rehab? I’m sure you haven’t forgotten the story about you and Corey Thomas, complete with a faked picture of you two kissing. It’s just crap, Jordan. Don’t let it get to you.” “Somebody’s got to stop this guy,” I said. “He’s preaching violence against gays. How can anyone do that? How can anyone justify attacks against any minority?” “What are you thinking, Jordan?” “He’s accused me of using my fame to promote the gay lifestyle—maybe it’s time I used it to speak out against people like him, against violence. If I don’t do it, who will?”

“Jordan...” Ralph paused. He was getting upset. He trembled slightly and his eyes were watery. “People like him are fanatics. If you start going up against him... I’m afraid they’ll do something to you.” I knew Ralph was remembering the attempt on my life. It was never far from my own mind. I had the wound to remember it, still sore from the bullet that ripped through my upper arm. “Ralph, I’m already out there. I live a public life. If someone wants to get me, they’re going to do it whether or not I speak out. I’ve already been marked. Speaking out won’t make me more of a target than I am already.” “Why don’t we just stay here, Jordan? We don’t need the money. We can live right here and be happy, or we can go anywhere in the world. We can get away from all this...” “Ralph, do you really think I could do that? Music is my life. I’m not going to give that up because some bully is trying to intimidate me. I couldn’t do it if I wanted. Do you know what it would do to guys like us if I put my tail between my legs and went into hiding? I can’t let this bastard win like that. I won’t.” “I just don’t want to lose you,” sobbed Ralph, wetting my good shoulder with his tears. “Ralph, Babe, I’ll take every precaution, okay? I’ll do whatever Mike says. We’ll hire on extra security, but I’ve got to do this.”

Ralph reluctantly nodded his assent. I looked out at the pure white snow and suddenly wondered if it was wise to be sitting by the window. I jumped when my cell phone rang. “Hello?” “Have you read the paper this morning?” It was Jim, my manager. “Yeah, I read it. How’d you get it so fast?” “It’s in most of the national papers; it was picked up by AP and some of the other services.” I guessed that was where the Evansville paper had picked up the story. “This guy has gone way too far. I’m going after him,” I said. “I’m calling a press conference.” “No. That’s not a good idea.” “Why not? He’s spreading lies about me and encouraging violence against gays.” “You’ll only make it worse. Besides, if you say anything, it might hamper our legal efforts.” “Legal efforts?” “The management company is suing him on your behalf and on behalf of Phantom—defamation of character and etcetera. The way to get this guy is through the legal system.” “But that will take forever!” “Listen, Jordan, you have every right to be upset, but there’s a right way to handle this and a wrong way. This Wellerson guy has stuck his foot in it. The lawyers

think we have a strong case. We can hit him right where it counts, in the wallet.” It was not what I wanted to hear—not in the least. I wanted to hold a press conference and call Wellerson a liar on national television. “Are you there, Jordan?” “Yeah.” “At least take some time to think before you do anything. Allow yourself to cool off, okay? Don’t do anything rash. We’ll get this guy, but we’ll do it through the legal system.” “Okay,” I said, but I wasn’t so sure that would be enough or that I’d go along with it. “I’ll keep you informed. You call me before you do anything, okay?” “Yeah, okay.” “Don’t worry, we’ll take care of this for you.” “Thanks.” “Bye, Jordan.” “Bye.” I pressed the off button on the phone, frowning at it. “Management company?” asked Ralph. “Yeah. They’re going to sue this Wellerson guy. They want me to keep my nose out of it.” “Are you going to?” “For now.”

Ralph nodded and released a long breath. He was obviously relieved. “You know,” I said, “I’m really losing faith in religion. When I was a boy, I thought religious people and preachers and everyone like that stood for good, you know? But now, all I see is people who call themselves Christians trying to take away our rights. They don’t want us to be able to marry. They don’t even want us to have protection against hate crimes. It’s like they think we don’t have any rights just because of our sexual orientation. I mean, isn’t the very basis of Christianity showing compassion for others? Isn’t it all supposed to be about love and understanding? What I’m seeing...it’s just all about hate and violence. These people, who are the very ones who should be preaching tolerance, love, and understanding, are going out and preaching that it’s okay to beat up gays, even kill them. I just don’t understand!” “You’re really upset about this, aren’t you?” “Hell yeah, I’m upset! The very people who should be helping and protecting us are trying to destroy us! These are the kind of people that send their kids away to be drugged up and tortured to try to make them straight, just like Chad and Brendan told us about. Can you imagine it? Having your own kid kidnapped or taken away by the police to be put somewhere and pumped full of drugs and given electric shocks? I mean...this is really shaking me up. Where was God during all this? I used to have this faith...that everything would be okay, but the whole world is filled with hate

and violence and suffering. I mean...why does cancer even exist? Why does anyone have to go hungry, or be cold, or depressed, or lonely? I can’t stand it! I’m surrounded by all this suffering and I can’t do anything about it. And then, the very people who should be trying to make things better go out and encourage people to beat up gays! How can God tolerate that? I’m not even sure there is a God anymore!” “Not all of them are like that, Jordan. What about Reverend Gerard? Yeah, there are plenty of guys like Wellerson out there, but there are also plenty like Gerard, I bet.” “I wish I could believe that, but I very much fear that Reverend Gerard is the exception and not the rule. Things aren’t like they should be. How can there be a God when all this is going on? I don’t think I believe in God anymore.” I grabbed Ralph and hugged him, crying on his shoulder. I needed to be held just then. I needed to feel his strong arms around me. I was so upset, so frightened, and confused. Ralph was there for me. He held me and kissed my forehead and petted my hair. He was the only thing keeping me sane. “There is a God,” he whispered, rocking me back and forth. “He led you to me.”

Ralph When Jordan had calmed down, I called Mike into the cabin. I handed him the paper and Jordan filled him in on what the management company was doing. Mike wasn’t happy about this new turn of events at all. “This is a declaration of war,” said Mike in a low voice. “Do you understand what this means, Jordan?” “I um...I think so.” “You have to read between the lines, but it’s plain to see. This Reverend Wellerson has just declared a holy war on you. That means every religious nut out there now believes he has a license to kill you.” “No!” I said, not because I disagreed, but because I didn’t want it to be true. “You have to cancel all your appearances, Jordan. You can’t go out in public. You...” “No,” said Jordan. “I’m not going into hiding.” “Jordan...” “I’m not going to live my life like some prisoner. If I do that, they’ve already won. Besides, do you really think that would protect me?” Mike looked at the floor for a few moments. “It would be safer.” “Yes, but even I know it wouldn’t guarantee my safety. We can take precautions, do whatever it takes,

but I’m not knuckling under. Too many people are watching and not just religious fanatics like Wellerson. If I go into hiding, it’s going to send a message to gay boys everywhere to just lay down and take it, instead of fighting for what’s right.” “And if they kill you? What message will that send to gay boys?” “That I was willing to die because I knew I was right. I’d rather be a martyr than a coward.” Jordan and Mike stood there eye to eye. It became a silent battle. Each was determined. Finally, Mike relented. “I want to call in extra security.” “Like in Verona?” asked Jordan. “No, this is even more serious than I thought. We’re going to need the best. I know just the guys.” “So they’re the best, huh?” asked Jordan. “They taught me everything I know.” *** The best showed up that very evening. I don’t know where they came from or how Mike managed to get them so fast, but I felt safer with them there—safer for Jordan. None of them were quite as big as Mike, but they each had the kind of bearing that clearly indicated size didn’t matter. Each of them were well muscled— not pretty boy, Abercrombie & Fitch muscled, nor

hulking, Mr. Universe muscled—their builds weren’t for looks or contests, their bodies were tools of their trade. Mike had told us each of them were former Navy Seals—the kind of guys who went on missions that didn’t get talked about. I was glad they were on our side. I had the distinct impression than any one of them could have killed me in two seconds with his bare hands. Justin Puckett was about 5’ 10” and had short, coal black hair. If he ever wanted to get out of the bodyguard business, he could’ve gone into modeling or movies or something. He looked like a younger, cuter Tom Cruise. Kip Reese was 6’ or so, blond, with closely clipped hair and piercing eyes that reminded me of an eagle. I could tell as he looked around the room that he was taking in every detail from a security angle. His were eyes that could pick out a gunman in a surging crowd. I hoped he’d be sticking especially close to Jordan. The last of the trio, Sam Elgin, was about 6’ 2” and had brown hair about the shade of mine. Something about him made me think he looked like a hockey player. His hair was short, too. The new security detail made me a little edgy. Their military bearing made me feel like we were in a war zone or something, and I guess we were in a way. Each of the new guys looked to be in his late twenties or early thirties, but I couldn’t tell for sure and didn’t feel comfortable asking. They were there to protect Jordan, which made them more than okay with me, but I was a tad frightened of them. Even that made me feel a little

better, though, if they scared me, they’d scare the crap out of anyone who meant Jordan harm. Mike sat at the table with Justin, Kip, and Sam. Jordan and I stood back a bit while they discussed our situation. I didn’t know about Jordan, but I felt kind of like an outsider. “Do you think we’re okay here?” asked Mike, indicating the cabin. “That depends on who we’re dealing with and how many people know about this place,” said Justin. He looked over his shoulder at Jordan. “Just us,” said Jordan, “and Ralph’s parents.” “And a couple of my uncles who helped move things in,” I added. “And the guys who did all the work on the place, although they don’t know Jordan is connected with the cabin. My dad arranged most things and the rest was done by phone and email.” “It would be wise to switch locations,” said Justin. “Jordan’s location will become known soon, if it isn’t already, and this cabin is situated badly, from a security standpoint.” “How so?” I asked. Justin pointed to the window and the door that had a large window in it as well. “There’s thick cover not twenty feet from the cabin and trees less than ten feet away. It’s prefect cover for someone to slip in and take a shot through the window. There aren’t even blinds. At night, you’re a lit up target. My granny could slip in and pick both of you off.”

I swallowed hard. All this talk of getting “picked off” was getting to me. “There’s too much glass, anyway,” said Sam. “At the very least it needs to be covered with heavy wire screens, to protect against fire bombs, or just someone chucking a rock through the window and showering the interior with shards of broken glass.” “There’s an open crawlspace under the cabin,” pointed out Kip. “Someone can slip under the cabin and shoot right through the floor or blow the whole thing to hell.” “Or,” said Sam, “someone could slip under the cabin, start a fire, and then pick each of you off as the smoke forced you out.” I had no idea there were so many ways to get at us in the cabin. I’d thought it was safe, but the very things I thought would protect Jordan, like the surrounding forest, were dangers. “I think we should leave here as soon as possible,” said Mike. “Okay,” said Jordan, “that’s reasonable. We’ve got to be in New York in a few days to start our appearances. Ross, Kieran, Ralph, and I have reservations at the Waldorf Astoria.” “Not anymore,” said Kip. “Whoever is out to get you already knows that by now.” “But the reservations aren’t made in any of our names,” said Jordan.

“That doesn’t matter.” “Do you really think we’re dealing with someone who’s that good?” asked Jordan. “I mean, the guy who shot me was just some religious nut.” “Maybe, and maybe not,” said Kip. “When it comes to protecting your life, it pays to be paranoid. From now on, we’ll make the travel arrangements. You tell us where you need to be and we’ll get you there.” “Phantom’s first scheduled appearance is on Letterman on New Year’s Eve,” said Jordan. “We’re doing one of our new songs.” “That’s a very open environment,” said Kip. “Mike has already informed us that you intend to make appearances. My professional opinion is that that’s a bad idea.” “If I can’t live my life,” said Jordan, “it’s not worth living anyway.” “You’re the boss, but I just want you to understand the risks.” “I understand and believe me, I don’t want to get shot again. It hurts.” Jordan’s upper arm was still bandaged. The wound was healing, but he was very sore and somewhat stiff in his movements. I wondered if it would affect his ability to play. “We’ll do all we can,” said Kip. I didn’t doubt him in the least. I was glad the new trio was looking out for

my boyfriend. I trusted Mike completely, but four guys could do a lot more guarding than just one. It was decided we’d leave that very night. I didn’t even call Mom and Dad and tell them we were leaving until we were walking out to the jet the management company was providing for us. I didn’t give them any details, other than that Phantom would be on Letterman on New Year’s Eve. That was no secret. It was even in TV Guide. It felt odd not being able to tell my parents where I’d be staying, but Mike and the trio insisted on complete secrecy. They seemed to think that even my parents’ phone could be bugged. I felt like I was in some kind of spy movie. Even the jet had been searched for bombs. Jordan seemed tense and I could understand why. I was stressed out and I wasn’t even the main target. Our security detail had made it clear, however, that anyone after Jordan might pick me off if they got the chance. It would be a way to hurt him. Even if they didn’t try for me, I could get hurt or killed just by being near. I thought of Mikey. He was doing just fine now, but he’d almost died because he was standing a few feet behind Jordan. I was so relieved when we’d found out he was going to be okay. If he’d died, Jordan would never have forgiven himself. I’d never have forgiven myself, either. Once we were in the air, Jordan sat beside me, nervously tapping his fingers on the armrest. “You’re turning into Ross,” I said.

“Huh? Oh,” said Jordan, looking down at his fingers. He looked up at me—his eyes sad. “What’s wrong?” “I’ve been thinking... Maybe it would be a good idea if you went to stay with your parents for a while, or you could go off on vacation somewhere, anywhere you want.” “Why?” “I don’t want you getting hurt, Ralph.” I swallowed a knot of fear that suddenly appeared in my throat. I wasn’t afraid because I thought something might happen to me, but because Jordan was taking the threat on his life seriously enough that he wanted to send me away so I’d be safe. I couldn’t bear the thought of him getting hurt. His concern made it all too real. “I’m staying with you,” I said flatly, leaving no room for argument. Jordan nodded, smiled, and hugged me. When the jet landed in New York, we were pushed right into a big limo. I had no doubt it was another bulletproof, bombproof car. I thought for a moment that a limo might draw attention, but it wouldn’t in New York City—there were all kinds of them there. We were moving more secretly than we ever had. One sure sign of that was that there were no fans waiting to meet us, not one. We were taken straight to the Empire Hotel, where Kip and Sam jumped out and slipped into a side door. A

couple of minutes later, Kip appeared and nodded. Jordan and I we were rushed in and pushed into an elevator. Justin held us in the elevator while Mike and Sam checked the hall, and then the room. When they were sure all was clear, we were swept directly into our room. “Neither of you go out the door, or near the windows for any reason, understood?” said Mike in his most business-like manner. “Understood,” said Jordan. I nodded. The drapes were already drawn, but the large suite of rooms was well lit. If this was to be our prison, it wasn’t a bad one. “No room service,” said Kip. “You need anything, you tell us and we’ll get it.” There sure was a lot to this whole bodyguard thing. I didn’t think I was going to enjoy it at all. The Empire Hotel was luxurious. It was only a block from Central Park, not that we’d be going there, and about a mile from Rockefeller Center and the studios we’d be visiting. Of course, a mile in New York City was a long way. “You guys hungry?” asked Mike. “Famished,” said Jordan. “Maybe you can pick us up some stuff from Burger Dude.” “Uh, too obvious—anyone carrying several Burger Dude bags into the hotel is going to attract attention.” Jordan’s face momentarily fell.

“Okay, um, I guess anything is fine. Surprise us,” said Jordan. Mike left us with the trio. I hoped he wouldn’t be too long, my stomach was grumbling. I jumped when Jordan’s cell phone rang. “Hello? Hey! How are you? Cool, we just arrived in...” Kip held up his hand and shook his head, reminding Jordan not to give out any details that weren’t already obvious. “We’re in New York. Yeah, Letterman in a couple of days, then The Today Show, Good Morning America, Regis and Kathie Lee, Rosie, and like that.” It sounded like Jordan was giving away our whole itinerary, but anyone with a TV schedule could have found out as much. Jordan looked at me and mouthed “Ethan.” I smiled. “No, I haven’t. No!” Jordan was getting upset. I wanted to know what was going on. It was hard trying to figure things out since I could hear only Jordan’s end of the conversation. “Why would they do that? Is there some other building we could maybe lease or something? That doesn’t sound too great, but I guess it would be better than nothing. Well, you look into it and call me back when you find out something. I’ll cover the expenses. We’re NOT going to let this happen. Okay, thanks Ethan. Say hi to Nathan and Nick and everyone. Okay. Bye.”

“Damn it!” said Jordan when he hung up. Our bodyguards were watching him. “What’s wrong?” I asked. “The gay youth center in Verona. Their lease is coming up in a couple weeks and the owner’s kicking them out.” “Why?” “Ethan’s not sure, but the building’s just changed hands.” “Oh.” “Ethan says there’s another building we might be able to lease for them, or rent. It’s kind of crappy, but he doesn’t think anything else will be available.” “I guess that’s the best you can do then.” “Yeah, for now. I’m so sick of this! It’s like all these morons are trying to get at us anyway they can.” “Maybe someone just offered them more. It could be a business thing.” “Could be... I’m going to call Jim and see if he’ll find someone to dig into it for me.” “We can help you with that,” said Kip. “Can you?” “Yeah, it sounds like you’re talking private investigating. We know people.” Jordan explained the whole situation in detail, including the F.A.F. and how they were trying to cut funding for gay youth centers. Our trio of guards

already knew a great deal. In fact, they already seemed to know everything Jordan was telling them. “Sounds like a job for Benny,” said Sam. “We’ll get him on it,” Kip told Jordan. Those guys were sure connected. Jordan disappeared into one of the bedrooms with his cell phone and closed the door. I didn’t follow, as he obviously wanted privacy. Mike arrived forty-five minutes later carrying several plain brown paper bags. They were filled with all kinds of hot sandwiches. Mike pulled out one smaller bag from inside one of the larger ones—it said Burger Dude on the side. Jordan smiled and Mike grinned back at him.

Jordan Ross and Kieran joined us in New York a couple of days later. We switched hotels and went to Le Parker Meridian. We shared a suite of rooms since it was easier to guard one suite than three. Our security trio eyed Ross nervously when he grabbed Mike and drummed on his head with his fingers, but Ross promised to behave, at least as far as security was concerned. There’d be no sneaking out to wreak havoc in the lobby or look for girls (or boys). I had a feeling the new security protocols would be a lot harder on Ross than the rest of us. He’d become even wilder as the months passed and was missing as often as not. If he was around, he wasn’t alone. I worried about his promiscuous lifestyle. I was sure he drove Shawn, his bodyguard, absolutely nuts. We were surrounded by security now. In addition to Mike, Shawn, and the trio, there was Rod, Kieran’s full time bodyguard. We were accustomed to Mike, Shawn, and Rod, but the new guys made our lifestyle much more crowded. Letterman went off without a hitch. We arrived not long before the show. There was a large crowd waiting on us, but our wall of bodyguards got us through quickly. I missed the old days when we could stop and sign autographs and shake hands with the fans. I hoped

they understood why we couldn’t do that just now. I hoped that someday things would get back to normal. We did have just a bit of trouble getting in. Studio security didn’t want to let our security through, but they relented when it was obvious that Ross, Kieran, and I weren’t going in without them. The trio searched our dressing room and all six of our guards kept watch over us like no one would believe. Ralph seemed very nervous before we went on. I gave him a hug and told him not to worry—no one was going to get into the Letterman show with a gun. He smiled and nodded, but I don’t think his fear eased. I know he was afraid someone would manage to take a shot at me. We played a new song, I Never Thought I’d Find You, which we’d never performed before. We’d barely even had time to practice it. Dave and the audience loved it, but I was a bit off. My sore arm was affecting my movements somewhat. I guess I was just lucky that was the only negative physical result of taking a bullet. I could have suffered some kind of nerve damage that would’ve kept me from playing—at least I guessed so. I didn’t know much about that kind of stuff. I smiled as I sang our new song. It held a special place in my heart. I hadn’t written it; none of us had anything to do with it, except for a bit of tweaking. It had been written—both lyrics and music—by my dad. It was one of the songs he’d penned before he died. I wondered what he’d have thought if he knew we’d performed it on national television. I was planning on

performing it at every stop in our upcoming tour. If Dave’s audience was any indication, it was going to be a big hit. We all rested easier when we returned to the hotel. Or, I should say, when we went to our new hotel, The Benjamin. Mike didn’t want us staying in any one spot for more than a couple of days. Whenever we did an appearance, we never returned to the hotel we’d been in the night before. We switched cars on an irregular schedule, too. They were usually limos, but not always. Our security detail made sure we never followed a pattern. Nothing was ever done the same way twice. Kip’s investigator dug up information in record time on the new owner of the building that housed the gay youth group in Verona. What he discovered made me tremble with rage. They’d gone to a lot of trouble to hide the fact, but the F.A.F. had bought the building. Wellerson’s group had gone out of their way to try and shut down the gay youth center right in my dad’s old hometown. I was sure it was no coincidence. It made me more determined than ever to keep that particular youth group going. I’d already set a plan in motion. In fact, I spent almost every spare moment on it. So far, I hadn’t mentioned it to anyone, except those carrying it out. This last attack on behalf of the religious whackos made me believe it was time to make my plans public. I announced it on the Rosie O’Donnell show. After we’d performed a couple of songs from our new album, Ross, Kieran, and I sat by Rosie’s desk while she talked with us. I loved Rosie. She was the first to really give

us a chance when we were starting out and I have no doubt that’s what really launched Phantom into high gear. We’d been doing well before we were on her show for the first time, but things got crazy after we appeared on Rosie. “So what’ve you guys been doing? We haven’t heard much from you since the last tour,” said Rosie, after we chatted about this and that for a while. “We’ve been putting new songs together and spending a lot of time in the studio,” I said. “Yeah! It’s like a sweat shop, Rosie!” whined Ross. “Kieran and Jordan make me work all the time! I have to do everything!” Ross was his usual hyped up self. No wonder some people thought he was on drugs. When Ross finally shut up, I got a chance to say something. “We’ve been doing some work to benefit gay youth centers,” I said. “The funding is being cut in my home state of Indiana, and we’ve done some concerts to raise money. There’s a youth center in Verona, that’s in Indiana for everyone who doesn’t know, that’s being forced out of its accommodations. That particular center is especially important to me because it’s in my dad’s old hometown. I’ve decided to get personally involved and build a new center in Verona. In fact, ground has already been broken.” Ross and Kieran both stared at me. It was the first they’d heard of my plan. I hadn’t even discussed it with Ralph.

“The youth centers provide a lot of valuable counseling services. They also operate suicide hotlines. The services they offer aren’t limited to gay kids either. If straight kids need help because they’re being abused at home, or just need someone to talk to, or whatever, the centers are there for them. It’s a real crime that their funding is being cut, so we’re trying to do what little we can to help.” “I think all of you are very admirable for what you’re doing to help kids,” said Rosie. “You can count on me for a donation.” I smiled. I hadn’t mentioned the youth centers in hopes of a donation, but Rosie was always there when someone needed help. Sometimes watching how she helped people on her show made me cry. What I was hoping was that at least some of Rosie’s tremendous viewing audience would be sympathetic to my cause. We needed help from anywhere we could get it. Ross, Kieran, and I talked a bit more about our upcoming album and tour and then our segment was over. Pretty soon, we were in a limo headed for our latest hotel, The Hilton Times Square. “Are you out of your mind, Jordan?” asked Kieran, as soon as the door had closed. “You know I’m out of my head,” I said. “Ross has rubbed off on me.” “Hey!” yelled Ross so loudly I jumped. “We’re not crazy! And neither is Jordan!”

“Okay, schizophrenic boy, settle down,” said Kieran, shaking his head. “How much is that gonna cost?” asked Ralph. “I don’t know, really, but whatever it costs, I’m going to do it. I figure it’ll be a few million, maybe more.” “Shit! You have that kind of money? I mean, I figured you had a lot, but not that much,” said Ralph. “Well, I probably won’t have much left when it’s done. I not only want to build a center, I want to endow it so it can keep running, no matter what. I talked with Rosie after the show, while Ross and Kieran were playing with the band and you were off flirting with Chad Allen, and she handed me a check for half a million dollars.” “Oh my God!” said Ralph. He was floored, just as I had been when I saw all the zeros on the check. “Half a million? She’s always giving money away to help people, but WOW!” “Yeah, she’s so awesome! I didn’t even ask her.” “And I was not flirting with Chad Allen!” said Ralph, blushing. “Yeah, sure, Ralph.” I laughed. I loved teasing him. “I wasn’t!” “Hey, I wouldn’t blame you if you did. Have you ever seen a photo of him without a shirt? Yum.” “Hey, there’s a heterosexual in the car,” said Kieran. “Could you two stop drooling over guys for a while? I

don’t talk about how hot girls are when you’re around.” Kieran was smiling, so I knew he didn’t really mind. “You can talk about them all you want, Kieran. We’re accepting of all minorities.” Kieran rolled his eyes. “So how far along is the center? Where is it? Do Ethan and Nathan know?” asked Ralph. “So far, the construction site has been prepared and the foundation is almost complete. I call and check on it every morning. The construction company is moving really fast. They’re subcontracting some of the work and construction is going on twenty-four hours a day. They’ve got as many guys working on the project as is possible, without them getting in each other’s way. The whole thing is supposed to be done in less than three months.” “Wow, that’s fast,” said Ralph. “What did you do, start in on this right after Ethan called?” “Nah, I took a couple of minutes to think about it,” I grinned. “The contractor told me the job would normally take six months at least, but with crews working around the clock, it speeds things up considerably. Of course, there are some things that can’t be rushed. To finish it any faster would require violating the laws of physics and that’s impossible.” “No, it’s not!” said Ross loudly. “I do it ALL the time.”

“I’m sure you do, Ross,” said Kieran, patting his shoulder. Ross glanced at him out of the corner of his eye, but didn’t react to his condescending remark. “So, where is it?” asked Ralph. “I bought a farm right on the edge of Verona. The front of the property is just to the west of town, only four blocks from Main Street. There’s 60 acres and I’m going to have a big park landscaped behind the center. The center itself is going to be set back off the street some, but it will be easily accessible from town.” “How were you able to even get the land purchased so quickly?” asked Kieran. “That usually takes weeks.” “I gave them $10,000 above the asking price with the stipulation that it be in my possession in twenty-four hours. I gave the real estate agent a big bonus, too.” “I guess that explains that,” said Kieran. “Why didn’t you tell us about this before?” asked Ralph. “I wanted it to be a surprise. I intended for it to be much further along, maybe even finished, before I told anyone. Of course, I’m sure word would’ve gotten out before too long anyway. There are so many guys working on it that some are bound to talk. Plus, I’m sure people in Verona have been asking questions, especially with construction going on around the clock. Huge stadium lights illuminate the site for the night shifts. They say it causes a glow in the sky that can be see from Plymouth.”

“So Ethan doesn’t know?” asked Ralph. “When are you going to tell him and Nathan?” “I think I’ll call them later today. I’m sure Nick will have already told them. I’m willing to bet he was watching Rosie.” “I bet Ethan will be thrilled.” “Yeah, he’s one of the reasons I’m doing this. He and Nathan worked hard to start a center in Verona and they deserve help in keeping it going.” “I’d say this is more than help, Jordan. That place will be there forever,” said Kieran. “You can count on me to chip in.” “Me too,” said Ross. “Thanks, guys,” said Jordan. Our conversation ended as we pulled up to a side entrance at The Hilton. There were no fans and no paparazzi. Mike was doing a super job of keeping our movements secret. I looked up at the luxurious hotel. I couldn’t wait to get inside. I needed some time alone with Ralph—boyfriend time. We’d have to wait a bit longer, however, as we couldn’t go in until Mike, Kip, and Sam checked out the route to our room. I missed the days when Phantom was an unknown band playing malls, fairs, and water parks. I missed being able to just walk around like a normal person. Maybe someday I could again, but that day seemed far, far away.

Ralph It happened when we were coming out of yet another studio. There was a big crowd waiting for us outside— fans, the press, religious fanatics shaking signs, and some curious New Yorkers. I was nearly to the limo when a ball of flame and black smoke erupted with a deafening blast—a car just a few feet down the street had exploded in a massive fireball. The heat from it seared my face, but I wasn’t hurt, other than scratches from flying glass or metal. Screams and shrieks rent the air—people were screaming and crying. I didn’t see much—Sam shoved me face down into the limo, knocking the breath out of me for a moment. The loud crack of gunfire tore through the cries behind me, creating yet more screams and panic. Sam twisted back out of the car and I was able to get up and take a look. My heart lurched, my mind exploded in pain, and I screamed. A still form was lying on the ground. In the chaos, I couldn’t make out who it was. I tried to mentally force the people who were running around in a panic to get out of my way so I could have a clear view, but they blocked it. I couldn’t make out who was laying on the sidewalk. It was hard to see through my own tears. I was bawling. I just knew they’d got him— they’d killed Jordan. I had to scramble back as Rod pushed Kieran into the car. Rod had a pistol drawn and was whipping his head

around this way and that. People were running past the limo. Police were running in the opposite direction, toward the chaotic scene. Mike and Kip shoved Jordan inside, crushing the rest of us. His clothes were stained with blood, but he was alive! He was crying and shaking. The door slammed shut and someone screamed, “go!” The limo took off, leaving the chaos behind. “Where’s Ross?” I asked. No one answered. Jordan bawled his eyes out. “We can’t just leave him!” I screamed, trying to make someone listen to me. “Where’s Ross?” “Shawn and Justin are with him,” said Mike. “The paramedics are on their way.” My eyes grew wide. I looked at Jordan. He was sobbing and trembling. I started to cry, too. “Are you hurt?” I asked him. He shook his head. He was too upset to talk. There was a lot of blood on his clothes. If he wasn’t hurt then... Kieran was sobbing, head bowed in the seat across from us, his arms wrapped around his torso, as if he were trying to draw within himself. Panic arose in my chest. “Is he okay?” I asked. “Is Ross okay?” There was a silence that seemed to last forever before Jordan answered me between powerful sobs, “I... I...think he’s...dead.” Jordan lost it and I

hugged him close as he bawled, ignoring the blood that soaked into my clothes. The limo kept moving through the streets of New York City. Mike was on his cell phone. I could only make out part of his conversation. We weren’t going to our new hotel, we were going to a safe house somewhere. A few moments later, squad cars and police motorcycles whipped in all around us, lights flashing. The driver followed the lead car. We were driven out of the city into a residential district. We drove past heavy guarded gates that closed behind us. I had no idea how much time had passed. The car was filled with sobs and grief. I cried my own eyes out. I couldn’t believe it—Ross was lying back there dead. It just didn’t seem real. We sat in the limo for a few moments until our bodyguards and the police led us in. Jordan was sobbing more quietly now. His eyes had a distant look—like he didn’t see what was around him. I feared he was in shock. “Is there someplace I can clean him up?” I asked no one in particular. An officer led me to a bathroom. I slipped inside with Jordan. He didn’t speak as I undressed him; it was as if he wasn’t even aware of me. I stripped him naked, leaving a pile of bloody clothes on the floor. I stripped, too, and turned on the shower. When I had the temperature adjusted, I led Jordan into the stall. I soaped up a washcloth and began to clean off the blood that had soaked through his clothes—Ross’ blood.

Jordan was scaring me. He sobbed softly, like a frightened child. He didn’t react to anything. His eyes were blank and unmoving, like those of a blind man. It was as if he’d drawn completely into himself. I kept quietly speaking to him, trying to soothe him with words, but I don’t know if he even heard me. I don’t know how I managed to keep myself going. I tried to block thoughts of Ross out of my mind. I knew if I let myself think about what had just happened, I’d just start screaming and keep screaming. I had to be strong for Jordan. One of his dearest friends in the entire world had just been gunned down right beside him. I couldn’t even begin to imagine the horror of that. There were images in Jordan’s mind now that would never go away. I washed Jordan’s long, blond hair, getting rid of the blood. It wasn’t pleasant, but I wasn’t about to leave my boyfriend in that state. I feared he'd notice the blood at any moment and freak out on me right there in the bathroom. I’d left the door unlocked just in case. I didn’t know what was going to happen. Jordan didn’t seem in his right mind. I sincerely feared for his sanity. Finally, we were both clean. The bloodied clothes had been taken away, probably as evidence. I wasn’t even aware that anyone had entered the bathroom, but two stacks of clothing were waiting on the counter. Someone had pulled them from our suitcases in the car. I dressed Jordan, then myself, and then led my boyfriend out to where Kieran was talking with some detectives, answering questions.

“I think he needs to go to the hospital,” I said, as everyone looked up at us. “No,” said Jordan. It was the first word he’d uttered since we were in the car. “I want to see Ross.” “We need you to answer a few questions, if you can,” said one of the detectives. Jordan acted as if he hadn’t heard him. I was quite sure it was no act. Jordan just stared blankly off into space, then repeated, “I want to see Ross.” “Do we know anything about Ross yet?” I asked, as I kept my hands on Jordan’s shoulders. “He’s been taken to a hospital. There’s no word on his condition,” said Mike. “Is he alive?” “I don’t know,” said Mike quietly, his voice hoarse. “He was shot in the head,” said Kieran, tears streaming down his cheeks. “I saw him...I...” Kieran couldn’t keep going. The memory was too much for him. My own dread increased. Jordan fought back tears as I led him to a seat. An officer asked him questions, but he didn’t respond. He just sat there as if he was witless. The only word he seemed able to mutter now was “Ross.” I sank onto the sofa with Jordan and closed my eyes. I let myself think about Ross and the thoughts brought new tears. Someone handed me a tissue, but I couldn’t tell who through my watery eyes. I kept telling myself that we didn’t know anything for sure yet. We didn’t know if he

was dead. Until someone said the words, there was hope. *** We were taken to the hospital some time later under heavy guard. I had no idea how much time had passed. Doctors checked all of us out, just in case. Kieran and I were shaken up, but physically we were fine. We both had some scratches, but they were nothing worse than we would’ve gotten in a fall. Jordan wasn’t doing so well, but he was coming around—at least he reacted when I hugged him and his eyes seemed to see once again. The doctors said he’d be fine and I found that a relief, but he was far from being his normal self. We’d found out little bits and pieces of information, some of it from TV broadcasts. No one in the crowd or surrounding area had been killed by the car bomb. That was good news. I feared that a lot of people might have died in the attack. There were several injuries, but nothing too severe. There were conflicting accounts about Phantom—some said that Ross, Jordan, and Kieran had all been rushed to the hospital—many reported that Ross was feared dead. Jordan, Kieran, and I all started crying again when we found out Ross was alive. It seemed to take forever to get them to tell us anything, but at last we knew. They let us into intensive care, although visitors outside of immediate family were not allowed. My heart

jumped into my throat when my eyes fell on Ross for the first time. He looked like he was lying there dead. He was pale and his eyes were closed. Seeing him so silent and lifeless chilled me to the bone. Ross was the most hyper boy I knew. Even when he was asleep, he tossed and turned: now, he was still. I had a horrible image of him lying dead in his coffin, but I banished it from my mind. It would not come true. Jordan took his hand, but Ross’ fingers did not close around Jordan’s. The steady beep of a heart monitor and the hiss of some machine that I guessed was breathing for Ross broke the silence of the room. None of us said anything as we stood there looking down at our friend. I don’t think I realized until that moment just how much I loved Ross. Things had happened between him and Jordan that should not have, but Ross had gone out of his way to make things right. I bore no grudge against him. There was a big, thick bandage on the side of Ross’ head. That’s where he’d taken the bullet. It was a wonder he wasn’t dead. “What’s his condition?” asked Jordan. “We normally only give that information out to the next of kin,” said a doctor who was attending him, “but Ross’ parents told us to let you in and treat you as if you were immediate family.” “His parents?” “They’re on their way.” “His condition?” asked Jordan again.

The expression of the physician’s face chilled me to the bone. It was the look that must’ve crossed his face when he had to tell someone they had cancer or AIDS. “There’s no easy way to tell you this, so I’ll just tell you—Ross slipped into a coma shortly after he was brought in.” “Will he...will he come out of it?” asked Jordan. His tone was pleading, as if he were begging the doctor to say “yes.” There was a long pause before the doctor answered, his eyes said it all. I bowed my head. “It’s possible that he could awaken. We haven’t run the full battery of scans yet, so we don’t know the full extent of the damage, but the preliminary diagnosis isn’t good. Usually patients with this kind of head trauma have less than a five percent chance of regaining consciousness.” Tears streamed down Jordan’s face and Kieran cried beside him. Jordan fought hard to rein in his sobs, but his voice cracked as he spoke. “Five percent?” “I’m sorry to tell you this,” said the doctor, “but it’s best you know the truth now. I don’t want to lead you on with false hopes.” Jordan nodded. “If he does regain consciousness, will he be okay?” His tone was pleading again. Jordan was grasping at straws and he knew it. The doctor’s face was grim. “Again, at this point I can’t say for sure, but there’ll likely be significant damage to his brain and nervous system.”

I felt as if there were no hope. Ross would never open his eyes again. And, if beyond all hope he did, he might be little more than a vegetable, unable to walk, or talk. The only thing that would restore Ross was a miracle. He’ll never play the drums again, I thought to myself, and despair set in. “You’ve got to help him!” screamed Jordan. “I don’t care what it costs! I’ll pay for anything! Anything! Just make him okay! Just make him okay!” Jordan lost it. I was afraid he was going to attack the doctor. He was bawling. Kieran and I helped to calm him. We got him in a chair. The doctor called a nurse in and she gave Jordan a sedative. “We’ll do everything we can for your friend,” said the doctor to Kieran and me, and then quietly left. They came and took Ross away not long after that, for those scans the doctor had mentioned. It looked impossible that they could move him and all the equipment keeping him alive all at once, but they did. Kieran and I tried to convince Jordan to go to back to the safe house and rest, but he refused to leave. When they brought Ross back later, Jordan took his hand and sat right there talking to him, as if Ross could hear him. Jordan wouldn’t leave his side. Only when he fell asleep were we able to make a bed for him with three chairs. Kieran and I dozed in our own chairs, while Ross was lost in the depths of his coma. I wondered if he dreamed and if he was as crazy and wild in his dreams as he had been in life. Please come back to us, Ross, I silently prayed.

*** Over the next several days, we all answered lots of questions. Sometimes, the detectives asked the same ones over and over. I was sick of it, but if it would help them get to the bottom of things, then I’d go on answering questions forever. Ross lay there, day after day, like sleeping beauty, unchanging, unmoving. His parents came and kept vigil with us. We took turns sitting with Ross, hoping against hope that he’d open his eyes. We talked to him, sang to him, did anything we could so he’d know we were there. Jordan refused to leave his side, until Ross’ mother talked to him and told him Ross would want him to rest. She told him he’d be welcome to sit with Ross all he wanted, but he needed to get some real sleep. Jordan resisted at first, but bowed to her wisdom. I was relieved. I’d never seen Jordan like this before. I feared he’d waste away, sitting there by Ross’ bed. Ross’ parents kept us informed; no information was withheld from us. They knew that we were Ross’ family as much as they. I almost wished we weren’t privy to all the details—they were bleak. There was talk of pulling the plug so Ross could peacefully drift off into inevitable death, but not one of us wanted to give up hope just yet. We sat, waiting for a miracle that did not come. They got the guy who did it. Justin took him out a split second after he’d fired toward Jordan and Ross. He didn’t have time for a second round. The gunman was

talking, singing like a bird as they say, when faced with a long term in prison, and likely the death penalty. That may be why there were so many questions—questions about Reverend Wellerson and F.A.F.: Had any of us received death threats? Had Wellerson himself contacted us? Wellerson had been arrested. The gunman had fingered him, telling how he’d paid him to kill Jordan, handing the money over to the authorities—money donated so that Wellerson could keep preaching; money that had instead been used to take Ross from us all. When Jordan found out, it was terrible to see. If Wellerson had been standing there, Jordan would have went for him. He’d have tried to kill him, of that I had no doubt. He cursed him. He cursed all religious people. He stopped just short of cursing God, maybe because he didn’t believe in him anymore. I’d never seen Jordan so upset before. I’d never heard him say such things. For the first time, I actually began to fear that he might hurt himself. I was always worried that someone would try to kill him and that fear had been more than justified. Now, a new fear rose in my mind. Jordan needed help. I’d do all I could for him, but I was afraid it wouldn’t be enough. A cold shudder passed up and down my spine, as I feared he might follow in the footsteps of his dad. He needed help and I was going to get it for him. I got Jordan some hot tea from a vending machine, and then rubbed his shoulders as he sipped it sitting by Ross. The tension in his muscles was apparent; he was

as tight as a drawn bowstring. He relaxed a little as I massaged him and spoke quietly to him about the pleasures to be found in life, but I knew I could only do so much. Ross was lying there in a coma, dead to the world and Jordan sat there by him, being consumed from the inside with guilt and hate. “It’s my fault,” he said quietly, when we were alone. “It’s my fault this happened. That bullet was meant for me. It should be me lying in that bed—not Ross. It would be better if I’d died, instead of this...” “It’s not your fault, Jordan. It’s the gunman’s fault, it’s Wellerson’s fault for paying him to do it, but it’s not yours.” Jordan just shook his head slowly, drowning in remorse and guilt. *** In the coming days, Jordan spiraled downward. He did nothing but sit by Ross and talk of guilt and revenge and the failure of religion. I’d never seen him like that. Jordan had always been an optimist. He’d always believed that everything would work out for the best. All that had been taken from him by a bullet put into his friend’s head. When he seemed especially calm, I brought up something that’d been on my mind, something that Ethan had suggested when I’d called him and told him what was going on with Jordan.

“Jordan, I was thinking about what you said about Christians and God and all that. I...um...I know someone you might what to talk to about it. Well, Ethan knows someone.” “Who?” “Reverend Gerard.” “I’m through with reverends and all so-called religious people.” “He’s different, Jordan. You know that. You saw him on TV.” “Yeah, right. I’ve seen what religious people are like. They can all rot in hell.” “Jordan, I know you’re upset, but it isn’t right to judge a whole group by a few people. Not all of ‘em are bad, just some. You’re stereotyping. You know how wrong that is. You, of all people, should know that.” “Yeah, I know...it’s just that it hurts. It’s like...I dunno. It’s like picking up a mug and expecting it to be filled with hot cocoa, but instead you get a big swig of vinegar—or strychnine. It’s religious people who did this,” he said, nodding toward Ross, lying there still as death itself. “Will you talk to him? You’ve heard what Ethan said about him. You were impressed with him yourself not so long ago. He’s really cool. He’s not like most reverends at all. He’s a friend of Ethan’s. I hate to see you like this, Jordan, you seem all lost and confused. You’re filled with hate. It’s eating you up. I can’t take seeing you in pain like this. I’m worried about you.”

Jordan just shook his head. He was stubborn. It would have pissed me off if I hadn’t been so worried about him. He knew Reverend Gerard was one of the good guys. I had to find some way of getting Jordan to talk to him. I spoke with Ross’ parents and they talked to Jordan. He was adamant about not leaving Ross’ side, but then they told him they were pulling the plug; they were going to let Ross die. Jordan pleaded and begged and they cut a deal; the plug would not be pulled on Ross before Jordan returned. They would delay doing it, if he consented to do as I asked. I have no doubt that’s the only reason he agreed to meet with Reverend Gerard— he was buying time, hoping against hope that somehow Ross would live. I pitied him and thanked God that Ross’ parents were willing to postpone the inevitable to help their son’s friend. I hoped talking to Reverend Gerard would do him some good. At the very least, it would get Jordan out of that hospital room. He was slowly dying in there. I helped Jordan to pack a small bag and then packed one of my own. We departed under the watchful gaze of Mike, Kip, and Sam. I smiled for a moment as I thought of how Ross would have teased Jordan about his wall of bodyguards; he’d have said something about the entourage of the Prince of Rock and Roll. Pain stabbed into my heart; I missed my friend. I prayed that Reverend Gerard could reach Jordan, for it seemed I could not. I loved Jordan more than anything and when he hurt, so did I—seeing him lose

all hope and faith tore into my heart. I knew that he was surely in as much danger as Ross.

Jordan It was a sober meeting when the car pulled into the Selby Farm. Ethan, Nathan, and Nick came out to meet us. They each hugged me and told me how very sorry they were. Nick was in tears and Ethan told me later he had been for days. I remembered what had passed between him and Ross and I knew it was more than merely physical. Their words of consolation did not affect me. I felt that I’d ceased to live. I could feel myself dying from the inside and I impatiently waited until at last I could escape my tortured existence. There was nothing left for me in this life. I hated the thought of leaving Ralph, but he’d know sorrow whether I lived or died. Nothing mattered, not anymore. I gave Ralph a weak smile as we walked into the farmhouse, but it was a smile I didn’t feel. All emotion except for anger, depression, and sadness had left me. The day of our arrival passed in a blur. My only thoughts were of Ross and whether or not he still lived. His parents had promised me they wouldn’t pull the plug on him while I was gone. Indeed, it was the only reason I’d agreed to come on this fool’s errand—to buy some time and hope for a miracle. I knew it was a vain hope, however, even if Ross’ parents had lied to me and pulled the plug while I was gone, it’d make little difference. I knew in my heart he’d never awaken

again. Some little part of me still hoped beyond hope and so I held on. I knew I was a fool for allowing such hope, but I had nothing left. The next day, Ethan and Ralph waited in the truck as I walked into a little chapel called “Patoka Grove Church.” My bodyguards were near, but unobtrusive. The church was a small frame structure painted white, with a little bell tower above. I nervously opened the door, not sure of what I’d find inside. Ethan had assured me that Reverend Gerard was cool. I’d been impressed when I saw him defending gays on TV, but I had my reservations. I’d been disappointed in religious men before and I no longer trusted any of them. At one time, I’d believed in God and Angels and the goodness of mankind, but repeated disappointment had battered me into a state of disbelief and confusion. What’d happened to Ross was the last straw. There was obviously no God—for if He existed, He wouldn’t let things happen, like those that had happened to Ross. My faith had faltered. People like Reverend Wellerson and his hired gunman had damaged it beyond repair. My eyes widened slightly when I laid eyes on Reverend Gerard. He didn’t meet my expectations at all. He wasn’t wearing one of those black suits that preachers always seemed to wear, the kind he’d worn on TV. He was dressed in jeans, a white polo shirt, and sneakers. He looked like he was dressed to go to the grocery or something. His shirt was even wrinkled. He didn’t look like a reverend at all.

“Jordan,” he said when he noticed my presence, “I’m glad you could come. Ethan and Nathan have told me quite a bit about you. Of course, I knew a little already from watching MTV and the news, but I suspect not all they say is true.” He smiled. I was taken aback, a preacher who watched MTV? “Hi,” I said. “Ethan’s told me about you, too. He thought I should talk to you.” “He’s very worried about you, Jordan. He loves you a great deal, almost as if you were his son.” “I love him, too,” I said. Reverend Gerard smiled again. “I’m so sorry to hear about what happened to your friend.” “Save your words of consolation. They won’t undo what has been done. I should be lying in that bed instead of Ross.” My tone was more bitter than Reverend Gerard deserved, but I didn’t care. I was past caring. He acted as if he took no notice. “You cannot blame yourself for what happened, Jordan.” “So I’ve been told, but in the end it doesn’t matter. The world is nothing but a cruel and evil place. We all end up dead. The only question is how much pain we must suffer before we’re released from this tortured existence.” I was sorry I’d come. It was a mistake. I wanted nothing more than to just get out of there. Reverend Gerard seemed like a nice guy, but the whole world

seemed fake to me. Wellerson was a fake. A lot of people who tried to be my friend were fakes. Everybody wanted something. Reverend Gerard calmly peered at me and motioned to a pew. “Tell me what’s on your mind, Jordan,” said the Reverend as he sat in the front pew. I thought of just telling him to go to hell, but something held me back— perhaps it was his demeanor, perhaps it was because he was Ethan’s friend. I knew he couldn’t help me; he couldn’t make the pain of the world go away. I’d come a long way to speak with him, however, and I’d promised Ralph. I didn’t want to talk to him, but I’d given my word. I didn’t want to be a fake too. I took a seat near him, facing him. Since I had no choice, I decided I might as well talk. “I feel like...like I can’t count on anything. I used to feel like I kind of understood things. There were good people and bad people. There was right and wrong. I had faith in God—faith that everything would eventually be okay, but now I don’t feel that. I just look around me and there’s all this pain. I mean, until recently, my life was pretty good. It was almost like living a dream sometimes. I did exactly what I wanted to be doing. I had money and fame. I had Ralph, who I loved with all my heart—and I had Ross and Kieran, too. Now I’m losing it all. Ross is taking it with him as he lies there dying in his bed. “Even if none of this had happened, there’s so much pain in the world. There are so many others out there who don’t have what I’ve had. There are people who go

to bed hungry. There are little kids that get cancer and AIDS. There are boys that get beat up just because they’re gay. I always believed that God loved everyone, that He was all-powerful, but when I look around, what I’m seeing doesn’t match that. How can He love everyone and be able to do anything He wants and let stuff go on like it does? Why does He allow cancer to exist, or any disease for that matter? Why does He let people starve, or freeze to death? Why does anyone have to be in pain? It doesn’t make sense!” My lip began to tremble, “Why did He let Ross get shot? Why?” “You sure don’t ask easy questions, do you?” said Reverend Gerard without a smile. “You’re wrestling with questions and doubts that many before you have struggled with. I wish I could give you an easy and precise answer, but I can’t. I don’t have all the answers. Think about this, though; what if God took diseases away? What if He made sure everyone had enough to eat? What if He made it impossible for anyone to hurt anyone else, or for anyone to be hurt, period? What if He took care of us, like a mother for her child, protected us from all harm, and did everything for us? There would be nothing left for us to do. There wouldn’t really be a life for us to lead. We’d be without purpose.” I could hear his words, but they wouldn’t bring back Ross. They wouldn’t undo the pain of the world. “What’s the most important thing in your life?” “Ralph.”

“Why?” “Because I love him and he loves me. We’re there for each other. When one of us is having a hard time, the other steps in and helps. If one of us needs to be held, the other is there to do it.” “If God did everything for you, you wouldn’t need to be there for each other, would you?” “I guess not.” “A lot of what is special between you wouldn’t even exist. Perhaps you wouldn’t even love each other, for you’d have no needs. And Ross? What of your relationship with him? You were there for each other, too, weren’t you? Do you think the two of you would have been so close if you had not suffered through trials and tribulations? Do you see what I’m getting at?” “I think so. But...” “What else is important to you?” “My music.” “Why?” “It’s...it’s what I am. When I’m writing lyrics or working out a song, or singing, I feel like...like I’m really being me. I feel like I can fly. When I sing, there are all these people and they’re screaming and shouting and smiling, because my music makes them happy. I’ve had all these people tell me that listening to my music helps them to forget when things aren’t going so well. It makes them happy.”

“If God did all that you’d like him to do, there wouldn’t be much need for your music, would there?” “I guess not. I guess people would still listen, but it wouldn’t mean as much.” “Exactly.” I thought in silence for a few moments, watching the bright sunlight illuminate the stained glass windows. I inhaled the scent of candles and polished wood. This was what a church was supposed to feel like. I knew Reverend Gerard’s words should have brought me comfort, but my heart felt as if it were made of ice. Nothing mattered, because Ross was lying in that bed dying. It negated everything. I was going to lose Ross, just like I’d lost my dad. The reverend’s words couldn’t change that. Reverend Gerard was a kind man, and a good one, but his words didn’t take away my pain. They did not explain why God was allowing Ross to be taken from me, nor why my own father had been ripped from my life before I was even born. There was no God—it was the only explanation really. It was the only possibility that explained why the world was such a horrible, horrible place. *** I waited until Ralph fell asleep, and then slipped quietly out of bed. I dressed, then gazed at him for a few moments.

“I’m sorry, Ralph,” I whispered, “but it will be better this way.” I slipped out into the hall. Mike was dozing in a chair. I felt guilty for drugging his coffee, but I knew I’d never make it past him if he were conscious. He’d awaken in a few hours and he’d be fine. It would be too late for him to stop me then. I slipped away from the house, avoiding the other guards. I knew I’d only get one shot at this. If I failed, they’d lock me away. I wasn’t going to fail, however, I was determined to succeed. A cold rain began to fall as I walked toward town. It was January and had to be just about freezing. The rain quickly penetrated my shirt and soaked me to the bone. The physical discomfort didn’t matter—it was nothing compared to the pain I felt inside. Soon, all the pain would be gone. I’d fall asleep and slip into oblivion. I had no fear of punishment for taking my own life, for there was no God, no one to judge me. I’d cheat all those that hated me and wanted to watch me die. I’d fix it so they could never hurt me again. Those around me would be safe. No one else would accidentally be shot down by an assassin with bad aim. My legs were weary as I passed the high school. I trudged on to the soccer fields beyond. My shoes squished with each step and freezing water swirled around my toes. I was growing numb. I felt as if I were already dying—just like Ross. I could almost feel him calling me, pulling me towards death.

I found the soccer goal. I looked at the rain pelting the mud at the base of the post. This is where my dad had died, and Mark after him. It seemed fitting that I die here, too. It was the family curse. With my own death the story would end, the last chapter would be written. I’d be erased from the world. I shed a tear, but not for myself. I thought of Ralph and the life I wouldn’t have with him. It was better this way, though. Ralph would lose me one way or another. It was better to get it over with now—better for him to merely be told I’d died, than to have to watch me be gunned down in the street. There was no reason to postpone the inevitable pain. I thought of Ross lying there in a coma, slowly dying. He’d been so filled with life. He not only lived it, he devoured it. He lived like his ass was on fire—as Chad would say. He brought joy to all those around him. He was such a nut he could make anyone smile. Now he was lying in the hospital, the life sucked out of him by a bullet that was meant for me. I was the one who should die, not him. Soon, I’d remedy that. I pulled the bottle of Valium from my pocket. This was how my dad had gone. This was how I’d follow. Like father, like son. As I opened the lid, a light began to grow in the inky darkness. At first it was the smallest pinprick of brilliant white light, but then it expanded, blinding me, illuminating the soccer field as if a star had descended upon it, brighter than bright. The intensity of the light lessened so that I could fully open my eyes once more.

Before me, barely five feet away stood a being of luminescence—an Angel. But I didn’t believe in Angels anymore. Religion had failed me. The pure white light coalesced and the vision before me became as a human, or a being in human form, for never had such a human walked the face of the earth. Maybe I didn’t believe in them, but I must have been wrong—for before me stood what could be nothing other than an Angel. As my eyes adjusted to the light, I began to make out the features of the being who stood before me. My lower lip began to tremble and my heart ached. I felt like I was five years old again. For the longest time I just stared. I stood rooted to the spot, unable to move or even speak. I felt as if I were inside a dream and yet I knew I was fully awake. What I was seeing wasn’t even possible, but I was seeing it nonetheless. Finally, I was able to speak. “D-a-a-d-d-d!” I cried out, my voice breaking, tears streaming down my cheeks. “Dad?” Standing before me was a near mirror image of myself—somewhere between boy and man, with flowing blond hair and a beatific face. He was no ordinary boy, however, for he shone with a light that seemed to come from within—a pure white light. He was so beautiful that I almost could not bear to look upon him. He smiled at me, but then became stern. “Jordan,” he said, “you must not follow the path of darkness you have chosen to tread. You must turn from this path. You cannot take your own life. It is not time for you to go. Your task is not yet completed.”

I was so entirely overwhelmed that I could not speak for several moments. I felt as if I were in the midst of an impossible fantasy and yet my heart told me that all about me was real. At last, I found my voice, although I hardly knew where to begin. I stood there in indecision a few moments more before speaking. “But everything is ruined. For every step I push forward, others shove me back two. Everything I try to do is undone by others. I’ve accomplished nothing.” “You must open your eyes, Jordan, and see. Nothing has been ruined and you have accomplished much. You will accomplish much, much more, unless you cast your life away and abandon your mission.” “My mission?” “You were sent by God to fight the fight you are fighting—to be an example for others. Why do you think He has placed such tremendous fame and power in your hands? With great power comes great responsibility. It is for you to use to help others, as you have been doing so well until now.” I wanted to protest that God did not exist, but here was my own father standing before me, an Angel. If he was real, how then could I doubt the existence of God? “But there is so much pain and suffering in the world! Why is it allowed to exist? Why does God not stop it? No matter how hard I try, I can’t change it all!” “You are not expected to save the world, Jordan, only to help ease the pain in your own little corner of it. And do not think you are alone in this—others have been

sent to help you and still others are working to ease the suffering in their corners of the world—countless others. As for your other questions, they have already been answered.” “By who? What do you mean?” “Your path did not cross that of Reverend Gerard for nothing, Jordan. All that he told you is the truth.” “Is he an Angel too, then?” “He is a man, but he knows God far better than most.” “I...” Tears flooded my eyes. I was overwhelmed. I didn’t know what to say, or think. “There’s no point in it all. Ross is lying in a coma. He’s dying. He’ll never open his eyes again.” I started to sob, overwhelmed by grief, but my dad’s voice stopped me. “Do not be so sure of that, Jordan.” “But the doctors say there is no hope. They say that even if he did regain consciousness, which he won’t, he’ll never be able to walk or play or sing again. He’s as good as dead already. There’s no hope left.” “There is always hope, my son, and the doctors do not know everything.” “What are you saying?” My father paused for a few moments before speaking, as if he were communicating with someone without words. Was he speaking to God himself? At that moment, nothing would have surprised me. At last, he spoke again.

“In three days, Ross will open his eyes. He will laugh and talk. In four, he will rise from his bed and walk. In three months time, except for a small scar, it will be as if his injuries had never been.” “But how can you know this?” I asked, but then I knew. Doubt didn’t even have a chance to enter my mind. I was speaking with an Angel, of course, he knew. I did start sobbing then—bawling, but with relief rather than grief. I felt strong arms wrap around me and looked up into my father’s face. He was real. He was solid and warm. I lay my head upon his shoulder and cried. For so many long years I yearned for my dad to hold me—to just be with me. I raised my head as realization dawned on me. My dad smiled at me and nodded. I knew in my heart that he’d been with me all along—that there was never a moment when he wasn’t with me. Suddenly, death had no power and I knew no fear. “There’s so much I want to ask you,” I said. “What happens when we die? Is there really a Heaven? What’s God like? Is He a he or a she or what? What’s it all about? I mean, why are we all here? Why is there pain? Why...” Dad put his finger to my lips. He smiled. He was always smiling. “I’m afraid you’ll have to find your own answers to those questions. But I will tell you this: finding the answers is part of why you are here.” “I don’t understand,” I said, but it didn’t really matter. My whole heart was filled with joy. The world that had seemed so evil and bleak now seemed beautiful

and wonderful. It was as if it was transformed before my eyes, but it was I and not the world that had changed. “Are you happy, Dad? Are you okay?” This was the question that had always been in my heart. I’d forever yearned to just know that my daddy was okay. “I’m very happy, Jordan, now and always.” I started crying again, but that was okay too— everything was okay. “And Mark? I hope you don’t mind, but I think of him as my dad, too.” “He is your father as well, Jordan, and...see for yourself.” Mark was suddenly there before me, appearing so suddenly it was as if he’d always been there. He looked just like the photos I’d seen of him, only more beautiful and radiant. I didn’t speak, I just grabbed him and hugged him. Both my dads hugged me and each other. I felt as if I were standing in pure joy. They each kissed me on the forehead and I smiled at them, feeling like a little boy again—like their son. ”I know life has been hard on you in many ways, Jordan,” said my dad, “but Mark and I watch over you. Whenever you need us, we are there. Every time you’ve fallen and skinned your knee, we’ve been there with you. We were there the first time you touched a keyboard and the first time you played before a crowd. We’re with you during every concert and anytime you

are feeling lonely or sad. We’re with you always. Have you not felt it?” ”Yes,” I said, smiling. I could remember many, many times when I felt like my dad was hugging me or had his hand on my shoulder. I knew now that those feelings were real. ”You have a wonderful boyfriend, Jordan. We’re very proud of Ralph,” said my dad. “If for no other reason, you need to live for him. Don’t repeat my mistake. Do you really want to put Ralph through the same torment that I did Mark?” ”No,” I whispered hoarsely. I was suddenly very ashamed of myself for even thinking it. “You’ve been through a great deal,” said Mark. “Do not be too hard on yourself for your actions. There is purpose in all things.” I smiled at Mark. How was it possible that I now felt so wonderful when such a short time before I felt as if nothing would ever matter again? My father gazed at me smiling. “I’m very proud of you, Jordan, and I love you very much. Had I known you were coming, I would not have taken my own life, but all things are as they were meant to be.” I nodded. I understood. I didn’t know how I perceived everything so clearly, but that didn’t matter. “We must go and so must you,” said Dad after a few moments. “But...”

“You must be there when Ross awakens and you must return to Ralph and those who love you. You absence brings them pain—they are very concerned about you.” “Will I see you again?” I asked. “We’ll always be with you,” said Dad, “and you may see us again, but if not, just remember, we’re always by your side.” I had no doubt it was true. My faith was complete. As I stood there, the Angels departed. I could hear someone calling my name and turned to see Ethan and Ralph running toward me. Ralph took me by the shoulders and pushed my wet hair out of my face. “Jordan? Jordan? Are you okay?” “Everything is okay now,” I said and smiled. Ralph searched my eyes with his own. I grinned at him and nodded my head. He wrapped his arms around my neck and placed his nose against my own. I could feel his sweet breath upon me. He kissed me. I let Ethan put his coat over my shoulders and guide me back to the truck. I knew I must’ve been near freezing, but I felt as warm as if I was standing in summer sunshine. It was as if there was a sun inside my chest. Ethan gazed at me quizzically and smiled. I had a feeling he somehow knew what had just happened. Ralph was crying, but from relief rather than sadness. His tears were a reminder, however, of the pain I’d almost caused him.

I looked back at the soccer goal as the truck pulled away. The rain still fell down upon it in the darkness. The sight was no longer gloomy and sad for I knew in my heart that all was well and that everything would be okay in the end. *** Ralph and I entered the hospital room. Ross was lying in his bed, looking unchanged since the moment I’d left. The sight no longer filled me with despair; however, for I had no doubt he’d be back to his old self in no time at all. I cracked a smile as I thought about how Ross would undoubtedly be terrorizing the hospital staff in just a few short hours. I could almost see him racing wheel chairs in the halls. I pitied his parents when they walked into the room an hour later. They looked gaunt, lost, grief-stricken, and hopeless. I felt for them, but I couldn’t help but be happy, for I knew that their sorrow would soon disappear. Maybe that’s how God could let apparently bad things happen, because He knew all would be well in the end. It was something to think about in any case. Ross’ parents spoke to me quietly as Ralph and I kept vigil over Ross with them. They told me they’d decided to pull the plug on his life support the next day at noon. A few short days before, I would’ve fought their decision tooth and nail and begged them to reconsider. There was no need for that now, however, for the time

for Ross to awaken was near. I could feel it. Dad said Ross would open his eyes in three days time and three days had nearly passed. I could hardly contain myself. I felt as I did when I had a gift to give someone—a gift I knew would bring them great pleasure. I couldn’t wait. I took Ross’ hand and leaned over him, smiling. As I did so, Ross stirred. His eyes opened and he giggled. “I was expectin’ to see an Angel and this is what I get?” I shook my head. Ross’ parents rushed to his side, touching him and fussing over him. Ralph was crying tears of relief, as he looked on shocked. I had not yet shared with him what had happened on the soccer field. I felt like Christmas morning had just come and I’d received the greatest gift of all. I raised my eyes heavenward and mouthed a silent “thank you.” My father’s words had come true and I had no doubt that all he’d told me would come to pass—my faith was complete. I wrapped my arm around Ralph’s waist as we watched Ross and his parents. Ralph turned to me and we kissed. “Ugh! You’re like rabbits!” said Ross, “Why don’t you two get a room?” “I’m gonna kick your ass when you get better, you know that, don’t you, Ross?” I said. “Let’s go now wimp!” said Ross, rising up. His Mom pressed him gently, but firmly back down. “You’re not going anywhere just yet, young man.”

“Mom!” Ralph and I laughed. “I think we should do what Ross said,” I told Ralph. “Let’s get a room.” “Oh yeah, Baby!” said Ralph. We turned and walked toward the door. “I’m expecting some really nice get well presents!” Ross yelled after us. I shook my head and walked on. No doubt about it, Ross was going to be fine.

Epilogue Three months later, it was just as Dad had said—except for a small scar, there was no indication that Ross had ever been shot in the head. In fact, it was hard to believe he’d ever lain silent in a coma. It was hard to believe he’d ever been silent in his entire life. “There it is,” I said, as the limo pulled up in front of the Potter-Bailey Gay Youth Center. Ralph squeezed my hand. “It’s big,” said Ross. We sat and waited while Mike and the other bodyguards secured the immediate area. There’d been no more death threats, but Mike wasn’t taking any chances. He’d reluctantly agreed to Kieran, Ross, and I attending the dedication of the center only because he knew I was determined to be there. I turned my head and gazed at the limo behind us. I couldn’t see through the tinted glass, but Ethan, Nathan, Sean, and Nick were inside. I knew this day meant as much to Ethan and Nathan as it did to me. My dad and his boyfriend had died because of the prejudice of Verona, but now this town would be a source of hope. Ross, Kieran, and I, along with several other donors, had not only paid for the center, but had endowed it so that it could keep on going long after we were all gone. The endowment was set up so that only 70% of the interest was used to keep the center going and that

would be plenty. The principle would never be touched. Out of the remaining interest, 15% would be added to an existing fund (started by Ethan and Nathan not long after my father’s death) that provided gay boys with college scholarships. It was already a sizable fund and the 15% would make it grow faster still. The remaining 15% was dumped back into the endowment, increasing it in size so that inflation would never weaken it. We couldn’t foresee every problem the future might hold, but I think we’d planned well. I thought of how Wellerson had tried to shut down the gay youth center in Verona. Instead, he’d been the impetus for making it strong and permanent. It was comforting to know that even evil deeds could be turned to good. A hefty settlement from a civil suit against Wellerson and the F.A.F. was going to the center, too. It seemed especially just that money earmarked for evil purposes would instead be used to help gay youth. The new center was complete and Reverend Wellerson was behind bars, awaiting trial for attempted murder, among other things. The F.A.F. was under investigation for misuse of funds. The I.R.S. wasn’t taking kindly to non-taxable donations being used to hire hit men and run a smear campaign. If the F.A.F. remained in operation, which looked doubtful since Wellerson was likely headed for prison, it would almost certainly have its tax-exempt status stripped. It was ironic that the only center Wellerson would be shutting down was his own. When his illicit activities came to

light, his political support evaporated. It looked like the gay youth centers would be in no danger of losing their funding after all. Some religious fanatics from Wellerson’s group were vowing to continue the fight, but it was as if someone had come along and undone all their evil works. I had a feeling I knew exactly who that someone was—my dad. The funds we’d raised for the centers would be put to good use. Now that they weren’t so desperately needed, they’d go to expand services and enable centers to help in ways they hadn’t been able to help before. We’d raised nearly a million dollars with our benefit concert and all the donations that had come rolling in. The gay youth centers would be better off than they’d been in many a long year. There’d now be funds to open new centers in places where they hadn’t existed before. At last, Mike came back for us and led us toward a small stage erected for the occasion. I was expected to say a few words before the center was opened for the very first time and everyone went in for a tour and refreshments. I hadn’t prepared a speech, as I wanted to keep my words brief and to the point. I felt no fear as I stepped to the podium. I knew well that I might still be in danger. But, as my dad’s boyfriend, Mark, once wrote, “What is life without risk?” Nothing was going to hold me back on this day. “I want to welcome everyone to the dedication of the Potter-Bailey Gay Youth Center. Almost twenty years ago, two sixteen-year-old boys from Verona were driven to their deaths by hate, intolerance, and

prejudice. Their loss has a special meaning to me, because one of those boys was my dad and the other, had he lived, would no doubt have been as a father to me. I didn’t get the chance to know them because they were taken away from me—they were taken away from everyone and it was a great loss. Hate, intolerance, and prejudice should not be tolerated. There is no excuse for their existence, be it religious or otherwise. If your beliefs cause you to feel hatred in your heart towards others, then is it not your beliefs that need changing? Any religion or belief that preaches hate cannot be good. Hate kills. It’s as simple as that. “I’m very proud to dedicate this center today, not because it bears the name of my father, but because of the services it will provide, not only to gay youth, but to all who need help. This is a place where prejudice cannot exist and hate is not allowed. Any who need help may seek it here and there’ll always be a number that those in peril may call. I’m happy to dedicate this center because of the lives it will save and the lives it will improve. I thank you all for coming.” There were cheers from the crowd. I stepped down from the podium, wondering if I’d said enough— wondering if my words conveyed what I desired. I guess it didn’t really matter. All that mattered were the services the center would provide. I stepped inside for the very first time with Ralph, Kieran, and Ross. We were surrounded by well-wishers and people who just wanted our autographs. I knew that a lot of people had probably shown up just to see us,

but that was okay too. If they had no reservations about entering a gay youth center to meet us, then I appreciated their understanding. Mike and the other bodyguards watched the crowd like hawks, but no one made a belligerent move. I smiled to see Hunter there. I’d not had much time to chat with him online, but he didn’t seem to mind. I wished I’d have more time to chat with him in the near future, but we’d already pushed back our appearances and the tour so Ross could recuperate. In just two days we’d be setting out to do a round of talk shows and then it was on to our tour. Maybe someday things would slow down, but, for now, our lives proceeded at a hectic pace. I wouldn’t have had it any other way. There was far too great a crowd for us to actually tour the center, so I decided to wait until it closed for the day. Ethan, Nathan, Nick, and Sean were there and I asked them to stay behind. While we waited, I got a chance to talk with Brendan and Casper once again. When the doors were closed and locked, Ethan brought two handsome men of his own age to meet me. To my utter delight, I discovered they were Brandon and Jon, my father’s friends who had stood up for him all those years ago. They’d both come from far away to be here on this day. Brandon gawked at me then turned back to Ethan. “I told you. Uncanny, isn’t it?” said Ethan. I had no doubt they were talking about how much I looked like my dad.

”I’m very glad to meet you, Jordan,” said Brandon, shaking my hand and still looking at me in wonder. “And I’m very pleased to meet both of you,” I said, shaking his hand, then Jon’s. “I’ve read my father’s journal. I’m sure he appreciated what you did for him very, very much and I’m eternally grateful.” Brandon had tears in his eyes, as did Jon. They both hugged me. “I’d love to talk to you both later about my dad,” I said. “Why don’t we all head back to the farm once we’re done here?” asked Ethan. Everyone agreed that it was a wonderful idea. At last, we were able to look around the center. On the first floor there were offices for counselors, a room with phones for the twenty-four hour crisis line (already manned and ready), a large reception area, meeting rooms, a lounge, a library, a kitchen, and a large living room with a big screen TV, DVD, and more. In the basement was a game room and the second floor had rooms where troubled youth could stay for a while. We all gathered around the large display case in the reception area. There was dad’s soccer uniform that grandmother had given me, as well as photos and other memorabilia of Taylor and Mark. “I remember that day,” said Brandon, looking at the photo of himself, Taylor, Mark, Ethan, Nathan, and Jon all standing, smiling and shirtless. “Remember when we went to the water park, Jon?”

“Oh yeah, that was the day Mark and Tay kicked Ethan’s ass.” “Hey! It was two against one!” said Ethan. He had his arm around Nathan. The guys laughed. It made me feel warm inside to see old friends reliving the days of their youth. There was a touch of sadness in my heart, too, for my dad and Mark weren’t there. That sadness was short-lived, however, for I had no more worries about my father and I was wrong anyway—Dad and Mark were there. They were always with me. There was a knock on the glass door and I turned to see my grandparents. Mike unlocked it and let them in. Brandon and Jon seemed surprised when I hugged them both. Apparently they recognized them as Taylor’s parents, even though many long years had passed. I knew they were coming to the dedication, but I’d lost track of them. They had an elderly lady with them who looked to be near grandmother’s age, but more frail. Tears welled up in her eyes as she gazed at me. “Jordan,” said grandmother, “I’d like you to meet Mrs. Bailey, Mark’s mother.” I swallowed hard. I’d suspected who she might be when I saw her with my grandparents, but I was far from sure. She’d refused to see me when I visited Verona before. I was so happy I couldn’t contain myself, however, and I stepped forward and hugged her. To my surprise, she hugged me back. She was

crying too much for words to come, but I knew we’d have time to talk about a lot of things. I felt as if my family was complete at last, now that my other grandmother had joined us. All of us traveled to Ethan and Nathan’s farm, my three grandparents included, and sat around the kitchen table, sipping tea, nibbling on home baked cookies, and talking about times long gone. I learned more about my dad that night than I’d known before. I was surrounded by those who knew him and loved him—even his own parents. Long years had passed since his death and all was forgiven. I felt that I could finally rest easy with my past. I don’t want to say that we all lived happily ever after, because real life isn’t like that. Ralph and Ross and I, and all the others, aren’t done living either. Hopefully, we have a lot of years ahead. Whether or not that’s true doesn’t matter, because I know that no matter what happens, all will be well in the end. I know it’s true, because my dad told me so.

“I Want You To Want Me” — Cheap Trick words and music by Rick Nielsen. (c) 1977, 1978 Screen Gems-EMI Music Inc. and Adult Music.

Information on Mark’s upcoming books can be found at markroeder.com. Those wishing to keep in touch with others who enjoy Mark’s novels can join his fan club at http://groups.yahoo.com/group/markaroederfans.

Other Books by Mark A. Roeder Listed in Suggested Reading Order Outfield Menace Outfield Menace is the tale of Kurt, a fifteen-year-old baseball player, living in a small, 1950s, Indiana town. During a confrontation with Angel, the resident bad boy of Blackford High School, Kurt attacks Angel, earning the wrath of the most dangerous gang in town. When Angel finally corners Kurt, however, something happens that Kurt wouldn’t have imagined in his wildest dreams. As the murder of a local boy is uncovered, suspicion is cast upon Angel, but Kurt has learned there’s more to Angel than his bad boy image. Angel has a secret, however, that could get both Kurt and himself killed. Outfield Menace is a story of friendship, love, adventure, and perilous danger. Snow Angel Angel rescued his boyfriend, Kurt, from a hellish existence, but at the cost of exiling himself from his hometown of Blackford, Indiana. Fifteen-years-old and on the run, Angel must make his way until he can fulfill his promise to return to Kurt. Along the way he faces loneliness, hardships, and a brutal blizzard, but makes new friends and finds acceptance he didn’t expect.

Kurt’s life is nearly back to normal, but the love of his life is gone. Kurt is determined not to let Angel’s sacrifice be in vain, but how can he wait three long years for the return his boyfriend had promised him? What will happen when they are reunited at last? Can they be together, or will Kurt and Angel have to run for their lives? Snow Angel is a tale of lovers parted, of survival, and a love that cannot be diminished by distance or time. Ancient Prejudice Break to New Mutiny Mark is a boy who wants what we all want: to love and be loved. His dreams are realized when he meets Taylor, the boy of his dreams. The boys struggle to keep their love hidden from a world that cannot understand, but ultimately, no secret is safe in a small Mid-western town. Ancient Prejudice is a story of love, friendship, understanding, and an age-old prejudice that still has the power to kill. It is a story for young and old, gay and straight. It reminds us all that everyone should be treated with dignity and respect and that there is nothing greater than the power of love. The Soccer Field Is Empty The Soccer Field Is Empty is a revised and much expanded edition of Ancient Prejudice. It is more than 50% longer and views events from the point of view of Taylor, as well as Mark. There is so much new in the

revised edition that it is being published as a separate novel. Soccer Field delves more deeply into the events of Mark and Taylor’s lives and reveals previously hidden aspects of Taylor’s personality. Authors note: I suggest readers new to my books start with Soccer Field instead of Ancient Prejudice as it gives a more complete picture of the lives of Mark and Taylor. For those who wish to read the original version, Ancient Prejudice will remain available for at least the time being. Someone Is Watching It's hard hiding a secret. It's even harder keeping that secret when someone else knows. Someone Is Watching is the story of Ethan, a young high school wrestler who must come to terms with being gay. He struggles first with himself, then with an unknown classmate that hounds his every step. While struggling to discover the identity of his tormentor, Ethan must discover his own identity and learn to live his life as his true self. He must choose whether to give up what he wants the most, or face his greatest fear of all. A Better Place High school football, a hospital of horrors, a long journey, and an unlikely love await Brendan and Casper as they search for a better place...

Casper is the poorest boy in school. Brendan is the captain of the football team. Casper has nothing. Brendan has it all: looks, money, popularity, but he lacks the deepest desire of his heart. The boys come from different worlds, but have one thing in common that no one would guess. Casper goes through life as the “invisible boy”; invisible to the boys that pick on him in school, invisible to his abusive father, and invisible most of all to his older brother, who makes his life a living hell. He can’t believe his good luck when Brendan, the most popular boy in school, takes an interest in him and becomes his friend. That friendship soon travels in a direction that Casper would never have guessed. A Better Place is the story of an unlikely pair, who struggle through friendship and betrayal, hardships and heartbreaks, to find the desire of their hearts, to find a better place. Someone Is Killing The Gay Boys of Verona Someone is killing the gay boys of Verona, Indiana, and only one gay youth stands in the way. He finds himself pitted against powerful foes, but finds allies in places he did not expect. A brutal murder. Gay ghosts. A Haunted VictorianMansion. A cult of hate. A hundred year old ax murder. All this, and more, await sixteen-year-old Sean as he delves into the supernatural and races to discover the murderer before he strikes again.

Someone is Killing the Gay Boys of Verona is a supernatural murder mystery that goes where no gay novel has set foot before. It is a tale of love, hate, friendship, and revenge. The Vampires Heart Ever wonder what it would be like to be fifteen-yearsold forever? Ever wonder how it would feel to find out your best friend is not what he seems? Graham Granger is intrigued by the new boy in school. Graham’s heart aches for a friend, and maybe a boyfriend, but is Josiah the answer to his dreams? Why is Bry Hartnett, the school hunk, taking an interest in Graham as well? When strange happenings begin to occur at Griswold Jr./Sr. High, Graham’s once boring life becomes more exciting than he can handle. Mystery, intrigue, and danger await Graham as he sets out on an adventure he never dreamed possible. Keeper of Secrets Sixteen-year-old Avery is in trouble, yet again, but this time he’s in over his head. On the run, Avery is faced with hardships and fear. He must become what he’s always hated, just to survive. He discovers new reasons to hate, until fate brings him to Graymoor Mansion and he discovers a disturbing connection to the past. Through the eyes of a boy, murdered more than a century before, Avery discovers that all is not as he

thought. Avery is soon forced to face the greatest challenge of all; looking into his own heart. Sean is head over heels in love with his new boyfriend, Nick. There is trouble in paradise, however. Could a boy so beautiful really love plain, ordinary Sean? Sean cannot believe it and desperately tries to transform himself into the ideal young hunk, only to learn that it’s what’s inside that matters. Keeper of Secrets is the story of two boys, one a gay youth, the other an adolescent gay basher. Fate and the pages of a hundred year old journal bring them together and their lives are forever changed.

Do You Know That I Love You The lead singer of the most popular boy band in the world has a secret. A tabloid willing to tell all turns his world upside down. In Do You Know That I Love You, Ralph, a young gay teen living on a farm in Indiana, has an aching crush on a rock star and wants nothing more than to see his idol in concert. Meanwhile, Jordan, the rock star, is lonely and sometimes confused with his success, because all he wants is someone to love him and feels he will never find the love he craves. Do You Know is the story of two teenage boys, their lives, desires, loves, and a shared destiny that allows them both to find peace.

Masked Destiny Masked Destiny is the story of Skye, a high school athlete determined to be the Alpha male. Skye’s obsessed with his own body, his Abercrombie & Fitch wardrobe, and keeping those around him in their place. Try as he might, he’s not quite able to ignore the world around him, or the plight of gay boys that cross his path. Too frightened of what others might think, Skye fails to intervene when he could have saved a boy with a single word. The resulting tragedy, wise words for a mysterious blond boy, and a unique opportunity combine to push Skye toward his destiny. Oliver is young, a bit pudgy, and interested in little more than his books and possibly his first kiss. As he slowly gains courage, he seeks out the friendship of Clay, his dream boy, in hopes they will become more than friends. Oliver is sought out in turn by Ken, who warns him Clay is not at all what he seems, but Ken, too, has his secrets. Oliver must choose between them and discovers danger, a link to boys murdered in the recent past, and the answers to secrets he’d never dreamed. Altered Realities Marshall only wanted to help his friends, to undo the pain of the past, but a few moments of thoughtless action changed everything. Altered Realities is the tale of a changed world. All bets are off. Nothing is as it was and what is to be is transformed too. Mark, Taylor, Ethan, Nathan, Brendan, Casper and nearly the entire

cast of the Gay Youth Chronicles come together in a tapestry of tales as they all try to deal with the consequences of Marshall’s actions. The road to hell is paved with good intentions. Dead Het Boys Marshall’s experiences with ghosts and the supernatural are legendary, but when a boy a hundred-years dead turns up in his bedroom with the cryptic message “Blackford Manor,” Marshall realizes his adventures with the other side have only began. As more specters appear to Marshall, he begins to assemble the pieces of a puzzle that lead him to Graymoor Mansion and a set of crimes more heinous than those of modern day serial killers. Just over a year ago, Sean’s best friend, Marty, was murdered and Sean narrowly escaped the same fate. Now, the evil four, a group of boys who were involved with the death of Marty, have returned. Sean, Skye, and the other gay boys of Verona can do little more than watch and wait for the terror to begin again. Soon, Skye learns of a psychopathic homophobe who is in league with his enemies. Things take a curious turn, however, when one of the evil four is brutally murdered. Suspicion turns to Skye. Has he finally gone too far to protect his friends? Skye isn’t the only one with a motive, however. All the gay boys of Verona are suspect. This time around, the shoe is on the other foot.

This Time Around What happens when a TV evangelist struggles to crush gay rights? Who better to halt his evil plans than the most famous rock star in the world? This Time Around follows Jordan and Ralph as they become involved in a struggle with Reverend Wellerson, a TV evangelist, over the fate of gay youth centers. Wellerson is willing to stop at nothing to crush gay rights and who better to halt his evil plans than the most famous rock star in the entire world? While battling Wellerson, Jordan seeks to come to terms with his own past and learn more about the father he never knew. The excitement builds when an assassin is hired and death becomes a real possibility for Jordan and those around him. Jordan is forced to face his own fears and doubts and the battle within becomes more dangerous than the battle without. Will Jordan be able to turn from the path of destruction, or is he doomed to follow in the footsteps of his father? This time around, things will be different. The Summer of My Discontent The Summer of My Discontent is a tapestry of tales delving into life as a gay teen in a small Midwestern town. Dane is a sixteen-year-old runaway determined to start a new life of daring, love, and sex—no matter the cost to himself, or others. His actions bring him to the brink of disaster and only those he sought to prey upon can

save him. Among Dane’s new found “friends” are a young male prostitute and the local grave robber who becomes his despised employer. The boys of A Better Place are back—Ethan, Nathan, Brendan, and Casper are once again dealing with trouble in Verona, Indiana. Drought and circumstance threaten their existence and they struggle together to save themselves from blackmail, financial collapse, and temptation. Brendan must cope with anonymity after being one of the most popular boys in school. Casper must face his own past—the loss of his father and the fate of his abusive brother, who is locked away in the very hospital of horrors from which Brendan escaped. Letters from his brother force Casper to question his feelings—is Jason truly a monster or can he change? Dark, foreboding, and sexy—The Summer of My Discontent is the tale of gay teens seeking to find themselves, each other, and a better place. Disastrous Dates & Dream Boys Disastrous Dates & Dream Boys is the story of teenaged boys who want what we all want, to love and be loved. The boys from A Better Place are back. Shawn yearns for a boyfriend, but fears his father’s wrath if he discovers the truth. Dane, too, is seeking a soul mate and trying to leave his checkered past behind. He yearns for Billy, but if he approaches him will the result be happiness or disaster? Brendan has created a

new life for himself and his boyfriend, Casper, but what happened in his old hometown haunts him and he realizes he must face his father if he is to ever be at peace. Nathan also has issues to resolve with the parents who gave him and his little brother up far too easily. Disastrous Dates & Dream Boys is a tale of fathers & sons, lovers & friends, and above all love and understanding. Phantom World Toby Riester is sixteen, gay, and searching for his first boyfriend. He discovers many potential candidates— Orlando, a cute sixteen year old boy of Latin ancestry who works with Toby at the Phantom World amusement park—C.T., a blond, seventeen year old who is obviously gay—and Spike, a well-built sixteen year old from the internet. Each boy has his own seductive qualities and each is more than his seems. One of them, however, is far more dangerous than Toby ever guessed. Orlando finds himself a girlfriend at Phantom World, but that’s only the beginning of his story. When he meets his girlfriend’s twin brother, Kerry, his world is turned upside down. Mackenzie Riester is the athletic younger brother of Toby. He has little respect for his queer big brother and joins with his new found friend, Billy, in playing an elaborate practical joke on Toby that becomes more perilous than he ever dreamed.

Phantom World is the story of three very different boys—their triumphs, heartaches, and their search for love and acceptance. Second Star To The Right Cedi, a eighteen-year-old British import to the town of Blackford, Indiana, is determined to be a rock star. No one quite knows what to make of the new wild boy in town with his blue hair and overpoweringenthusiasm—not the jocks he torments in revenge, nor his new friends Toby and Orlando. Cedi is certain of his future until his path crosses that of Thad, a tall, dark, older man who tells Cedi he has no talent. Cedi is infuriated, but intrigued. He becomes obsessed with Thad, who wants nothing to do with him. Cedi isn’t about to give up, however, and wedges his way into Thad’s life. Cedi finds himself caught between his love for Thad and his dream. Just when he has what he thinks he wants, his adventure truly begins... The Perfect Boy A specter from the past haunts the halls of Blackford High School, terrorizing anyone who preys on the weak. Rumors say that a Goth/skater boy controls the ghost, but can the rumor be true? A mysterious new boy catches the eye of Toby and his new friend, Daniel Peralta as well. The new boy seems too perfect to be real. Is he or will be become the boy of Toby’s or Daniel’s dreams?

Cedi is living his fantasy—touring with Phantom, the most popular band in the world. Cedi can’t quite forget Thad, the older, mysterious novelist he’s left behind, but is quickly pulled into a world of concerts, autograph signings, and press conferences. Cedi takes an interest in Ross. Ross has his own demons, however, that may forever prevent him from loving anyone but the man of his dreams. The Graymoor Mansion B&B Is turning a haunted mansion into a Bed & Breakfast such a good idea? Sean and his family think so, except for Avery, who believes guests will be scared away by disembodied voices, candles that light themselves, and the ghostly reenactment of the notorious Graymoor Ax Murders. When the gay boys of Verona went their separate ways, Verona was more at peace than it had been in ages. Skye, the local champion of gay boys, has been gone for five long years, however, and much has changed in his absence. Sean and Nick lived apart during their college years. They’ve eagerly anticipated their reunion, but what will happen when Ross, the drummer for Phantom, comes to stay at Graymoor with the band? Is Nick over his Ross obsession—or is there trouble ahead? Jordan and Ralph have long considered starting a family, but can they surmount the obstacles that stand in their way? The gay boys of Verona, old and new, are together once again.