The first thing Brandon noticed was the looks. At the Raleigh airport several of the waiting passengers gave Alan that look, they had seen him before. Fortunately Jack was beside them and the airlines hustled them off to the first class lounge within minutes of their arrival.

For his part Alan didn't feel uncomfortable even though he felt the eyes upon him.

"Those people recognize me," Alan whispered.

"Yes, sweetie," Brandon replied. It would only get worse.

The flight attendants seemed to know the boy as well, something to be expected. But they were discreet; it was all part of their job. Jack occupied a seat across the aisle and read a book while Alan dozed off; it left Brandon alone with his thoughts.

Having a condo at their disposal would be a great convenience. He had no doubt that Theresa chose the place to make them feel at home. She had to know the boy would miss home very quickly and that keeping him happy was part of her job.

Alan couldn't appear on Letterman in that Armani suit, it would seem presumptuous, over the top. The boy's appeal was in his laid back country boy image, that's what they needed to maintain, at least for now. The future clothing gigs Theresa had mentioned was intriguing.

The story of young Willy Davenport popped into Brandon's head. The young model had been everyone's favorite star in the years before Brandon ever made the scene; the kid did just about everything back in those days.

Kid stars were hard to handle, but not young Willy. And as the boy aged into his early teen years he adapted to the young adult roles he was required to play in commercials. But magazine and catalog modeling was still Willy's best chance at staying on top of the game. And then he did "that" layout for a large retail store catalog.

The photographer must have been an idiot, or at least blind. By the age of thirteen Willy was still small, petite even, but not in all places. Willy was posed in briefs and it took little imagination to see that the boy was circumcised and pretty well hung.

The kid was supposed to wear a cup, the rules dictated that much, but somehow the photo got through and Willy's cock went out to millions of households. As the story goes the photographer was having sex with the little brat. That much was probably true since Willy was a gay boy, but no one ever proved it.

Of course there was a lawsuit, the photographer never worked in the industry again and millions of catalogs were recalled and replaced. It was quite a scandal in the business, and Willy? William Davenport went on to make gay porn; Brandon had met him several times. What he had hidden behind those white briefs was now out there in living color for all to see, if you like that kind of film. He was still a talented young man.

There was no doubt that some clothing manufacturers would love to have Alan give them a sexy image, sex sells. But with Brandon behind the camera there would be no bulge, not even a ripple. The body poses might be suggestive but the crotch would never become a focus in anything he shot.

LaGuardia once again, only this time Jack preceded them off the plane. Again Alan garnered a few looks as they stepped out into the chilly afternoon air. The limo was waiting in the no parking zone ... and a surprise, Theresa was inside.

"Theresa, what brings you here?" Alan asked. They kissed and hugged in greeting.

"Have to keep my favorite boy star happy," She replied, and then she smiled at Brandon. "I want to be there when you see the new place."

Jack and the driver tossed their bags in the trunk and sat up front. Theresa turned her attentions back to Alan.

"I think you'll like this place, I chose it with you in mind. It's a secure building which will make you feel safe, but they have an inside swimming pool, a health club and even a restaurant, Italian of course," Theresa laughed.

"Wow, cool," Alan said.

"Thank you, Theresa," Brandon said.

"So a busy week ahead," Theresa said. "Two clothing lines, one Italian and the other from China. Both of them are trying to break into the American markets and they want that image only you can provide. Nice thing is you will come off with a lot of free stuff from these guys. We'll have fun with these campaigns."

"Any idea of their concepts yet?" Brandon asked.

"Yes, the Italians want that sporty approach, they always do. It's going to be a spring campaign so we'll have to send you into warmer weather if we want any good production values at this time of year. California seems a distinct possibility. The Chinese are after the outerwear market; a little snow would work best for that...Vermont or New Hampshire maybe."

"Sweet, I've never seen those places," Alan said.

Theresa smiled. "Well I chose California so you and Brandon could have a little quality time at Disneyland. Would you like that?"

That earned her a hug and Brandon just smiled. The vacation time would be appreciated, but he knew Alan would have to earn it. The limo was traveling up Fifth Avenue now; Central Park seemed denuded since the last time they were here.

The car turned a corner and pulled into a driveway. Oh my, Brandon thought, a real classy address right on the park. No matter what Theresa said about a bargain, this location probably cost a fortune, but then it was a business expense after all.

Jack got out and opened their door. A doorman came down the steps and smiled.

"Ms. Stanford, we've been expecting you," The man said.

"Is Mr. Arnold in the office?" She asked.

"Yes ma'am, he'll be right out ... won't you step inside, please."

The doorman held the glass doors as they walked into the lobby. Brandon glanced around the large carpeted area. Not a new building, recently remodeled perhaps, but very well done. A bright smiling face approached, Mr. Arnold their manager he presumed.

"Ms. Stanford ... and you must be Mr. Clark and Mr. Bennett, welcome to the Greengate Condominiums. My name is John Arnold."

"Mr. Arnold, did everything arrive?" Theresa asked.

"Yes, Ms. Stanford. And here is your set of keys, one for each of you as requested. They work the elevator, the main and back doors of your residence. Just pick up any phone and dial nine, I will personally respond to your call. And this gentleman?"

"This is Jack Abrams, our security consultant," Theresa said.

"Oh yes, and this is the key to your apartment, Mr Abrams, its right across the hall from number sixty-four. May I show you to your new home?" Arnold said.

He led them to the elevator as the driver and Jack managed their bags onto a cart and into the second elevator. A sign on the elevator wall showed that the pool and health club was on the eighth floor, there were fifteen floors in the building.

They reached six and stepped off into a quiet well lit hallway. Arnold led them down the hall towards the end and slid his key into a set of double doors. Even before they opened Brandon knew what they would see. Theresa had remembered, they would have a grand view of the park and best of all, the zoo.

The entrance hall was grand, a long wide room off which the rest of the apartment could be easily reached. Brandon was sure Theresa had overseen the decoration, tasteful and not overdone at all ... early comfortable.

Arnold led them down the hall straight to the living room and opened the drapes. From six stories up they had a grand view of the park and Alan seemed quite happy.

"Enjoy your stay with us," Arnold said, and then he left them alone. Jack and the driver wheeled in their bags and left them in the hall. Jack looked at his key and smiled. "I'll be across the hall if you need me."

"So what do you think?" Theresa asked. "If you have to be here then this is just a perfect place to live."

"Yes, Theresa, you made a great choice," Brandon said.

"Good. You boys get settled in and I'll call you later about our meetings. The Italians first, another lunch meeting tomorrow. Have fun, look around," She said.

Alan gave her a big hug, a kiss and escorted her to the door. He was all smiles when she was gone.

"This place is awesome ... what did she mean look around?"

"I don't know, let's go exploring," Brandon suggested.

There were two bedrooms, a king sized bed in one, a computer and X-box gaming system in the other. The living room had a huge HD television and nice music system. But the kitchen was all new, and fit for a gourmet.

Alan opened the refrigerator and gasped. "Wow, look at all this stuff."

Theresa had stocked the whole kitchen, everything they would need for weeks. But they wouldn't have to cook unless they wanted to. A book of menus sat on the counter. The Italian place downstairs, two Chinese and one Thai place all delivered. There was even an ad for a grocery delivery service. That's what living in the big city would do for them.

Brandon dragged their bags into the bedroom and opened the closet doors.

"Whoa, Alan come look at this," Brandon said.

Theresa had bought them clothing as well it seemed ... warm stuff by the looks of it. But the walk in closet would hold everything they had and a lot more besides, it was big enough to serve as a garage.

"OK, I get it ... she's afraid we'll miss home," Alan said.

"We will no doubt, but home will always be wherever we are, sweetie," Brandon said.

Alan threw his arms up for a hug, and the kisses which followed soon led them to try out the bed. It was late afternoon before their lovemaking subsided, a pause in their ongoing passions. Both of them knew the sex would never end; it was a sign of their love, something that never seemed to wane, and something they both needed.

They tried on the lined parkas Theresa had bought, and Alan discovered the label that said made in China.

"You think this is part of that clothing line?" He asked.

"Probably, pretty nice stuff," Brandon replied.

"Yeah, but the color sucks," Alan laughed.

They donned knit hats for the walk they planned; it was in the low thirties outside. Done up like this Alan's identity was concealed, but Brandon knocked on Jack's door to let him know what they were doing.

"Do you need to come with us?" Brandon asked.

Jack looked at the boy and shook his head. "No one will recognize him, but I have to go with you anyway. I could use some fresh air."

The three of them rode down the elevator together.

"How's your place?" Alan asked.

"Good, all the comforts of home ... well, except for Barry," Jack said.

"Why don't you find someone to replace him?" Brandon suggested. "Theresa is going to be sending us on some long distance travel real soon; wouldn't you find our security a little easier to handle with the two of you along?"

Jack smiled. "I was going to ask if that would be OK. I know some people that could guard your place very nicely if it's all right with you."

"Yes, Jack. It seems like we're all in this together, I want you to be happy," Brandon said.

Alan smiled. "Yeah, besides, Barry was going to teach me some of that karate stuff." He gave Jack a small punch in the arm and then immediately looked astonished. "Lord, Jack ... you're muscles are hard as a rock."

"We'll have to spend some time in that health club upstairs, got to keep that young body of yours in shape ... the both of you for that matter," Jack said.

"Sounds like a plan," Brandon said.

The park was down the block and across the street. The zoo entrance was several blocks south and the museums began a few blocks to the north; the condo was in an excellent location. They wandered the pathways surrounding the ponds and watched the ducks scrambling for crumbs of food.

New York was full of noise, a far cry from the peace and quiet of their southern home. Traffic sounds and distant sirens managed to intrude even in this peaceful setting, but the chilly air felt refreshing.

Jack followed along until Alan encouraged him to walk beside them.

"You must have seen a lot in the military," Alan said.

Jack smiled. "Too much, unfortunately. My outfit was always the first on the ground, and most of it was covert. But we made friends with a lot of the locals unless they were shooting at us."

"You and Barry served together?" Brandon asked.

Jack laughed. "Not in the same outfit. We met on a rescue mission. That would be me pulling his ass out of a bad situation. We both got a break after that mission, got to know one another a little better.

"Barry figured me out first and then came out to me, a pretty brave thing to do while on active duty, but that's him all the way. That was all six years ago. We stepped out of uniform at about the same time, started the security business and have been together ever since. No end to this story."

"Where's home to you?" Alan asked.

"Lots of places. My family is in Ohio, Barry's is in Texas. We travel a lot, makes the job exciting."

"Will that apartment be big enough for the two of you?" Brandon asked.

"Lord yes, it's got everything and just one bed," Jack laughed. "You guys are being really nice to me, I have to thank you."

Alan put an arm around Jack's waist and gave him a bump. "Gay people are all family, Jack. Brandon and I really believe that."

"Yeah, I am just beginning to understand that myself. My parents still don't know about me or Barry for that matter. No sense in telling them something they don't want to hear."

Alan had rosy cheeks by now and Brandon didn't want the boy to get sick so they headed home.

"You be sure and call Barry when you get back," Brandon said, "I'll square it with Theresa."

"Hey, you like Italian food?" Alan asked. "Come have dinner with us."

Jack smiled. "If you go down to the restaurant I have to be there anyway. But yes, I'd like that, especially if they have good linguini."

Brandon smiled as the two talked Italian food all the way back. The doorman held the door as they moved into the welcoming warmth of the lobby. The restaurant had an entrance off the lobby and Brandon wondered how they kept the place secure. He shouldn't have worried, the door had access to the restaurant, but a key was needed to get back into the lobby.

"You hungry now?" Brandon asked, it was already five-thirty.

"Yeah," Alan said.

"Fine with me," Jack answered. "Never was much for all that late night eating."

"I suppose we're dressed up enough, let's see what we have to do to get in," Brandon said.

They pushed through the door and were met by a nice gentleman. "We're new tenants," Brandon explained. "Do we need reservations?"

The man smiled. "No sir, only after seven in the evening. Would you like a table?"

"Yes, three please," Brandon replied.

There was only one couple in the place as they were escorted to a corner booth. Alan sat in the middle after the waiter offered to take their coats. He returned with menus and a pleasant smile. "The chef has a nice red clam sauce over a delicate linguini this evening," he informed them.

"Sounds good to me," Jack said.

"Lasagna," Alan said.

Brandon chuckled. "The chicken parmesan will suit me fine. Does everyone want tea?"

Nods made Brandon tell the waiter, "Yes, that's fine, three teas, please."

"You guys can drink wine if you want," Alan said.

"No, and you may not have a glass of wine from me," Brandon said.

"I don't drink, well, not much anymore," Jack said.

"Darn, you guys are no fun," Alan laughed.

"My father drank too much," Jack said.

"My father was a Baptist, he hated people that drank," Alan said.

"I smoked pot when I was a kid, never drank back then," Brandon added.

"You did drugs?" Alan said. "Bad habit, Brand."

"Yeah, I know. I think I did it just trying to fit in, the gay thing kept me pretty isolated for a long time."

The waiter brought their tea and Alan took a sip.

"Ew, no sugar," He said with a frown.

"This isn't the south; here you have to add your own sugar." Brandon said. They all stirred in a couple of sugar packets and felt satisfied.

"Brandon, where did you grow up if I may ask," Jack said.

"Baltimore, just north of the city actually. But as I grew older and really started focusing on my photography I traveled a good bit. I did a few books and a friend showed some of my work to Theresa, she took me in."

"I'd love to see some of your work," Jack said.

Brandon laughed. "So you like gay porn?"

"Oh, really? Guess it paid the bills," Jack smiled.

"Pretty handsomely, but it's not really me. Getting artsy with the male body I can understand, but too much of that stuff was just senseless hard core. I won't do it again."

"He won't shoot me without clothes on," Alan said.

Brandon smiled. "The images would be attractive but useless, sweetie. I don't need photos like that when I have the real thing, we discussed this before."

Alan was teasing, Brandon could tell. But it was Jack who stood up for him.

"You don't want to kill your career, Alan. Photos like that in the wrong hands would destroy your image and take away your job and mine. You want to hurt me like that?"

"No ... I was just teasing. Brandon's right, he has the real thing if he wants something to look at."

"Its one of the things on my security list," Jack said. "I can't allow situations where someone might see you in the nude, someone with a camera. You've seen the stuff they publish in those tabloids. I'll check out dressing rooms and bathrooms wherever you go, get used to it."

Alan grinned. "But then you might see my naked butt."

Jack laughed. "Look kiddo, you're cute ... adorable even, but you're a little young for my tastes, cute butt or not. Now you want to know what I like just look at Barry when he works out, that my young friend is a cute butt."

Brandon laughed and shook his head. Jack was going to be a lot of fun, he knew how to shut Alan down the minute the boy started playing head games. It was all in fun, they had good company.

The food arrived and they set about eating. Alan finally learned that linguini was just another type of pasta. Brandon watched Alan pick at his food; his usual healthy appetite wasn't there. It was too soon for the boy to worry about his figure, models usually got to that phase at some point. Something else was on his mind.

Once the meal was done Alan still had half the food left on his plate but said he was full. Alan paid the bill and they rode the elevator back upstairs. Jack gave them a smile and went into his place to call Barry; Brandon led them into the living room for a talk.

"Something special on your mind, sweetie?" He asked.

"Not really, homesick and a little tired that's all," Alan replied.

Brandon cuddled the boy in his lap and Alan smiled, this was the reassurance he sought.

"It's hard to imagine how you must feel," Brandon said. "Just a short while ago your life was so simple, everything was so easy but not very nice. Then you met me, we fell in love and all this happened. It's a lot for anyone to absorb."

He kissed the boy gently, affectionately. "But the best part of all this is that we get to do it together. Becoming famous almost overnight is pretty scary, but I know you can handle it. I've watched you take on business tycoons and the news media; it was like you were born to handle those situations. A lot of boys your age would have folded under the pressure, but not you."

Another kiss and a warm hug followed. "No matter how hard it gets I'm with you all the way. I never met anyone like you, sweetie. All the beauty, the smiles and the sweetness mean nothing to me, I love what's inside of you, I love what's in your heart ... I always will."

Alan was crying softly by the time Brandon finished, he needed the release. For so long he had felt like nothing he could do was right, that even God condemned him. All this sudden glory and fame seemed so distant and he felt undeserving. But the people in this new life seemed to know better, he had to put the past behind.

It was hard; some things had been so deeply ingrained that only now his sense of self worth was beginning to surface. Brandon understood these feelings, and now he felt the boy could finally push those thoughts away and move on. But something was missing, something the boy wanted back in his life very much ... Alan needed to renew his faith in God.

It was a difficult issue, hard for someone who had no faith at all. But Brandon knew he had to do something for the boy, he had to help Alan regain that missing piece. For love meant being the source of everything the boy needed in life. He would have to help Alan find his faith again and here in New York, with the largest gay population in the country, that didn't seem impossible.

And as Brandon cuddled the boy in his arms, the tears subsided. If this loving creature could have such faith in him, how could he deny the boy anything that important? His own feelings about God aside, Alan needed spiritual guidance. For somewhere in that wonderful mind lay the seeds of love, for him and for God. Because Alan still believed the Creator of everything had brought them together, had meant for them to be in love. Brandon could think of no better or noble reason to love the boy than to help him regain his faith.

Brandon put Alan to bed fairly quickly after that emotional outburst; the boy was exhausted by the day's events. He gave the boy a kiss and watched him fall asleep. No matter how many times he did this it would never grow old. These were supreme moments of joy that made him realize how lucky he was to have Alan in his life.

Brandon walked back out to the kitchen and opened the cabinet where he had seen the city directory before. He found several listings under churches that advertised their gay affiliations, but how would he know which one to choose? Taking Alan out in public and to a gay church would be risky, what if they were seen? Jack wouldn't approve, but he had to be there too. It was time to have that conversation about Alan's needs.

Brandon walked across the hall and knocked. Jack opened the door with a quizzical look.

"Everything OK?" He asked.

"Fine, Alan is asleep ... I need some advice," Brandon said.

"Sure, come on in ... I was just reading," Jack said.

The little apartment was pretty nice, Brandon noticed. It had probably been a maid's quarters in the past, but it had all the amenities. Jack had been reading on the couch, the book still lay open on the end table.

"I don't mean to bother you ... " Brandon began.

"No bother, you're welcome any time. What's up?"

"Do you believe in God?" Brandon asked.

Jack smiled. "If you'd been shot at as many times as I have and wondered why all the bullets missed you wouldn't be asking me that. I don't understand all the religious fervor in this world, but I have a very personal relationship to the Big Man upstairs."

"I understand, it's something like that with me as well, but Alan is different. Despite all the hell in his life he believes that God brought us together for a reason. I can't refute that, I don't want to."

"He mentioned being a Baptist, they're pretty harsh about the gay issue," Jack said.

"I can give him all the love he needs, but I can't give him God. I want to find a gay church here for him to attend, to renew that sense of spirituality. You can imagine the problem that will cause, that's why I came to you," Brandon said.

Jack smiled. "Yeah, that's an issue. We could vet the church, disguise the boy, even arrive in a cab two blocks away and still someone might notice him. Would some personal counseling with a minister help the situation?"

"I don't know, I think he wants to feel a part of a church. In his mind it will reconnect him to faith, something that's missing right now."

Brandon went on to explain Alan's early life and the father. The boy's mother had been his true spiritual guide and at her death Alan lost touch with his church. The questions Alan had asked those first two days still haunted Brandon's thoughts. And now he knew it was the missing piece, the one thing that would make Alan happy again.

Jack smiled, "You really are good for him. I see what he thinks of you in his eyes, the boy is totally committed. As I said, you're a lucky man so I see what this means for you both, we'll have to come up with a solution."

"I don't want to cause you any security issues," Brandon said.

"You let me worry about that, you have enough on your hands. Barry will be here Thursday; he's ready to hand over responsibility. I can't thank you enough, this means a lot to me ... to us both."

"Do you think a disguise would work, or would Alan feel like a total fake?"

"Sometimes the smallest touch hides the biggest things. I'll work on it, OK?"

"Thanks, Jack. I was afraid you would hate the idea," Brandon said.

"I do, it would better if we wrapped him in cotton balls and kept him in a box, but that's not realistic ... and this is. I'll ask around, find us a good church ... you'll be attending I take it?"

"I'd do anything for Alan."

"Then it will be a foursome next Sunday, count on it."

Brandon gave the man a hug and it felt like he was wrapping his arms around a tree. But this tree had a heart of gold. Brandon knew he had an ally and not just a watchdog.

Alan looked sharp for the lunch meeting the following day at the client's hotel, a fact not lost on the small group of Italians sitting across the conference table. They had the portfolio pictures of Alan and a portfolio of their own. Someone had done sketches of their clothing line and they spent a good deal of time comparing the sketches to the photos.

"I am sorry," Mr. Delveccio, their leader said. "We are trying to imagine your athletic figure in our clothing, excuse me please."

One of the others smiled at Alan and asked a question in Italian, Delveccio translated.

"Excuse me, Mr. Forensa would like to know which sports you have played to achieve such a ... robust figure. This information is not in your portfolio materials."

Alan smiled. "I had no time for sports, Mr Delveccio. Please tell Mr. Forensa that I worked on my father's farm, and now I have a fitness trainer."

Delveccio smiled and translated the answer. Forensa smiled at the answer and nodded at Alan graciously. They went back to chattering about the portfolio and then Delveccio smiled once again.

"The American image of our company is very important. You have a superb look, far above what the average young man of your age is like. I ask you, do you feel that young men of your age will be ... um, challenged by your appearance, will they identify with our product?"

Theresa frowned. So far all the questioning had been to Alan, the Italians seemed quite taken with the boy. Brandon sat back and smiled, very certain that Alan could handle the question.

"I understand your concerns," Alan began. "Boys of my age are engaged in so many activities, sports, school and many social things as well. I see your clothing as a step above the ordinary Wal-Mart fare. A boy may choose his friends, but his mother will buy the clothing.

"So to answer your question, I am the image that mothers want to see. If you want those jeans or those shirts," He said, gesturing at the pile of samples on the table. "If you want to see those fine clothes on every kid in America then you will have to sell it to their mothers first.

"Boys grow so fast. I love the loose fitting pants and the shirts as well. Clothing is an investment for many folks; at least you give them something that may last a few years while their boys grow up." And here Alan paused, returning to that winning smile.

"I grew up wearing farm clothing, but that's not the image I projected at school. I wanted to look good at school, everyone does. It's what makes you stand out in the crowd, what makes you special. I think boys can be pretty vain, probably more than girls. They want to look good and I think that's what you're selling here, the image of something special."

Delveccio nodded and the group went back to chattering. Then for the first time Forensa spoke.

"You have training, this is because of your work schedule? It is important for maintaining your image I am sure; will you continue this working on your physical?"

"Sure," Alan replied. "My trainer goes with me everywhere."

He turned to Jack who was sitting against the wall and nodded. Jack stood up and nodded to the gentlemen. One look at that hunk of a man and Forensa's eyes widened, that answered his questions.

Delveccio smiled and finally looked at Theresa. "I believe we shall conclude this agreement. Mr. Bennett is a most satisfactory representative for our product. When shall we begin with the campaign?"

Theresa grinned. "To hit the trades by spring I think we had better start right away to meet their deadlines for the layout. Next week perhaps?"

Delveccio nodded. "Most acceptable."

He stood up and reached across the table to Alan, shaking his hand. They all shook hands with the boy and then gathered to talk with Theresa.

Alan pulled Brandon aside. "And what was that all about, they didn't let Theresa say anything. She's got to be pissed."

"In some countries men do all the business, Italians are like that. You did very well, Theresa is very happy so calm down," Brandon said.

Alan chuckled. "Did you see Forensa look at Jack? I think the little guy shot a wad in his pants."

"He can dream all he wants. Guess we're off to California next week, been a while since I've been there," Brandon said.

Theresa walked over and placed a hand on Alan's shoulder. "You did a fantastic job, they really like you."

"I'm sorry, they just seemed to zero in on me," Alan said.

Theresa sighed. "Sweetie, Italian men are so ... never mind, you did all the right things. But I think the Chinese are going to be a little bit more difficult. I don't mind you taking the lead, it's unusual but if that's the way they want it ... "

"We're like a tag team, Theresa. I'll beat them up and you go for their wallet."

She laughed and gave the boy a hug. "I'm grateful, and to prove it you just won a five percent commission on the sale. You get me the Chinese and we'll double that."

Alan smiled, having no idea what she meant by that, but it sounded good. They were all escorted off to lunch by Delveccio, who led them to a private dining room. Forensa did his best to entertain them as they were seated, explaining that many Italians did not eat lunch. And once again Alan stepped right in.

"I read that many people in your country don't eat dinner like we do here, preferring to eat a late meal instead, " He said.

"Yes, this is true," Forensa replied. "At many times of the year it is very hot even until the hours before midnight. I grew up without the luxuries of air cooling the house; we ate our meal on the roof in the late evening. Only then did the wind bring cool air off the bay in Napoli and wash away the heat of the day."

Alan smiled. "Our house didn't have air conditioning either. But we had huge trees that kept off the sun and in the evening my mother would set our dinner out on the porch."

Forensa seemed to think about this. "I remember my father would bring his music box, the accordion, and play songs for us. My mother would give me a glass of wine to drink, but it was mostly water. It is good to have such memories, it makes a man strong."

"Did you have snow in Napoli?" Alan asked.

"Never snow, sometimes it was cool, but we were too close to the continent of Africa where great dust storms would fly across the sea and blanket the city like a cloud. I remember many days shut inside my house from this dust, and then the heat was terrible."

Delveccio laughed, "And I was from the north in Verona, where the great snow capped mountains made me freeze in winter. But one may add clothing to stay warm, poor Forensa had no way to stay cool except by running around in his skin."

Alan smiled at the thought. "We had a creek running through the farm, and the water that came down from the Appalachians was very cold. A refreshing place to swim in summer."

Lunch was served much like any true Italian meal. Bread and oil with a generous dose of garlic, followed by a pasta soup and then the salad for the final course. The conversation about boyhood homes continued, and Brandon watched the boy win the hearts and minds of the Italians. Theresa sat silently and studied the whole affair, Alan was astounding.

It was only on the limo ride back to the office that she finally spoke up, and what she had to say amazed them all.

"Alan, I don't know where you learned your people skills, but I have a proposition for you. One of these days you won't feel like modeling anymore ... "

"I love modeling ... " Alan began.

"I know, sweetie, but let me finish," Theresa said. "One of these days you'll grow tired of the game, everyone does ... it just happens. But you finish your studies and I'll assure you of a place on my staff. I've never made that offer to a sixteen year old boy before, but then I've never met anyone quite like you.

"There is just something ... something special about the way you deal with people. You have an instinct for what makes them happy. At first I thought it was just boyish charm, but it's deeper than that. You identify with our clients on a baser level; you get into their hearts and minds. Delveccio said as much to me today.

"So think about it, we have time. At least when you are grown this will be something I know you can do well. Talk it over with Brandon when you get the chance, I don't need an answer now."

Alan smiled. "I will."

The limo dropped them off at the condo and Jack opened the door to let them out. Brandon knew the boy had a lot on his mind but would wait until they were alone behind closed doors. And then they were.

"I don't understand," Alan said as he shrugged off his coat.

Brandon sat them down on the couch to explain. "Theresa has good instincts and that's all she's telling you. It would be better for her to give you a place on her team than have you working in competition."

"Would I be managing other models?"

"Yes, it's more than just a sales job; her work is very creative on many levels. She admires your people skills. But do you now what else happened today?" Brandon asked.

"No ... oh, the commission, I don't understand that."

"It means a lot of money, that's what. Five percent is nothing to sneeze at. If she gets a million dollar contract with Delveccio then you just made fifty thousand dollars."

"Wow ... you're kidding, I didn't do anything to deserve that," Alan laughed.

"Yes you did, you sealed the contract. It's called incentive money, a sales commission. And when the Italians begin their clothing campaign Theresa will receive residuals, um, payment every time they use your face in an advertisement."

"But what do you get?" Alan asked.

"Me? I'll get royalties on your photos, but best of all ... I get to love you."

On to Chapter Ten

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