Brian slept like a log and was up at six. He put on a T-shirt, shorts and a pair of running shoes. On the drive to Rosie's he began to think that maybe he should find a place to live closer to work. Brian knew that if he said anything to Mark the boy would suggest he move in with them. Rosie had the space, but living there with Mark threw up all kinds of red flags.

If Rosie found out about them she would dismiss him in a minute, and then probably phone the cops. His current assessment was that she was a no-nonsense person. Yeah, he could count on it. As Brian drove closer to Rosie's he started looking for a nice condo development. With the salary figure Rosie had mentioned he could afford a great one.

Brian pulled into her driveway at exactly seven o'clock and was surprised to see Mark standing on the walkway doing stretching exercises. He smiled and continued to do side bends.

"Wow, I'm impressed," Brian said.

"Don't be. Rosie woke me at six and I stood under the shower for half an hour until my brain started working," Mark replied.

"Running will help you deal with the early hour, I promise. Once you get used to it the endorphins will cut loose in your bloodstream and you'll feel like a new man."

"Right now I feel like an old boy," Mark said, but he was smiling.

"Running increases my libido too, old boy. After I run ten miles I can have sex for hours," Brian said. This time it was his turn to give out an evil leer.

"I might have to check that out."

"Where's Rosie?" Brian asked.

"She's getting ready to go downtown," Mark said. "She's meeting with the lawyer about your contract. I think she wants you to move in with us."

"I appreciate her kindness but I think that's a bad idea and you know why. How could we ever have any privacy if I'm living here?"

"I agree. I told her you might want to maintain your own place, but she's still going to make the offer."

"Maybe I'll get a place closer to you. That way you can come over for script readings and blocking rehearsal," Brian said.

"That'll work. So how about we get this running thing over with," Mark suggested.

"I'll take it easy on you today, only five miles."

"Five miles?" Mark yelped. "I can't walk that far."

Brian started off down the driveway and followed the sidewalk towards the entrance to Rosie's development. He didn't tell Mark but he'd already driven the route and had mentally calculated off the five mile circuit they would travel.

Brian ran in circles at the stop light and then crossed the street on the green light with Mark right on his heels. Two blocks farther they came upon a small townhouse development. There was a sign for the office and Brian promised himself he would come back by here later.

Around an artificial lake with a fountain and they were at the one mile mark.

"Brian, slow down will you?" Mark yelled.

Brian had been pushing too hard, so he throttled back and ran beside Mark.

"I used to get up early and drive out to the valley a few years back. I loved to run through the orange groves and smell the sweet scent of the blossoms. Here in the city I get chased by dogs or almost get run over by assholes that drive through stoplights."

"How can you talk when you run," Mark panted, gasping between words.

"It's easy, you'll find out. Give me three months of this and I'll have you doing longer runs with ease. You're in good shape; at least you have a lovely ass. You just need practice."

"My ass needs practice? That's your department anyway." He tried to laugh at his joke but it came out with a gasp.

"Calm down. Think of every step as you put your feet down. We're running slowly, this is only a jog step, not a sprint. Count the steps in your head from one point to another, it helps pass the time." Three miles left to go. "We'll turn up here at the next corner and cross back to the other side."

As they passed by the lake once again, Brian saw that Mark understood that they were heading back to the house. They ran circles at the light and crossed back into the development. Instead of turning right to Rosie's, Brian turned left and took Mark around the block the long way. They hit four and three quarter miles and turned back down Rosie's street. Mark collapsed on the front lawn and stared up at him.

"I'm dying," he gasped.

"You need to get up and walk around before you cramp a muscle," Brian said, pulling the boy to his feet. "How about we get you some water?"

"Water? Who drinks water?"

"You will, at least eight large glasses a day from now on," Brian said. "And we'll cut back on the soda and other forms of refined sugar."

"No soda? What are you, a health freak?"

"No, old boy ... I'm a star maker. Your body and face are your money-makers. We just need to preserve the beauty you already have. As you grow older, a bad diet will make you put on weight and ruin your complexion. We can't have that now, can we?"

"I guess not," Mark said. "This is going to be hard, isn't it?"

"Not really. Just allow me to guide your appetite and your physical attributes. With plenty of exercise I promise your appetite will increase, it just has to be the right kind of food so you don't gain weight."

"Are you going to make me eat nothing but rabbit food?" Mark groaned.

"No way, but we are going to change your diet starting right now."

Brian led the way into the kitchen and found Rosie sitting with her morning coffee.

"You guys have a nice run?" She asked.

"I think so. We've come to inspect your pantry," Brian said.

"Brian says I have to watch my figure and my complexion," Mark explained.

"He's right you know," Rosie said. "Mark will eat anything if I let him."

They spent thirty minutes discussing proper nutrition until Brian was confident Rosie understood where he was headed. Mark ate a bowl of cereal, no sugar, and a banana for breakfast.

If anything this was going to be fun. It was as if Brian had a second chance at molding a body from youth to adulthood. He had been pudgy and destined for a life as a couch potato until his eighth grade physical education teacher decided the boy was his pet project.

Coach Peters got Brian focused on building muscle and looking like the athlete he was meant to be. And in the process they developed a physical attraction that was often consummated in his office after school was over for the day. Brian could easily understand why a relationship with Mark would allow him to relive those experiences, even though the roles were reversed.

Brian had done the early teenage fooling around when he was Mark's age, but he didn't have the courage to declare himself. High school had been different, but just as frustrating until ... until ...

Sophomore football camp. Brian was sixteen years old. He still remembered the struggle with his thoughts and what that had done to him. He'd idolized Brad Nelson since ninth grade. Brad was the reason he'd gone out for football that year. He had no hopes of becoming close to Brad; even a friendship would have meant the world, but seniors didn't seem to even notice sophomores.

They sweated together, ran laps and bled in practice, but Brad didn't seem to know Brian even existed. Those blond curls, the piercing blue eyes, the images he kept in his head all seemed to mock Brian. He was a faggot, a loser, things he heard other boys say at school. No, there was no way he could approach Brad, it would be suicide.

The final game was against Wilson, their greatest rivals. Brian had sat on the bench for most of the season; only the best players hit the field. Brian figured he was adequate at best. Injuries came and went ... it was a tough game. But there behind their offense Brad stood his ground like a rock, his passes right on target, his glory assured.

Brian could run, that was why he was there. They just needed to let him run. And then his chance came. Stevens was injured and came limping off the field. It was fourth quarter, forty-five seconds to go, and six points behind. The coach looked at his lineup, they were all boxed out, injured or damaged in some way ... he needed Brian to run.

Brian took to the field and joined the huddle. Brad gave him a grin. "New man, they won't suspect you," he panted. They were all tired ... all except Brian. "Crossover left, you take the ball, fake right."

Brian would be out there alone, the line shifting right in a fake, but he might-just might-have a clear shot at the goal line twenty yards away. The count, the snap and Brad stepped back as Brian came across behind him. Brad turned, fake pumped his arm and was pushed back by his own lineman. He miss-stepped and Brian watched him nearly lose the ball. By then Brian was past him and out of reach.

Brian sped about eight yards away and turned to look back just as Brad regained control of the ball. He looked at Brian and then looked up field, the cue was there. Brian took off running. Brad tossed the ball in his direction and went down under a pile of defenders.

The ball wobbled, nearly under-thrown, but like he'd been taught, Brian got under it and pulled it in. He could have sedately walked that last fifteen yards; there was no one between him and the goal. Instead he took off like a rocket to the roar of the home crowd.

The final score reflected his first and only touchdown, and after a long kick-off the Wilson team was nailed to the thirty yard line as the final whistle blew. Brian was virtually carried to the locker room. Brad hugged him; the whole team hugged him. It was wonderful, and in that moment of glory he was one of them, but Brad never spoke to him after that. Ungrateful bastard.

He ran into Brad over Christmas break. The sun was shining, the palm trees swaying in the breeze. Brad was dressed like Santa for his odd job with the department store. It seemed strange to have Santa hug him right there on the street, but then he could tell Brad had been drinking.

Brad threw an arm around him and dragged him towards the parking lot, friendship seemed in the offering, and yet Brian knew what the boy really needed was someone to hold him up until he got to his car.

"Christmas party ... Drank too much ... Good little elf," Brad said, patting Brian's head.

Brian knew the car, and he put Brad down on the passenger's seat. "Give me the keys," Brian said.

"Driving home," Brad said.

"No, you're not driving anywhere, I'm taking you," Brian said.

"Nobody home, they won't know." His speech was so slurred Brian could hardly understand him. He took the keys and got behind the wheel, looking down in dismay at the stick shift. Well, he'd driven one before ... once. He started the car and jerked it a bit, but then he was out of the lot and on the highway before remembering where Brad lived.

Brian had a provisional license and figured that Brad qualified as an adult in the car, drunk or not. They both lived in the valley, only Brad lived on the rich side. The house was hidden behind a dense growth of bushes, allowing Brian to pull the drunk from his car without the neighbors knowing.

Brad knew he was home and waved Brian off, before falling on the steps. Brian almost had to carry him through the front door. No stairs inside ... Brad's room was at the back. He stood in a drunken wobble as he tried to strip off the costume and Brian finally had to help. And when Brad finally stood in just his boxers with the Santa pants around his ankles he fell over on the bed and appeared to pass out.

Brian was tempted to leave him just like that, parents be damned. But he pulled off the boots and the pants, leaving Brad stretched out on his back. Yes, he'd seen the cock before in the showers, but he'd never touched it. Just a peek and a touch was all he wanted, something to tell himself he'd done it and nothing more.

He lifted the waistband of the boxers and grasped Brad's cock, holding the warm object in his hand for a minute. Enough, he'd done it and Brad was still out cold. Brian turned to leave and then stopped at the door. Shit, he was all the way over here in the wrong neighborhood, six miles from home at least.

"Ungrateful bastard, you owe me one," Brian said, and then he turned and walked out of the house.

The following day the phone rang and Brian happened to pick up.

"Brian? Is that you, new boy?" It was Brad.

"Yes, Brad ... what do you want?"

"It was you drove me home, thank you ... I love you for that, man. My dad would have killed me, taken the car away, something stupid like that anyway. Look, I owe you one."

"No, its fine, no payback ... you were out of it," Brian said.

"Some asshole put grain alcohol in the punch, I didn't know," Brad said. "I woke up and puked my guts up."

"Glad I missed that part," Brian said. Now why was this guy friendly all of a sudden?

"I still owe you, will you accept a pizza? Say Friday night? We'll go to Rollo's."

Rollo's pizza, the best around, on a Friday date night, with Brad ... something was up.

"Okay, I like pizza," Brian said, fishing for more.

"I just ... well, tenth grade sucks, right? I need to thank you properly," Brad said.

"Okay, I'm coming ... where should I meet you?"

"I'll come get you; I got your address from the phone book ... seven o'clock?"

"Seven on Friday, got it," Brian said. No, he didn't get it at all.

"See ya then, bye," Brad said.

"Bye," Brian said, and dial tone hummed in his ear.

Brian didn't see Brad at school since most of the senior classes were in the other wing. He took the bus home on Friday still lost in a strange funk, wondering, worrying. He showered and dressed with care as if he were going on a date, something he'd never done before. He sat in the living room while his parents watched the news until he heard the car.

It was just starting to get dark and Brad turned on his lights after Brian got into the car. They rode in silence for a few minutes. Brian looked over and almost said something, but he saw Brad chewing on his lower lip. Something was on his mind.

They were still a mile from Rollo's when Brad pulled into a church parking lot and stopped the car.

"Brian ... I ... I haven't been truthful with you, there's no way you could know but ... but I wasn't passed out on the bed after you undressed me. I know what you did."

Brian felt the blood drain from his face and he suddenly felt sick. "Uh ... " Was all he managed.

"I felt your hand on my cock. I was too drunk to respond, but ... but I liked it. Please tell me you know about these things, because I sure don't."

Brian turned his head and saw the look of worry on Brad's face. What was happening here?

"I never ... I've only thought about. Oh shit, this is so hard ... I might be gay," Brad said. His face turned to Brian and the fear showed on his face-he had just outed himself. Brian deflated, the concern gone. Brad was terrified.

Brian reached hand out and placed it on Brad's arm, the boy flinched. "I'm gay too," Brian said boldly.

Brad seemed to melt, his eyes watering as a slow smile crept to his lips. "Thank you ... I thought I was all alone with this." And then he sobbed as Brian reached out and took the boy in his arms. It was the beginning of the most wonderful friendship Brian ever had. His idol became his lover; it was something no one would ever believe.

They had a spring and summer together, a time of great love and happiness. It lasted until the day that Brad enlisted in the Marines. They were at war in Iraq; it was stupid move. It killed their love, and eventually killed Brad. Three weeks into his tour, a roadside bomb took out the truck in which he was riding. He died instantly.

All Brad's friends attended the burial and most of them wept, all but Brian. Brian was too numb to feel anything, he wanted to die. He lay in bed for a week and screamed at the walls, and then he was hospitalized. The doctors finally got the truth out of him; Brian was too emotionally weak to fight back.

After two years of therapy, he started his senior year and went into martial arts training as a way to stave off the pain that still festered in his gut. He came out to his parents and his friends, and none of them were surprised. They had seen him with Brad, and everyone knew. It had all been so senseless, but Brian never wanted a serious relationship with a guy again, it hurt too much ... until now.

One of the advantages of youth is how easily the body shifts into a higher gear when challenged. After ten days of running, Mark was pushing the envelope and Brian was stretching to make it seem easy. And even at three thousand calories a day, Mark's body was responding.

Soon he might begin to teach the boy how to strengthen his body, and then the real physical challenge would begin. It had been a few years since Brian's body had peaked in fighting trim, but he still knew the moves, and could still teach them all to Mark.

They attended several meetings at the studio, including meeting the director and the writers. Triton Studios was a small but aggressive outfit with a good reputation for success. Mark was off clowning with the writing group when Alan Dawkins, the director who'd been contracted for the first season, approached Brian.

"I understand you're his acting coach, Brian is it?"

"Brian Simmons. And I won't call myself an acting coach. I was a cameraman at Beacon's World when I met Mark. I mentored him for that role and he took me on as his trainer after that ended."

"Whatever it is you're doing for him just don't stop doing it," Alan laughed. "He seems in fantastic physical and mental shape, which will be important over the next three months of shooting."

"I've seen too many kids crash and burn in this business. It will not happen to this boy, Alan, I assure you."

"Beacon's World ... then you probably knew about Tommy Hines?"

"Hines, that sounds familiar," Brian said.

"He was the original Brandon. Tried out for the role of Adam and I turned him down because of the drugs. The poor kid killed himself last week. An overdose."

"I hope you don't feel in any way responsible for his death," Brian said. "I watched that boy take the long slide down the toilet along with a few others in the BW cast. Tommy tried to party up to their expectations of him and forgot he was just a dumb kid."

"He was my sister's boy, Brian. I was too busy with my own life to see what was happening in his. You keep an eye on Mark and we'll have a long a prosperous run with this show."

"My condolences, Alan. I'm sorry about the dumb kid crack."

Alan shook his head. "No, I see it like that too, what a waste. It's my sister I feel sorry for."

A week later they had the first script to study. Pilots were very important, and this one was a laugh riot. Of course they had to introduce the main character and right off the bat explain how he'd come to Earth in the first place.

Their idea was that the character of Adam had been sitting on his home world watching Earth television programs and decided it was finally time to try a hamburger. It seems the programs bored the kid but the commercials fascinated him. The kid could rattle off any one of dozens of jingles he'd heard. It was the way he'd taught himself English.

So with a craving for that distant hamburger, he borrowed the family car and launched himself into the closest worm hole. Presto, the boy landed on Earth somewhere in the California desert. The writers were vague but it led the reader to believe it was someplace like Death Valley. The boy was dressed in a silvery spacesuit, which fortunately kept the hot sun from cooking him to death. But the family car didn't fare as well and refused to run, so he abandoned it. He walked across the sand and discovered the highway.

This is where the story began to get strange. Adam stood by the side of the road and watched a car approach, and as it drew close he held up his hand and the car stopped. The man behind the wheel and his wife beside him seemed stunned when Adam jumped in the back seat of the sedan and asked them for a hamburger. But then the boy smiled, reached out and placed a hand on each of the adults and closed his eyes. Doing so altered their minds and made them believe he was their son.

In the final scene of that first script, Adam was seen with the couple sitting at a McDonalds enjoying his first hamburger. The couple seemed to be doting over him, asking him about school and how he was enjoying his vacation. Adam only smiled and offered up a few borrowed lines from a cereal commercial. Before the fade, they were seen driving off to the couple's home in Bakersfield. Adam sat in the back seat and smiled; he'd found a place to live.

Brian put down the script and looked up into Mark's eyes. "So how much of this is you?" He asked. "You spent a lot of time with the writers."

"Yeah, I put some things in there. So what do you think?"

"I love the tag lines from all those old commercials; it makes Adam seem smart when he throws them out. The mind control thing ought to be useful later on too."

"Both mine," Mark grinned.

"You really ought to get some writing credit for this," Brian suggested.

"Naw, let's make this a hit first, that's all I care about. All I did was throw out the ideas, they did the writing."

Brian shook his head. If the show succeeded it would be because Mark wanted it. Talk about mind control. He knew how amazing the kid was and it seems that others recognized it too. Everyone went out of their way to treat Mark like a star, but the boy only smiled. It wasn't that important to him.

After all the costume fittings, prop assembly and makeup trials, it was time to shoot the opening scenes. The sixty-second opening included music, credits and a good deal of graphics. This long opening was created just for the pilot. It would probably change when the show was accepted for broadcast.

Brian almost choked on his coffee when he saw the initial list of sponsors, Walco was one of them. They'd pulled the plug on Beacon's World only to move to this start-up production. Now that he could laugh about it, he really ought to thank them for the opportunity.

If anything, this taping of the pilot was going to be a holiday as they were going on location to Las Vegas. Alan Dawkins had decided that the desert around that city was good enough for what they needed. Brian was just glad they weren't going into the real Death Valley. Somewhere within walking distance of the hotel would be just fine.

They boarded a commercial flight for the short hop to Las Vegas. The production team had left the day before in a truck and car caravan. Besides the cameras and sound equipment, there had been a boatload of props, costumes and makeup to go along. The essential space car for the opening scene looked a lot like a Volkswagen on steroids. Brian had never seen anything quite like it.

They were met at the airport by several vans and were soon headed west out of the city. The producers planned on a three day shoot so they had booked a motel for the company. Rosie paid her own way and Brian was glad she wanted to see how the show was coming together. She hadn't been there for the script readings or the director's walk-through. That meant her first impressions would say a lot about the show.

The motel was a little run down, but they owned the whole thing for three days and it proved to be a lot more comfortable than something glitzy in a downtown location. A few palm trees and a whole lot of desert scrub occupied their back yard. Even Alan seemed to find the place acceptable.

There were only about thirty rooms under the long low roof of the motel, but there was a small casino and a restaurant attached. Brian was wondering how the assignments would be made. Tina, Alan's assistant, had a list but Rosie wasn't on it. Brian and Mark were expected to share a room and the company seemed to take up the rest.

"Not to worry," Rosie said. "We're in Las Vegas and I haven't been here in years. I'll just get a room at one of the hotels downtown and enjoy a little nightlife while I'm here."

It wasn't a bad idea, and Brian told her that Mark would be just fine. Rosie called for a cab and promised to be back the following morning to watch the rehearsal. Mark saw her off and then retreated into the coolness of their room.

"Okay, that takes care of Rosie," Mark said. "I'd really rather have her at arm's length if possible, especially when I'm around you."

Brian grinned. "I don't think she has a clue, do you?"

"Naw, she knows I love you but still thinks it's all just business. So what's on the schedule?"

Brian looked at the printout Tina had provided. "Lunch at one o'clock, publicity shots two-thirty to five, dinner at six and an early bedtime for us all. Alan has first call at four in the morning. Guess he wants that 'early-morning-sun-peeking-over-the-mountains' look in the opening scenes."

Mark flopped on one of the beds and sighed. "I'm afraid and nervous, damn it."

"Nervous? It can't be the lines; you wrote most of them ... what is it?" Brian asked.

"This has to work ... it has to. I can't handle two failures in a row if this show flops because of me."

Brian sat down on the bed and ran his fingers through Mark's shortened hair. The cut had been the director's idea, but Brian knew the boy would have shaved his head if he thought it would help the show. Mark was dedicated to making this work, and maybe a little stressed-out by the whole thing.

"You know, when we first met I saw something in your eyes, Mark. You brought curiosity and energy into an otherwise bland part on Beacon's World. Maybe you didn't see the way the other cast members reacted to you, but I did. You never got the chance to shine in that role, but now you do.

"This show will succeed because of you ... you own it already just by virtue of that energy. Maybe it won't happen tomorrow or even next week, but once you get your teeth into this role the show is gonna take off like that ugly little car out there in the truck."

Mark laughed. "Yeah, it does look pretty silly, doesn't it?"

"But it works," Brian said. "It works because it's only a silly little prop they may never use again, but you are the main focus of those scenes ... you and nothing else. The greatest part of this show is the awe and curiosity your character brings into every scene. That makes you the star, but more importantly, it makes you vital to all these people in the cast.

"You have a unique opportunity here. No one your age has ever done this before so I can understand a little bit of fear. As for nervous, it's a good thing. You have this thing knocked in the head and tomorrow you get to show the world what you do best. For my money, you're the best young actor I've ever seen. You just start off running like I taught you and the rest of the television shows will have a hard time keeping up."

"God, I love you," Mark said. "I couldn't do this without you."

Brian smiled. "I wouldn't want you to, sweetie, we're in this together."

They lay down together, arms holding tight, sharing the good feelings that had developed over the weeks. Brian could feel the boy relax, leaving the anxiety behind. Too much pressure had been building up and they both needed to blow off a little steam.

Adam Conquers Earth would hit the mid-season slot in four weeks as a replacement for an old failing family sit-com. What to name the show had been batted around for weeks and then Triton Studios had demanded an answer. Alan wasn't sure, and the writers made their usual move: they all turned to Mark.

Brian had been in that meeting and saw the subtle smile creep onto the boy's lips; he already had an answer. He stood up and raised his hands for silence, reveling in the drama of the moment. "I am Adam. The Earth has never seen anything like me before. I will conquer all." And then he abruptly sat down with a smile.

Tina wrote Adam Conquers Earth on the whiteboard behind her. Alan nodded, the writers all nodded and it was done, the show had a name. Now they had scripts for the pilot and six episodes, enough material to reach the end of the abbreviated season. It was anyone's guess what the ratings would do for them, but Brian knew they had a winner.

Lunch was a buffet with seating that allowed the cast and crew to mingle. Mark sat with a couple of his co-stars while Brian gravitated towards the crew. Everyone knew of his professional association with Mark, but several of the guys knew he was really one of them.

"Dawkins is really gonna stretch the limits tomorrow," Frank Manning said. He was the lead camera jockey and had years of experience. "You'd think he was making a feature film out of all this."

The opening sequence called for catching the rays of the rising sun reflecting off the space car as Adam crawled out of the vehicle. The electronics of a basic digital studio camera didn't like direct bright light as it tended to overload the capabilities of the camera, and that had Frank worried.

The grips were in charge of lighting the scenes and they all chatted about the problems of the upcoming shoot. Brian only smiled as he ate his salad, listening to them come up with solutions for the issues. Alan was pretty demanding, but he set a high standard for quality. It would only serve to make the show better.

After lunch Triton's photographers were out in force, three guys with a whole bunch of cameras. Mark and the other six characters for the pilot dressed out in their costumes and the cameras went to town.

Mr. and Mrs. Vernon, the family Adam had chosen for his Earthly stay, were played by Rick Sanders and Vera Duncan, two veterans of the sit-com television world. Both had played bit parts for years before Alan chose them for these roles. Brian could tell they had already figured out that Mark and this show would provide them with work for the next several years.

Casey Brown played the inevitable next-door neighbor, the Mr. Wilson to Mark's Dennis the Menace. Casey had retired from acting years before but found the easy life lacked the excitement he wanted; he'd been the best choice for the role of Martin Barnes, the Vernon's next-door neighbor.

Then there was Steven Biddle and Mary Jane Sears who were cast in the parts of Adam's closest friends from school. They supposedly lived nearby and would be the first kids Adam met on the bus ride to school.

The various roles of the principal, teachers and assorted school kids were filled but they wouldn't be needed until the first episode was shot in two weeks. Of course that would only happen if Triton accepted the pilot, but it was pretty common knowledge that one of the major networks had already signed on board when they read the script.

Mary Jane was a veteran of several films in which she had played supporting roles as a younger child. Brian could tell she was a sharp kid, but she was already seventeen and playing a younger role. Her mother chaperoned the girl and stuck to her like a shadow. Probably a good thing too as Mary Jane was a little flirt.

Steven, on the other hand, was a newcomer with a stage background like Mark. Alan had seen the boy playing the role of Oliver several years ago in a summer stock show of the same name; the kid was a talented singer as well. But the cute little blond boy made a fine addition to the cast, even if he was deeply in the closet.

Brian watched the boy with amusement. Steven had a severe crush on Mark and he did little to hide it. He had both parents tagging along as chaperones which was probably all for the best as he would never be alone with Mark.

For his part, Mark was well aware of Steven's adoring glances; he thought it endearing but impossible. The only issue he brought up with Brian was the other kids due on the set in a few weeks. Mark was worried that Steven would get outed in a hurry if he didn't chill out.

"He's not exactly feminine, but damn close to acting like a girl sometimes," Mark said.

"He's a young fifteen, Mark. He's awkward in that growing body of his, and Tina says he's barely reached puberty ... have pity on the poor kid," Brian replied.

"I don't care how long his cock swings or if he beats it silly every day, but if he keeps those puppy-love eyes on me much longer everyone is gonna wonder about what he wants from me."

Mark was right of course, the new kids would be looking at everything, and right now Steven was broadcasting his feelings in living color like an HD television set. Brian began to study the parents and came to a quick conclusion: Steven's father was along for the ride, the boy's mother was in charge. Brian knew he would have to deal with the woman after the pilot was wrapped up, but he wasn't sure how to approach the subject.

If Steven's gaydar told him that Mark was a fellow cock lover then he was heading for a world of hurt. The kid might be fifteen but he was too young and immature to understand that just sharing common attributes wasn't enough to allow him into Mark's bed. Brian had to figure out a way to slow it down if not turn it off all together.

He needn't have worried as Mary Jane was the one who brought the whole issue out into the open as the kids sat at the same table for dinner. She whispered something to Mark and then she laughed, heads turned at the familiar sound. What Brian saw gave him cause for alarm: Steven looked dangerously angry.

"Shut up, you stupid bitch," Steven yelled, and the room became silent.

"Enough from you, fag boy," Mary Jane threw back, as Brian jumped up to separate them.

Then the parents got into it and Brian asked them to remove Mary Jane. Steven's father was all freaked out, his mother doting, and Steven ... well, Steven looked magnificent in his anger. Brian had no power over these people, but one look from Alan said it all: he wanted someone to deal with them.

Brian led Steven and his parents into the unused conference room next door and shut the door. He asked the parents to sit and then dragged Steven across the room until they were far enough away for a private conversation.

"So it came down to fag boy ... what happened Steven?"

Steven was so angry Brian thought he might take a swing; he held up his hands and smiled.

"Hard to be gay isn't it? I'm a fag boy too," Brian said.

Steven's mouth dropped open and the anger left his eyes. "You ... you are?"

"I'm gay, and Mary Jane is a little slut who hates gay boys it seems ... you do feel like you're gay, don't you?" Brian asked.

Steven looked at him, wanting to trust, hoping he could, and then he nodded.

"Okay, I'm not outing you to anyone, do your parents know?" Brian asked.

He shook his head and the negative only served to depress Brian more. Poor kid, what a burden to carry all alone. Brian wanted him to stay on the show. Mary Jane's were easy to come by, but that would be Alan's decision.

"What did she say to Mark? I guess she wanted you to overhear it to make you upset."

"She said my dick got hard every time I looked at Mark, stupid bitch."

"She asked two different guys on the crew if they wanted blow jobs. Did you know about that?" Brian asked.

The shock on his face said he knew nothing of the kind. But then he gave back an evil grin. "Does that mean she's history?"

Brian smiled back. "Maybe ... would that make you happy?"

He nodded, and then they got down to the real issue.

"Steven ... you need to stop obsessing over Mark. He has a very hard job to do and all this mooning around and giving him puppy-dog eyes is a terrible distraction. He likes you, but only as a friend and a cast member. Why are you so crazy about him?"

Steven blushed. "He's so handsome, so perfect and he's already a star. I just wish ... no, I fantasize about him. Is that bad?"

"No, it's just the wrong place. You're part of the inner circle here, a founding member of this show, and you seem to be forgetting what a responsibility that is, both to yourself and the others. Have you ever been in love before?"

"Uh ... yeah, when I was on stage, but that didn't work either. What's wrong with me?"

"Nothing that I can see, you're a handsome young man. Maybe you're just pushing all this too soon in your young life. Try to be a kid just a little bit longer and save the adult feelings for a few years down the road. You aren't ready to fall in love; that's a pretty heavy responsibility.

"Just try and be Mark's friend and work hard on your part of this whole wonderful thing. I guarantee this show will make you a star, and when it does you'll be older and a little better equipped to deal with it."

Brian stuck out his hand. "So ... friends?" He asked.

Steven smiled and shook the hand. Right then Brian knew this kid was gonna be famous one of these days. For now the disaster had been averted.

They walked back over to the parents and Brian smiled. "Quite a talent this boy, you really ought to be very proud," he said. Then he left to allow them time to talk things over and went back to the dining room. He gave Alan a thumbs-up and received a smile in return. He had no idea what was behind that smile, but he would soon find out.

Mark was all alone at the table when Brian sat down beside him. "So what happened?" he asked.

"I wish he'd hit the little bitch," Brian said. "Steven came out to me, what a brave little man. I said I'd keep his secret, and that goes for you, too. He'll chill on the puppy love if you'll just be nice to him. He needs friends and I volunteered us."

"Sweet ... see, that's why I love you," Mark said. "Alan stormed out of here and I know Mary Jane got the axe. If he hadn't done it I would have asked him to get rid of her. Oops, here he comes."

"Brian ... Mark, I believe Mary Jane has resigned her role with the production, do I sense a general relief at that statement?"

"Yes, Alan ... it's all for the best," Mark said.

"Good, so I will leave it up to my new assistant to the director to find us a new girl ... you will do that, won't you Brian?"

Brian's mouth dropped open. My God, he was finally in the credits.

"Brian?" Alan said.

"Yes, sir, I can do that," Brian said.

"Can the 'sir' business. Alan will be just fine. You did well on this, and I assume Steven stays?"

Brian smiled. "Yes, that boy is gonna help us top the ratings."

Alan smiled. "That works. Let's go do television."

Mark squeezed his hand under the table, reminding Brian that he now had two jobs. It didn't matter as both lead straight back to Mark. Nothing would obstruct that vision of the future. This boy was going to conquer, just like his character.

Brian ordered up an early bedtime, the morning shoot demanded it. The order included a shower, teeth brushing and a whole lot of kissing. Over easy, chef, if you please.


On to Chapter Three

Back to Chapter One

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"Adam Conquers Earth" Copyright © 2011 Chris James. All rights reserved.
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