It had been a long day and Alan felt tired. "Dinner with friends," Theresa had said, and he had to get dressed up. He tied the bow with painstaking care and smoothed down the satin collar. Some fancy dinner this would be, he hated wearing a tuxedo.

But he wasn't a fool; Brandon had taught him to read the woman like a book. If Theresa was planning something ... it didn't matter, Bobby would be back tomorrow. His birthday was coming up; maybe this had something to do with that? Eighteen years old, Lord, had he survived that long?

It had been eighteen months since 'the incident,' the only way they described it now. The months following had been painful, mostly for Brandon. But as he watched this wonderful man go through hell it only increased the feelings they shared. God, Brandon had been so brave.

The bedroom was back to normal now, the hospital equipment removed. The only thing that remained was the wheel chair. At least Brandon could move around the condo, or roll himself across the hall to see Jack and Barry. But he never gave up trying and Alan had nothing but admiration for the effort. One of these days Brandon would walk again ... he had to.

The surgery to his spine had rebuilt the structure, but the nerves would take longer to heal. To Brandon it was a challenge and he worked on it every day. But finally he was back in the studio and Alan always felt better with Brandon behind the camera.

But riding in darkened limos and sneaking out back doors wherever he went was getting old. Alan understood what the fans wanted but he was beginning to doubt where all this was going. Being the sexual fantasy of a million teenage girls didn't seem like much of a life anymore, although Bobby seemed to be enjoying himself.

It was moments like these when Alan remembered that little log house in the Carolinas, the place he still called home. But only because Brandon had made it that way, it was the place they began their shared life. Now there was this big empire built around his image, he couldn't just walk away, legally he couldn't.

The image that stared back at him from the dressing mirror was familiar; it was just that the eyes that had changed. They were tired eyes; he was worn down from all the adulation. His fingers traced the faint line of the scar on his cheek, he was almost proud of it now. Physically Alan knew he was in the best shape of his life, Jack had seen to that. Lord that man worked him hard.

And Brandon, for a man in a wheel chair he was still so very strong. Alan smiled, yes, he was still sexy too. Bobby had been out of town this past week, off to some photo shoot with Steve Barnes in Mexico. It had taken some practice but Brandon was back in the sex game.

All that physical therapy had given Brandon his flexibility back; at least he could raise his legs now. And even as Alan looked down on Brandon and moved into him slowly he worried. What if he got hurt, what if the pains came back? But for now all he heard were groans of pleasure.

If anything all those months of abstinence made Brandon a huge success when they returned to loving one another. All those solo ejaculation sessions had given Brandon the staying power of a hero. But then no one had ever pleased Alan so much, not even Bobby.

Alan shared a unique love with that sweet boy from paradise, but their sexual desires had waned as Brandon came back to the game. It had really come as no surprise when Bobby said he'd been thinking of this boy he'd met while on the road.

Bobby had been traveling around with Steve Barnes and his young nephew, Matthew. From what Alan had seen Matty was an exceptionally smart young man, he didn't wonder at Bobby's attraction. The boy was a year younger but that made what they shared sweeter, it gave Bobby a chance to shine.

Alan shook his head, OK ... time to get on the road. Brandon was at the dining room table in his bathrobe but he looked up with a smile as Alan walked in.

"Oh wow, what hot stuff you are," Brandon said.

"I'd just as soon stay home tonight. Theresa and her fancy dinners bore me," Alan replied. "I wish you were coming."

Brandon smiled. "I can't sit still that long, you know that. Tell you what, call me when you're on the way home and I'll draw us a nice hot bath before bed."

"Bubbles?" Alan asked ... a grin on his face.

"Lots of bubbles, just the way you like it."

"Deal. Sure you'll be OK?" Alan asked.

"Barry will come over, he likes that doctor show on television and I'll pretend to watch it with him. You be good and try to enjoy the evening," Brandon said.

lan gave him a long lingering kiss. "I'll be thinking of you the whole time. God, I love you."

"I love you too, now get on before Jack comes breaking down the door ... bye sweetie."

"Later, Brand." And Alan left.

Barry would be there in twenty minutes, enough time for a shower. Brandon wheeled himself into the bathroom and right into the shower. They'd made a few changes, he'd insisted on doing things for himself. Now he could leverage himself onto the shower bench and push the chair back out of the enclosure.

Brandon didn't feel handicapped; this was just a large bump in the road. He leaned over to turn on the shower and adjusted the temperature before he stood up.

He had first stood three months ago, feeling his legs wobble a bit but the strength was back. Those first sessions had given him confidence enough to take his first steps. Brandon was afraid of failure so he made Jack swear to keep the secret. Unbeknownst to the world, Brandon could walk again ... even if it was baby steps.

Brandon had known the truth about this 'dinner with friends' Theresa had casually mentioned ... Alan didn't have a clue. But there was one thing for certain; when Brandon showed up he would be walking.

Barry came over on time and helped Brandon into his tux. They left to go pick up Bobby and Matty, it was time to get the show on the road. And across the city:

Theresa led Alan down the carpeted aisle. He'd never been in the Brickman Theatre before, but he knew about it. Theresa had told him this was a charity affair and there would be entertainment. The long runway was still in place, for this was also a strong venue for modeling shows.

Tables had been set up, and most of them were filled with guests. Alan recognized quite a few people, some from Stanford, and others by reputation. For the past year Alan had come to know his competition quite well, they were often at the same shows.

Although Alan's career didn't include walking a runway on display, he had attended these gatherings. The business life included a good deal of socializing, something Bobby liked better than he did.

Carlos was at their table along with a few of the Stanford stable. Most of them were friendly to him now, although the tension of competition was always beneath the surface. The boys were beautiful. Alan recognized this but he wasn't attracted to them. By now most of them recognized his commitment to Brandon; it was the big in-house secret at Stanford.

But the knowledge went nowhere as most of the models were afraid of Theresa, and Alan found that amusing. To him she was an old softie. They settled in their seats and the dinner menu was under his plate. Nothing seemed to appeal, so he ordered the salad and a fruit cup.

"Not hungry?" Theresa asked.

"Just tired, we had a long week in the studio," Alan replied.

Theresa smiled with sympathy. Alan's problem would soon be changed, she just couldn't tell him yet. Dinner was served and a small orchestra played in the background. It was a quiet evening so far, and Alan was grateful.

By the time dinner ended Alan noticed there wasn't an empty seat in the house, and then the curtain rose. For the first time in months Alan saw that gravely voiced actor as he walked on stage and the audience applauded.

"Good evening. I was asked to MC this shindig for several reasons, the least of which is my undying love of talking in front of a room full of handsome young men." He leered and the audience broke up laughing.

"Oh yes, the cream of the crop is here tonight and I feel like a farmer once again." More laughter.

"Oh my, this is better than that little place in the Village where I got my start ... no wait, that was in the shower room at the YMCA." Laughter.

"Seriously, I was asked here this evening to make nice and introduce some talented young folks. Every profession has a moment when new talent is recognized. I made the mistake of going for gold in films; maybe I should be grateful it never happened. An Oscar would only clash with my drapes." Laughter and applause this time.

"So to get on with the festivities, let me introduce the hosts for the awards this evening, Billy Marshall and Miss Denise Rogers ... the Ken and Barbie of the fashion world."

Applause followed him off stage as he bowed out, turning the podium over to Denise and Billy. Alan knew Denise quite well; Billy was from ATN Studios, both of them quite famous in their day.

"Good evening," Denise said. "Billy and I are here to present the awards in several categories this evening. The votes were tallied from agencies and fashion magazines throughout the industry."

"The first category is presented for makeup and design," Billy said, handing Denise an envelope.

Denise smiled and tore open the envelope before reading. "Andrea Mills, of Barlow Studios," She announced.

Alan applauded along with the others. He hadn't know this was to be an awards program, Theresa had said nothing. Her silence could only mean one thing ... he was here for a reason.

He knew the statistics; his face garnered more attention than the President. America knew Alan Bennett very well, just sometimes Alan didn't know if he knew himself anymore. Everyone wanted the glamorous image; no one seemed to reach inside for the truth.

If it wasn't for Brandon, Jack and Barry, Alan would have walked away, even if it did mean violating his contract with Theresa. Now he was sure the industry was going to give him an award for something. Youngest burnout seemed to be a good choice.

"The award for poise and grace on the runway goes to ... Darlene Richards, of Wentworth Studios," Denise said. More applause as Darlene rushed up to the stage. The award itself was a crystal star on a golden base, and Darlene held it out while the applause continued.

"I want to thank all of you ... " and the voice faded from Alan's consciousness.

That last Teen Star event took over his thoughts. Hundreds of little girls screamed as he walked through the door into the courtyard of the shopping mall. He had waved to them, clapped his hands in appreciation of their presence and then sat down on a stool to talk.

The microphone emitted a little feedback and he mocked anger at the device for a second before he began with that smile.

"Thank you all for coming, I didn't know Trenton had so many lovely young ladies."

He couldn't hear a thing from the screams that line elicited. It was all a stock speech written out by his handler, Lucy Briggs wrote the scripts. Alan continued with a little inside look at his travels in the business, the famous people he'd met and the future commitments he had planned.

Then he was off the little stage and sitting behind a table to sign autographs. His hand would be numb by the time this was over, but the smile never dimmed. He knew these girls had certain expectations of the boy they adored, he did the best he could to meet them.

Most of them were dressed nicely, Sunday best he imagined, with their parents hovering somewhere out there in the mall. Others came dressed to maximize their sex appeal, parroting a suggestive pose for his benefit. Model wannabies, little sluts in the making. Alan wondered what their parents thought.

After an hour of appearance Alan stood up and waved good-bye, more screams ... even some crying as he left the arena. Lucy would stay behind and hand out pre-signed photos to those who had missed out the personal touch. That had been Alan's idea.

For if anyone in this cold hard industry understood the expectations of these young people it was Alan. He could not bear the thought of their disappointment even though he cringed at the budding sexuality they displayed. Being an idol meant he understood what they sought, he was sure they even masturbated to the dreams of his attentions.

Theresa laid a hand on his arm, snapping Alan back to the present. And his ears tuned into the sound from the stage.

"It's been a long time since modeling has seen such a promising young star," Denise said. "His face is everywhere, his smile lights up our world."

Theresa gripped his arm and Alan smiled back at her. "This is your moment, sweetie," She said.

"The vote was unanimous; America's brightest new talent award goes to ... " And Denise didn't even bother to open the envelope. "Alan Bennett, of the Stanford Agency."

Her last words were drowned out by thunderous applause and Theresa leaned over to give Alan a hug. Alan rose to his feet and bowed to the audience before he took the stage. Denise and Billy had backed away, joining the applause. And Alan stood puzzled ... the award?

And then from behind the curtain Brandon appeared, his wheel chair pushed slowly by Bobby who seemed beyond joy at this special moment. Alan took a few steps and Brandon held up a hand. Bobby held the chair still, and Brandon rose to his feet.

The ten steps to the podium seemed like a mile, but Brandon took them. And as he reached out to embrace Alan the theatre felt like it was under demolition. Everyone in that audience knew the story, these steps were incredibly meaningful and cheers joined the applause.

Alan only saw the look of love on Brandon's face, even the crystal star in his hand meant nothing. Brandon had walked. And together they turned to the audience, holding hands, showing their commitment.

Tears were streaming down Alan's face as he took the podium. Bobby wheeled the chair over and Brandon sat back down. The audience was still on its feet as Bobby leaned over to hug Alan in his moment of glory. But they soon quieted to hear what the young man had to say.

Alan looked down at the crowd. Theresa, Jack ... and Barry who had appeared at their table. These people meant the world to him; he had to give them thanks. Alan didn't even bother to wipe away the tears, he wore them proudly.

"Thank you ... " Alan said, clearing his throat, stopping to look down at Brandon once again. "Thank all of you ... Someone said don't hate me when the going gets tough ... I don't ... I love him even more.

"Two years ago I joined the Stanford Agency with absolutely no idea what a ride this career would give me. It still isn't over and I haven't even turned eighteen. I stand before you with all humility, I feel like I've really accomplished something.

"But I have discovered something important along the way. Even as the economy seems on a downturn, America needs us more than ever. We reach something in the lives of so many people, we give them beauty and grace, we give them an ideal. I see it in the eyes of every young lady I meet, they want me there, they want us before them ... they have such hope and we're a part of it.

"We represent the hope of America because they are comfortable with us. It's like we've become their friends, their family ... we're a part of their lives. And I see that as a great responsibility, a task I must uphold to meet that ideal.

"They see beyond the products we market, they see something special, something that gives them joy. My image is no different than that of a film star, a politician or a celebrity in any way of life. We are nothing without their need to see that ideal in everyday life. I love what I do for them; I will always want to do more."

And then Alan reached out for Brandon's hand, turning the microphone so he could stand beside the wheel chair.

"And by the grace of God, none of this would have been possible without the love I share with this man. I am committed to him more then ever; he is what my life is all about. Thank you all for being here." And with that Alan leaned down and kissed Brandon for the world to see.

The audience was a little stunned but they rose to applaud his speech. Theresa wasn't going to like this if the word got out, and it would. Too many competitors would just love the ammunition to unseat Alan's hold on the industry ... and he had given it to them.

Brandon looked in Alan's eyes and smiled. "This might be career suicide you know."

"I don't care, you mean more to me than all this ever will," Alan said.

"So ... had enough have we?" Brandon asked.

"Yeah ... I guess, for a while. Theresa will go off the deep end."

"Let her, we can take the money and run. There's nothing in your contract about coming out as gay, I made sure of that."

"Now we better run and hide I suppose," Alan said. "Got just the thing for that," Brandon said. "Bobby ... "

Bobby grinned and handed Alan an envelope. "What's this?" He asked.

"Our tickets to paradise, the escape plan is now in motion," Brandon laughed.

It would be like returning home, there were six of them now, only Matty had never seen paradise before ... but he would.

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