The light was just about perfect this afternoon and Brandon wasn't about to let that pass by unanswered. Throwing the camera bag in his pick-up truck he drove out to prowl the quiet county roads of his new home.

The rolling hills of the Piedmont, where the foot hills of the Appalachian Mountains spread out across North Carolina towards the East Coast. The area undulated with earthen folds that produced the lazy streams and rivers feeding the Fear River basin. The roads Brandon traveled passed across thousands of bridges, most barely wide enough to accommodate the two lanes of asphalt roadway.

Two summers ago he had moved here from the north, just another transplanted Yankee hiding out in the tobacco lands of the South. Given his preferences, he probably should have stayed in the north where life was less personable. But the people here had easily seduced him.

That some of them even wanted to know his name was a shock. The first time a store clerk thanked him for coming in and told him to 'Have a Blessed Day,' Brandon knew this was a different planet than the one he'd left behind on the streets of Baltimore.

His photographer's eye had told him that the light here was exceptional, even on the cloudiest of days he found it appealing. That had forced him to venture forth on the back roads with a map and a desire to produce a book to feed himself over the coming winter.

Not that the publishing industry hadn't already been kind, he had the awards but just not the name. The latter was his own damn fault; he had been publishing some of the best work under a pseudonym. Just the idea of all that boy ass attributed to Brandon Clark made him shudder, what would the family think if they ever found out?

But those days were over; he was here and away from all of them in the sleaze industry. No, this book was going to recall the best years of life from childhood. It wasn't that far back, he remembered those years of feeling free and reckless. At twenty-seven, Brandon knew that the approach of the big three-O was all part of this inclination to return to childhood. But through the lens he had already captured several golden moments.

The two little girls leaning on the back seat of their father's car and staring at him through the glass, all ribbons and bows in their Sunday best and waiting for church. But it was the identical gap toothed smiles on their wide cocoa colored faces that caught his eye; they were the best of friends.

That one photo made him decide it would become the theme of this whole work. Children and their closest companions, unfortunately he couldn't recall many in his own life.

Growing up with the certainty that he was different had made it impossible for him to get close to boys his own age. Just the presence of an attractive peer who stood too close was the cause for alarm. What if he had lost control and blurted out something about the attraction. A young Brandon was actually afraid he might do something that foolish. If someone knew then he would die from the shame.

Rescue came in the form of his eighth grade art teacher who encouraged a budding interest in photography. She said he had an eye for composition and handed him one of the schools precious 35mm reflex cameras. It was like a dream come true.

But his first show brought the school to a grinding halt and Brandon was almost suspended. How was he supposed to know that they would be touchy about a few drag queens on parade at two in the morning? Or the two leather clad men embracing in the alley behind the police station? He thought all his photographs were perfectly fine.

Maybe he hadn't considered that these photographs would out him to the school, but that's exactly what happened. His last series of photos were self portraits of the bruises and broken nose a few of his peers decided would enhance the looks of a faggot.

But Brandon changed schools and got the last laugh on them. Several years later he sold the photos for a band to use on their album cover. Not original, but still pretty lucrative even when the band folded after eight months.

Companionship, Brandon guessed he wasn't much of an expert on the subject. There had been some early fumblings and one rather serious incident that outed him to his family. But twice he had found what he thought was Mr. Right only to have the guy go slipping away.

No doubt he had caused all the fights and the hard feelings. Guys walked rather than put up with the emotions built up over the years. If anything this assignment was a way of putting himself on the line, at least maybe he could show the world that he knew something about life.

Brandon pulled into a small crossroads store about five miles from home and bought himself a pop. Yankees say soda; the local's call it pop. The camera elicited curiosity from the old man behind the counter.

"Are you gonna take pictures of the old mill before they tear it down?" he asked.

"I just might," Brandon said. "Where's it located?"

"Down at the river. Just you go down the road until it forks and take a left. It's about three miles down right after you cross the bridge."

"All right, I'll give it a try," Brandon said.

He found the fork and hung a left onto a narrow lane of potholed asphalt, groaning every time his suspension clunked and rattled. He rolled down a gentle slope and saw the bridge in the distance through the trees. Sitting about halfway across the span was a guy on a bicycle. But as he rolled onto the bridge the guy turned to look. A glimpse of blonde hair flashing in the sun. Oh, it was a boy.

The kid watched Brandon approach and nodded as he passed. Looking back in the mirror Brandon saw him turn away and pedal back across the bridge. The mill building was down the slope on the left, partially obscured with heavy undergrowth. He found a place to park his pickup on a piece of gravel and shouldered the camera bag.

The ancient wooden structure was pretty dilapidated and it looked like someone had taken away much of the waterwheel. It wasn't much but he took a few shots behind the place, nice close ups of weathered wood and rusting metal.

It would be better if he could take a full shot of the site but it sat so low in the depression next to the river that it was impossible to get what he wanted. He looked across the river and saw that maybe he would be able to get the shot from the far bank.

Trudging across the bridge Brandon wondered what had happened to the boy. It was probably some local kid just out looking for a summertime fishing hole. He waded through the tall grass and slid down the bank towards the water.

Oh yes, the mill was good at this angle and he snapped a few wide-angle shots. He was about to climb back up the bank when he looked under the bridge and saw a bicycle lying in the grass. The boy was down here somewhere and suddenly Brandon wanted to photograph him too.

Brandon picked his way along the bank of the river until he came to the first column that held up this side of the bridge. He looked up the bank at the base of the roadbed but there was no one sitting under the steel beams, where was the boy?

The sound of rushing water was louder here under the span of the bridge. He clambered across the rocks towards the second concrete pillar and came upon the boy washing his shirt in a shallow pool.

The kid didn't hear his approach but looked up when a shadow fell across his legs. The face was dirty and yet the shear beauty of it was startling. The blonde hair he had seen on the bridge, but those flashing blue eyes and the wide grin took him by surprise.

"Hey," the boy said.

"I'm sorry, didn't mean to bother you," Brandon said.

"Ain't no bother, you a photographer?" he asked.

"I'm trying to be, isn't easy making a living with this thing. Can I take a shot of you?"

"Uh, naw, I'd rather you didn't," he said, "I might get in trouble."

"Oh, alright, sorry to bother you," Brandon said again, and he turned to retrace his steps.

"Don't go yet," the boy said suddenly.

"My name's Brandon."

"Alan ... Alan Bennett," the boy said.

"So why are you hiding out under this bridge on a fine summer afternoon?"

"What makes you think I'm hidin' out?" Alan asked.

"I recognize the symptoms. I used to hide out under the freeway overpass when I was your age. Maybe it was because my parents were fighting or because I just wanted to be alone with a nudie magazine. It doesn't matter, I'm sorry I interrupted you."

"Yeah, it's something like that for me," Alan said. "You ain't from around here?"

"No, I'm just another damn Yankee who moved in, but I like it here very much. How about you?" Brandon asked.

"My family has a farm over in King, but my Pa and I don't get along."

"King ... hell that's almost fifty miles from here. You rode all the way here on that bike?" Brandon asked.

"Yeah," Alan said.

"Did you run away? Sorry, it's really none of my business."

Alan looked at him and Brandon knew he was deciding if he could be trusted. The boy licked his lips, and for the first time the braces on his teeth were evident. At least the parents were concerned about his appearance, dental work didn't come cheap.

"You don't have to tell me, guess I'm just nosey," Brandon said.

"Guess I'd be curious if I ran across a situation like this too," Alan said.

Situation? What did he mean, they didn't even know each other and already they were in something together?

"Are you born-again?" the boy asked. A startling question.

"Me? Not a chance," Brandon said.

"You ever meet anyone who was just so different and hate them for it?" Alan asked.

"You mean like racist? I don't hate anybody."

The boy became silent, reflecting a moment and then he spoke.

"My father beat me bad three days ago so I left. A month ago my mother died of cancer. At least she was on my side." Alan looked like he was about to cry and so Brandon took up the story.

"So you decided to take off for the coast, maybe hang out around the beach for the rest of the summer. You don't have any money and so you've been sleeping under bridges and washing up in the rivers, a real pioneer."

"Yeah, it's been like that," Alan agreed with a dry laugh. "I got a few dollars so's I've been eating, mostly cupcakes and pop. But now my braces are hurting and I need a dentist, but I can't afford it. What if my Pa is lookin' for me?"

Brandon looked down that the boy ... what was the big secret? Deep inside he was afraid Alan would eventually say he was gay. Oh God, he wouldn't be able to walk away from a declaration like that. No, that would be repeating the cycle of abuse he had received as a child, no one had listened to his pleas either.

"Did he have a good reason to throw you out?" Brandon asked, fishing for the answer.

"I ... I can't tell you," Alan said turning his face away.

"Does anyone else know?" Brandon asked. "Did he catch you?"

Alan turned back, his eyes wide in fear and there was the answer.

"My father caught me too," Brandon said. "He was a tailor and he had a small shop. I stole the keys one Sunday afternoon and met the man in the alley behind the store. He was a delivery guy for the grocery next door, he was nineteen and I was fourteen.

"He unleashed passions in me I never knew existed and we were in each other's arms when my father walked in. He beat the grocery boy and tried to beat me but I fought back. It was my own self-defense that made him realize that I was never going to change. There were a lot of difficult years but we've settled into sort of a truce about who I am, at least he talks to me now."

Alan was just staring up at him now but the fear in his eyes was gone, replaced by the beginnings of real tears. Brandon sat down on the rock and put his arm across the boy's shoulder.

"Will you tell me about it?"

"I ... I got raped ... "

Alan began crying and Brandon hugged him close enough to feel his young body trembling. Now what was he going to do? This was himself as a child. This beautiful boy in his arms needed help. How old was he, fifteen, maybe? He felt every ounce of the boy's fear, how could he fail to do something?

"Come home with me, Alan. I think we have a lot to talk about," Brandon said.

"I can't," he said. "What if ... "

"If I hurt you? No, I could never do that. Having sex doesn't make you a man, Alan, gay or straight. You're too young to be living like this. Come home with me, you need a shower, some clean clothes and a decent meal, then we'll talk, ok?"

Alan finally nodded his approval and Brandon helped him push the bike up the hill to the road.

"Where does this road go anyway?" Alan asked.

"Across this bridge the road goes anywhere you want it to go," Brandon said. "But first you have to learn how to read a map. It won't do to have you wandering all the way across the state only to discover you're in some place you don't want to be."

That analogy summed it up. The boy didn't have any idea where his life was headed. Brandon was like him once ... he had no direction for a long time thanks to his father. But this is so dangerous, society would be quick to condemn if they found out. And Brandon knew that was part of the attraction, this was another fight, one he could easily lose ... but he had to try ... he had to.

He lifted the boy's bike into the back of the truck. Alan only had the clothes on his back and a tiny backpack. The boy hopped in the cab and fastened his seatbelt. Brandon felt the boy's eyes and turned to find him staring.

"What ... what made you want to help me?"

"I told you, it happened to me too. Maybe I can wring some justice out of this life if I help you. You're gonna grow up to be a handsome man, Alan. Just remember me kindly when you get to be Governor, I might need a favor."

Alan smiled. "I have to trust you, Brandon, or I wouldn't be here," he said. "You didn't have to tell me about yourself, you could have just walked away."

Brandon thought about that as they rode on in silence. Sure, maybe walking away was the easy out but Brandon knew he was past that now. He needed a friend almost as much as Alan did. Sure, the boy was deeply beautiful and it was only a short step further to wonder what he would feel like. But they both had other needs; maybe they could find a way to help each other.

Brandon's modest little spread was courtesy of sleazy book number three, the one about phallic symbols, it was quite a success. Forty acres and a mule wasn't his style, more like twenty acres and a comfortable log home. The dogs ran to greet them as they pulled into the drive. As usual, Suzie and Jill hopped in the bed of the truck until driven up to the house.

"They don't bite," Brandon said, "but they might lick you to death."

"I like animals," Alan replied. Yeah, he was a farm boy all right.

Alan raced around the yard with the dogs and it was joy watching them run. Brandon let Alan give them their food and so began the bonding process between boy and animal. Now it was his turn to make the boy feel welcome.

The first thing that greeted them inside the door was the mess. Brandon ran around the room and picked up the detritus of his current life. Snatching up a few cum stained towels and some porno magazines from the couch, he headed back towards the laundry room. When he returned, Alan was sitting on the couch with an open magazine on the coffee table in front of him.

"Oh shit, don't go looking at that stuff," Brandon said.

"They're fuckin' but it looks like fun," Alan said. "That's not the way I remember it at all."

"It can be pleasurable, but not the way it happened to you. Now fork over that crap."

"You have a boyfriend?" Alan asked as he handed over the magazine.

"If I did I wouldn't be reading all this smut. The gay scene down here isn't quite what I expected."

"You can say that again," Alan said.

"Come on, kiddo, you need a shower and some clean clothes."

Brandon handed him a towel and pushed him towards the bathroom. Socks and underwear were no problem, but he might not have pants short enough for the boy. His waist seemed to be about a twenty-eight and Brandon was thirty-two. He opted for sweatpants and a T-shirt.

The sound of running water was reassuring, it was nice having company. In the past two years he'd never had another person in his home other than the plumber and some woman who just stopped by to admire the place. Alan would sleep in the guest bedroom so Brandon hustled a few things off the bed in there and looked around to see if he needed to remove any other damning material.

Brandon hadn't brought the boy here to share pornography or the bong he kept hidden in the closet; he didn't deserve to be treated like a trick. Someone else had already started the cycle of abuse. He could feel there was a sad story ahead if the boy was willing to talk.

The shower went off and Brandon waited for him to open the door. He was even more beautiful when he appeared at the door with only a towel around his waist.

"Don't suppose you have a spare toothbrush?" the boy asked.

"Your lucky day, I actually do," Brandon said.

He stood at the door and watched Alan brush, guessing his teeth hurt from all the stuff pushed up under his braces. Alan examined his teeth in the mirror, turning first to one side and then the other.

"I still need a dentist," he said. "Some of the wires are coming loose. Damn, I was gonna have them off in two months. Maybe I should just rip them out, got any pliers?"

"Whoa there, no dental work allowed in this house. We'll find you a dentist first thing tomorrow, ok?"

Alan stared at him in the mirror, one finger hooked over his bottom teeth.

"I can't be asking you to spend money on me," he said.

"No, you'll be spending your own money. I'm thinking about hiring you to work for me as a photographer's assistant," Brandon said.

Alan's eyes got wide and he turned, making Brandon all too aware that they were standing uncomfortably close.

"Why would you do that? I don't know nothin' about cameras."

"But you can think like a child and that's what I'm shooting for this book. You should dress and then we'll talk about it."

Brandon was just too aware of the body only inches from his and Alan was pushing himself closer for a reason. It ended up being a kiss on the cheek. Not a bad reward, the chaste kiss from a boy, a friend.

"That was sweet."

"Thank you, Brandon. Do you believe in God?"

"I suppose, I just think that religion has forced its way between a man and his Maker."

"Yeah, I see it like that too. But God brought you into my life and I can only be grateful for that."

The boy retired to the guestroom and Brandon closed the door so he could change in peace. His cheek still tingled from the kiss and be he hoped Alan wouldn't do it again. He would have to be careful, he was the adult here and this boy certainly felt no constraints about where the friendship might go.

Brandon picked up the dirty clothes off the bathroom floor and after a brief examination tossed them in the wash. The pockets revealed some keys, a few coins and seven dollars. Alan really had been at the end of his rope. He would never have made it to the beach and even if he did, well, there were lot's of boys looking to make a living down there.

Just as so many runaways turned to prostitution and drug dealing to feed themselves, Alan would have been up to his neck in trouble within days, if not hours of hitting the coast. His natural beauty was an asset but only if he wasn't in a desperate situation, then it would only bring him grief.

The boy joined him in the kitchen, he didn't look too uncomfortable in the hand me down clothes.

"What should I wear on my feet?" he asked.

"I have boots if you go out in the yard, but we'll have to dig up something when we go into town, I guess we'll have to shop. Want a pop?"

"Tell me about this book you're makin'," Alan asked.

Brandon pulled out the contact sheets he'd printed up from the first ten rolls. Alan seemed surprised at the content.

"There aren't any naked pictures in here," he said.

"Lord no, I am not into kiddie porn, silly boy. What do you think I am?"

"I dunno, you just said you were takin' pictures of kids and I thought ... "

"Gay men are not perverts, well at least ninety-nine percent of us anyway. Yes, I've done adult porno pictures before, it paid the bills. This is going to be a classy book about children and their best friends."

"Oh," Alan said as he looked back down at the sheets.

"Look at the smile on that boy's face as he looks over at his friend, the pig is the only thing between them. That look says it all, he loves his friend and that's what I'm out to capture. I want those innocent moments of love between friends and the way they share their lives."

Alan looked up at him with something akin to awe. Yes, he understood the moment Brandon was after. Now maybe he would think of situations to shoot.

"I don't have a best friend, never have," Alan said. "I guess the feelings I had kept me from sharing that kind of thing with another boy. I've looked at other boys before Billy came along, but it was just too hard to say anything."

"Billy was the boy you got in trouble with?"

"He wasn't a boy ... can we talk about that later?" Alan asked.

"Sure, whenever you feel comfortable." Brandon said. "The first step was the hardest for me too. He lived in the apartment above us and his bedroom was above mine. I began to hear the squeaks when we were both about twelve. I knew he was beating his meat up there but I couldn't say anything to him.

"One night we had a sleepover and I asked him if he ever did it with anybody. He told me I was a pussy and denied ever touching himself. The next night the squeaking got louder and I knew he was teasing me. I hated him after that."

"Did your bed squeak a lot?" Alan asked with a smirk on his face.

"I was the jerk off champ of the North Side, I assure you."

"I started when I was thirteen, it's my favorite sport. Sometimes I do it five or six times a day."

"Oh, kiddo, you're gonna wear it out before you reach twenty. Are you hungry?"

"Starving," Alan said.

They pulled cold cuts and cheese from the fridge and looked in the pantry for some soup. Alan started opening cabinets until he found a sauce pan and some plates.

"We'll start with this, I'll make us a really good dinner later," Brandon said. "Anything special you like to eat?"

"I ain't picky, but I am partial to hamburgers and fried chicken," Alan said.

"I can do that."

"I can cook if you want me too. My Pa made me cook all the time."

"Then I guess we won't starve. It would be nice to have you help out."

They ate on the screened porch and watched the squirrels playing in the trees. Brandon wanted to ask so many things but it would have broken the peaceful mood. They took the dirty dishes in and set them in the sink. And as Brandon rinsed off the bowls, Alan came up behind him and hugged him around the waist.

"Do you believe God brought us together?" Alan said quietly. "I think He sent you out to find me."

The boy could only be the product of a serious religious upbringing with talk like that. Brandon had avoided those earlier comments because he didn't usually get into discussions on religion with anyone. But this part of the state was heavily Baptist, the conservative and not so gay friendly kind. He turned around and wrapped his arms around the boy's shoulders. Alan's eyes stared up at his ... begging for an answer.

"I pretty much think that people around here don't believe God likes us queer folk," Brandon said. "I don't advertise my sexuality to the neighborhood and I want it to stay that way. As to Him bringing us together ... I suppose you could give Him credit if you want. I sure don't have a better explanation."

"My Pa is born again Christian, Brandon. He thinks everything I do is sinful but I know his heart and mind ain't right either. I know he goes over to Mrs. William's house and they fornicate. He was doin' that even before Ma died, the stupid bastard. I also know he and Jed Collins were makin moonshine and selling it to the bikers over in Thomasville."

"Are you born again, Alan?"

"Ma had me baptized when I was younger but I don't know as that counts for much anymore. Why do guys like us have to be queer, Brandon? It seems like God should be mighty angry with us for what we do."

Brandon smiled. "The God you speak of isn't my image of the Creator at all. He made me the way I am and I think that should be enough of an explanation for anybody. None of us is perfect ... except maybe you. He certainly did a wonderful thing when he made you."

Brandon knew the minute the words left his mouth that they should never have been spoken aloud. But it seems Alan had been waiting for some clue ... some sign of acceptance. His arms reached for Brandon's neck and pulled their faces together until their lips met. Brandon ended it by pushing the boy away and turning back to the sink.

"This isn't going to be easy for me, Alan. I find you attractive, but at your age ... "

"I know, I'm just a kid. But what if I say it's ok? I have all these feelings, Brandon. I have to know what they mean. It's messin up my head."

"Damn it, I know, boy. I went through it too."

"Look, Brandon, I'm sixteen, I'm on my own now, I have to make my own decisions about life. You came out of the blue, it's like my prayers have been answered ... don't push me out like my Pa did."

That was a low blow and it hurt. What could he tell the boy? He was just so damn young. What would he have done in this position? One thing he realized, he needed time to think.

Brandon looked up through the window above the sink. "I could never push you away ... but having you here puts a responsibility on me." He turned back to the boy. "I know you feel like we should just hop right in bed and take care of business ... but that can't happen."

He stared down into those sad eyes, those amazing pools of watery blue. "You need me and I need you. I only want what's right for you, Alan. I think sex would be the wrong thing right now. This isn't a rejection of you ... more like the fact that I recognize what we need is greater than our own pleasure."

Alan smiled. "You do like me ... don't you?"

"Yes ... very much, but right now I don't think sex is the way for me to show you how much I care about you. We both need time to understand one another, this is happening too fast. There are so many things you need in life, and tomorrow we start taking care of them."

The smile had never left the boy's face, if anything it had widened. "You do like me, that makes me so happy."

Brandon could only smile in return and hope the boy understood what they were up against. Life was going to take on some dramatic changes around here with a teenager in the house. Especially since Alan was one of the most desirable creatures he had ever encountered. Yes, it was almost enough to make him think some higher power had brought them together.

On to Chapter Three

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