"Marcus and Jennifer are here... Ummm...Miss Rhodes" "Show them in of course." I jumped to my feet as they were lead in. "Marcus, Jenny, It's so good ...o see you." I embraced them both and they greeted me with equal excitement. "Bring their things, Michael," I called behind them as I lead my friends into the office and let them sit. Marcus was a fine example of a man, blonde hair, blue eyes, tanned, toned, his white shirt open at the collar. Jennifer always looked sensational and clearly matched. Faces in toilets. Faces slammed into lockers. Wedgies. Purple nurples. Ears flicked. Seats yanked out.We rarely participated in such barbarism or fought or picked on others, but we would fight back when necessary, and we’d mostly lose, catch a beatdown.Because we were fags.Spazzes. Weirdos. Kids with fucked up haircuts, kids who wore out of fashion clothes, shopped at Goodwill stores and changed clothes when our clothes somehow became in fashion.We were fags.We read tattered secondhand sci-fi. I asked if he'd like lunch. He looked great in a pair of Dad's trunks, talked to me like a person, and had all the other hunk attributes I dreamed about. I didn't then know that he thought the same about me since he was two years ahead of me in school. I introduced him to Mom when she came home and I caught her giving him the once over.We ate by the pool and than sat to finish our iced tea. He said, "I think I'm intruding, but I like to talk to you." You're fine. Mom would have given me a. Watch your back" Dale dropped a gun on the bed.It was Saturday night special. A little silver .22 automatic; athrowaway.Cassie picked it up, ejected the magazine and jacked the action, deftlycatching the cartridge as it ejected."What do I do with this? It's got no stopping power" Cassie studied thelittle pistol."You're wearing that I take it?" Dale pointed to the red sheath eveninggown hanging up outside her wardrobe."You've got nowhere to hide a piece wearing that dress and your Glock istoo.
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