Gene was standing beside one of the solid pillars that held up the courthouse. Long ago Ben had decided to become one of those pillars himself, figuratively that is, justice was in his blood. What the kid didn't need to know was anything about Ben's sexual orientation, at least not at present. Their relationship needed to be on a different plane so he intentionally refused to notice the prominent bulge at the front of Gene's jeans.

"You ready to go?" Ben asked.

"Where to?" the boy replied.

"Don't know about you but I need something to eat, let's walk across to Irene's, they serve a mean omelet," Ben suggested.

"Do they have a bathroom?" Gene asked.

"They sure do, I have to wash up anyway."

They walked across the square and dodged the morning traffic on Third Street. Ben held the door to Irene's Place for Gene and the kid entered without giving him a glance.

"Bathroom's at the back," Ben said, giving Irene a nod and a smile.

"Mornin, Ben," she called. "Table for two?"

"Yup, be right back, darlin," he replied.

Gene had already made a B-line for the Men's room and Ben followed along a few steps behind. There was only one urinal but the boy ignored that and stepped into the toilet stall. Ben stepped up to the sink and began to wash his hands. He could almost hear the boy sigh as his zipper came down. A hard stream of built up water began to hit the toilet bowl with the ferocity of a fire hose.

Ben almost chuckled at the sound, imagining the boy probably had quite a hose between his legs. After all he was a country boy and you know what they say about those skinny ones. Gene's piss lasted for almost a full minute, enough time for Ben to wash his hands and pull several paper towels from the dispenser on the wall.

The toilet flushed and Gene stepped out from the stall and smiled.

"Man, I needed that."

"You could have come into the courthouse and used the bathroom," Ben said.

"Naw, it just hit me all of a sudden," the boy replied and then began to blush.

Was it because they both knew he'd had a piss hard erection? Ben moved aside from the sink so Gene could wash his hands and made the mistake of checking out the kid's crotch. The zipper was only halfway up and Ben could see the blue fabric of the kid's boxers through the opening. But that wasn't all, Gene still had that hard on underneath it all and the head of his cock was pushing the boxer fabric out through the opening.

He has to feel it there, Ben thought ... didn't he? Why boys his age were determined to keep their cocks straight up in their pants and tucked in under the waistband no one will ever know, but Ben knew he had done it too. Now if he called attention to the zipper Gene would certainly be embarrassed, but if nothing was said then matters could get worse. He had to call attention to that damn zipper.

Ben tossed the paper towel at the trash can and missed, bouncing it off the sink instead and causing it to hit the boy's thigh. Fortunately Gene looked down at the towel and Ben turned away to give him time to restore his zipper to its proper position. Ben never missed what he aimed at. Four years of high school basketball taught him that much.

Gene smiled again as Ben held the bathroom door for him, noticing the zipper back in place where it belonged. Unfortunately the bulge was still there too. The boy had hidden talent and Ben supposed it was now part of his job to find out what Gene was doing with it.

They sat at a table against the wall and Irene placed a full coffee mug in front of Ben. She smiled at Gene.

"What'll you have to drink, sweetie?" she asked.

"Uh ... " was all the boy managed.

She ran her fingers across his forehead and brushed the hair back out of his eyes. Gene looked up at her and Irene smiled back. "You have nice hair, hun, it's so soft. But you better speak up cause I have lots of customers this mornin."

"Order what you like, Gene, breakfast is on me today."

"I'll take a sweet tea, please," he said and Irene turned away to get his drink.

Ok, the kid had no money in his pocket, probably none at home either. Why any self respecting parent would let a kid out the door without a couple of dollars in their pocket was beyond Ben's comprehension, guessing he would have to buy lunch too.

"How did you get to the courthouse this morning? Did your mom bring you?" he asked.

"Mom ... ? No, she's still in bed, I guess. I had a friend drive me over on his way to school."

Just about what he figured. This was a court appearance for a minor, if anything one of his parents should have been present, but Ben had known they wouldn't. He was asking for a continuance anyway so it didn't matter this morning. But the woman had better be there for the next court date. Ben made a mental note so see what he could do to subpoena her lazy ass.

"Then you have a good friend in him, give him my thanks. And now, I am gonna have the western omelet, with a side order of tomatoes and maybe some hash browns. How about you?"

"I'm not hungry, thanks," Gene said.

"Yes you are," Ben said. "I never met a boy that couldn't eat at least twice what I'm planning to have. I don't want to hear your stomach complain while we're waiting in court so you better eat now. In fact, I am going to buy you lunch as well so you better get used to the idea."

Gene looked at him and Ben could see wheels turning in this kid's head. The boy didn't understand him yet, he was puzzled. But still, there was more than curiosity behind those baby blues. "Why ... why you bein' so nice to me?" Gene asked.

The words hit Ben like a ton of bricks ... and suddenly he knew. They teach psychology students how to analyze patterns of speech in shrink school because people tend to hide their true feelings when questioned. This was nothing like that. This was right out in the open where he could read the bold print. It was the sound of a child that had been there before ... and been burned.

To say that Gene mistrusted adults was probably too easy. He had an experience or two under his belt that had taught him to question everyone's motives. Child abuse was a possibility, but then there were a dozen other things it could be. But when the boy questioned the mere fact that someone would feed him ... it made Ben shudder deep inside. He smiled at Gene, attempting to disarm those internal thoughts. He had to, their work was just beginning.

"For several reasons, Gene. I hate to eat alone, or maybe I don't want your stomach growling in front of the judge, yelling 'feed me, feed me.' Or maybe I happen to know that you don't have any money in your pocket and I'm just a nice rich guy. But you wanna know the real truth? I can write this off as a business expense and make the school board pay for it, those silly old farts."

Gene's eyes got big and a grin lit up his face.

"Man, you are some kind of crazy, huh?"

"Shh, not too loud, you'll be giving away all my secrets." Ben looked at the boy's reaction and couldn't hold back any longer, he gave a loud laugh and settled back in just as Irene brought the tea.

Gene just shook his head as if wondering just what kind of nut case he had latched onto. Ben gave Irene his order and she looked expectantly at the boy. Gene smiled.

"I'll have the same, please."

"Good for you, be right up guys," Irene said.

After she left Ben returned his gaze to the boy. He was happy now, a mood swing for sure, but only because he was hungry.

"So you think I'm crazy, huh?" Ben asked. "Not that I want to be mean about it, but you're the one who couldn't stop calling that teacher names."

"I ... I didn't say it to be mean. Hanover is ok, I just didn't ... well, I didn't know how to say what I wanted to ask him. It all came out wrong, I guess," Gene said.

"I suppose that's one way to look at it, at least now that you've had time to think about it. Do you suppose you just opened your mouth before you engaged your brain?"

Ben wasn't trying to give Gene an excuse for what he did, but the boy's behavior was beginning to form a pattern in his mind. Kids that are ignored seem to talk faster and think less about what they might say. Attention deficit disorder children are like that. The communication between parts of the brain that control rational thought and speech didn't always cooperate the way they should. Outbursts of name calling were also signs of Tourettes, although he didn't see the other classical signs of that malady in Gene.

He wasn't about to rush into a diagnosis after one meeting, but it always set the wheels spinning when Ben first met a client. There would be time enough to understand the boy and what motivated him. But there was a lot more to discover before even approaching any conclusions that he might present to the court.

Gene was looking at Ben, that puzzled look had returned to his face.

"What are you thinking?" he asked. "Looks like you went inside your head there for a moment."

"Hmm, I did ... sorry. You know I learned a lot about people and what makes them tick when I was at school. That's the nature of my business with you and the court. There will be times when I might have to ask you some uncomfortable questions, but you always have the right not tell me. At some point I am going to have to tell the court something about you, good or bad, it's not my choice to make."

"You want me to be honest, don't you?"

"Absolutely, Gene, it's important that you do. But you might have to learn something else first and that might be harder."

"What's that?"

"You have to learn that no matter what you say to me that no one else will know if you don't want them to. You have complete confidentiality with me; do you understand what that means?"

"You're not gonna tell anyone what I say?"

"Exactly right. It's a level of trust you have yet to understand. I am here for you and you alone, nobody else. But that won't make it easy. Sometimes a person has bad experiences in life and they don't trust people easily, I understand that. I know we all want to trust our friends or our family, but what we have is even better, its special, and no one can get me to talk about the things you tell me in trust."

Gene looked at him, the puzzlement gone from his eyes. Now he knew where they stood, he and Ben could be special.

"That's cool," Gene said. "It's like a best friend ... only better."

"You got that right," Ben said.

And without asking or even hinting that they were on the same wavelength, both raised their right hands and high-fived right there at the table. They both broke up laughing at the gesture and Irene was the one who looked puzzled as she lay their breakfast out on the table.

Gene tried very hard not to wolf down his food, which would be giving too much away. He was really thin and to Ben's eye malnourished, it spoke volumes about his caregivers. Ben didn't want to paint the boy's mother as uncaring; he had not even met her yet. But he would, and very soon.

The word stepfather often seemed to imply a lack of caring towards another's children, but Ben knew that wasn't always the case. Some men rose to the occasion and were wonderful fathers; it was often the kids who had a hard time accepting the relationship.

But he couldn't know when Gene had last had a decent meal, and he knew better than to ask.

"So what do you think? A great omelet or what?" Ben asked between bites.

"Yeah, you were right about that, I never had better," Gene said.

"Well, she left out the mushrooms and anchovies this time, I'm upset."

Gene's fork hesitated halfway to his mouth, "Eww, you don't mean you like those things ... do you?"

Ben snickered and Gene saw a twinkle in his eye, just kidding. The boy shook his head and slid the food in his mouth. 'Crazy man,' he mumbled under his breath. But he was beginning to like this crazy guy. It was like the man understood him a lot more than he realized. Well why not; he was still a young guy, barely twice as old.

They had become silent as they ate. Wasn't like they needed to share words but Ben could feel the boy's attitude changing. He was more accepting, more willing to understand. Ben didn't mistake that as trust, it was too soon, the kid didn't even know him.

And if he did, what would that mean? If he knew Ben was a gay man would it destroy the budding feelings they shared? How insecure the boy felt about gay people was bound to become a part of their discussion at some point. There was no good reason to out himself at this point, it would be selfish. That's not why Gene needed him here and now ... but what about later on?

Who was he kidding? Gene was physically attractive, the big bone between his legs and all the rest of him too. But Ben knew he was the adult here and although this wasn't exactly therapy it was close enough for him to feel uncomfortable with these thoughts.

They had some things in common, not much to go on for a relationship though. Gene wasn't anywhere near being sexually interested far as he could tell, but then what did that matter, he was still a kid.

But Ben knew he had undeniable feelings towards the boy, nurturing feelings that he currently expressed as needing to feed him. Sexually Gene was river of testosterone and Ben could almost feel the naughty little boy beneath his semi-adult exterior. Ben would have bet the boy rubbed himself off at least several times a day, but why was he thinking about that?

What was the source of these feelings towards Gene? Was he mentally reverting to childish behavior patterns in an attempt to understand and identify with the boy? Making a comparison of their two distinct childhoods was exceptionally bad form, besides, they were nothing alike. Was this mental masturbation necessary to his understanding of the kid?

Gene had stopped eating and was staring at him again ... oops, Ben had been spacing out.

"What?" Gene said. A funny little laugh escaping his lips.

"Huh ... oh. You ever watch too many movies in a row? My brain was just scanning the files in my head. Sometimes I just get too many things going at once and they all run together. Maybe I need a vacation, sorry."

"No, I understand perfectly," Gene said. "I get like that sometimes. Like if I see too many football games at one time my head can't remember just who did what and when. Then if I try and tell someone about it the whole thing comes out wrong. I like to watch sports and remember the stats, but there are just too many teams to follow all at once, but I like to try anyway."

It was the most concerted effort Gene had made to explain something important about himself, but better yet, he was trying to relate. It was as if he had opened a window and allowed Ben a glimpse into his world.

With breakfast over, they walked back over to the courthouse and went through the security scanner. There was nothing in Gene's pockets, not even a wallet. Ben took him into the courtroom and sat him on a bench towards the front amidst the crowd. Court wasn't even in session, the bench was still empty.

"The judge will be along in a few minutes," Ben told him. "You just sit tight until I come get you, ok?"

"Yeah, will we be here long?"

"No, you won't have to face the judge today."

Ben pushed through the gate and approached Alan Grainger, one of the two prosecutors. He waited for them to finish sorting out the docket.

"Alan, got a sec?"

"Sure, Ben. Have you got a client up today?"

"Yes, Eugene Carr. I need to gain a continuance until I evaluate him."

"Yes ... Carr ... here it is." Alan removed a document from the pile and opened the envelope. He scanned the papers and nodded.

"No bail, no problemo. Um ... how's the twenty-second of next month sound?"

"Good, plenty of time to do a preliminary. Is that in front of Judge Malcolm?"

"Yup, bet you like that ... we aim to please," Alan said.

"Thanks, buddy," Ben said with a pat on his shoulder.

Alan was one of the good guys, and if he ever got tired of prosecutorial work Ben would take him into the business in a heartbeat.

He went back to where Gene sat and gave him a nod. "That's it. We can leave now," Ben said.

Gene looked up and the expression on his face spoke volumes, he wanted out of here. This was the easy part, next month he would have to stand in front of the judge with only a public defender by his side. But by then Ben's report would be on the bench in front of Malcolm's nose. He would be a good judge for this case, well known as a fair man. He had also been Ben's grandfather's law partner before his appointment to the bench.

Gene followed him out of the courthouse, dogging Ben's heels, anxious about what was coming next.

"Mr. Bradshaw ... is that it? I mean for today?" Gene asked.

"Yes, I fixed it with the court. Your case is continued until the twenty-second of next month. Hey, that's right before Thanksgiving ... that will work in our favor. The court will be closed the following day."

"Ok ... what do we do now?" Gene asked.

"You want to go home?" Ben thought about that and realized the boy probably didn't have a ride. "Oh, you'd need a ride ... did you make any arrangements to get home?"

"Uh, I could call my Mom, I guess."

"Come on then, you can use my cell phone, it's in the car."

They walked down the sidewalk towards the rear of the courthouse. It was still a rather warm day and one of the things Ben liked about living here was the mild fall weather. He removed his suit coat and tossed it over his shoulder, loosing the tie as well.

"You hunt, Gene?" Ben asked.

"Yeah, but not in the last few years. Momma won't allow any guns in the house since Daddy left."

"You hunted with your father?"

"Yup, got my first deer when I was twelve, but I like goin after turkey much better."

"And why's that?"

"Much easier to carry back to the truck. I damn near killed myself trying to bring my first deer home."

Ben laughed at the logic but the kid was right. At least he'd had two friends help him bring home that first kill.

"You got brothers and sisters? I'm sorry; guess I don't know that much about your family."

"I got an older sister. She's been married a few years and lives in Virginia. And then there's Dean, but he don't live at home anymore."

"Gene and Dean ... do you still see your brother?" Ben asked.

"Yup ... he's my twin."

Ben almost tripped over the curb when Gene said that. Twins ... oh my. That brought a whole new dynamic into the picture of the boy here. The fact that there could be two cute young men instead of just one was only the first possibility that crossed his mind.

"Identical twins?" Ben asked.

"Yup ... well except he isn't tall as me, but he's got more muscles. Dean is a real jock at school."

Ben stopped dead in his tracks amidst a sea of cars in the vast parking lot.

"Let me get this straight," he said, turning to face the boy. "Dean goes to your school but he doesn't live with you?"

Gene looked uncomfortable all of a sudden. "Uh yeah ... he's in eleventh grade, but I flunked one year so I'm still in tenth ... and he lives with his wrestling coach."

"His coach? Not your father?" Ben said.

"Yeah," Gene replied. "Which car is yours?"

Ben turned back and slid between a mini-van and an Escalade. He didn't want to end this particular train of thought in their conversation but Gene had changed the subject for some reason. Fascinating, there was something more to this, he could just feel it. But then they came to his car parked against the far wall.

"This is your car?" Gene almost yelled. "Wow...it's awesome."

Ben understood the feeling. For years he had always wanted a Corvette and just last summer had made the commitment. It helped that business was good; these things were not cheap by any means. Not that he always bought American cars, but who could resist when they were midnight black with a red leather interior.

"You like?" Ben asked, already knowing the answer.

"You bet, these things are sweet."

"I thought so too when I had to pay for it."

He clicked the key fob, shutting down the alarm system and she squawked at them twice. Gene smiled in appreciation. Ben opened the door and retrieved his cell phone from the center console. He noticed as Gene carefully opened the passenger door and then shut it quietly, squirming into the leather seats. They had never been this close before. Ben knew there was a good reason for wanting this car, it was cozy.

Gene took the offered phone and dialed a number. After a moment the look on his face went from happy to sad.

"She's got the phone off ... I got the answering service, damn."

"That's ok ... do you need to be home right away?" Ben asked.

"Not really. You want to give me a ride home?"

"I can, but I have to stop at the office first. If you don't mind, I think we should have a little talk and then get some lunch before I take you home. Is that all right with you?"

Gene grinned. "That would be great. I really appreciate this Mr. Bradshaw. I'm sorry, but my mom is a real ... um ... "

"Don't," Ben said, holding up a hand to silence the boy. "I'm sorry she isn't up to the task of taking care of you like she should. Being a good parent is difficult at the best of times."

"You have kids?" Gene asked.

"No ... I've never been married."

That stopped the boy's questions for the moment and the silence called for action so Ben started the car. Gene was quickly distracted by the sound and feel of a performance machine. The only thing better than the feel of driving a Vette would probably be an orgasm, Ben thought.

"Put your seatbelt on," he advised, moving the car only after they were both safely belted in.

Ok, I was feeling sorry for myself, Ben thought. He had been at the beach only two months before and seen some hot young guys there, college guys. But Ben was thirty now, too old for that twenty something bunch he guessed. And then there were the suave gentlemen sitting at the bar. Unfortunately Ben knew he would be one of them someday.

They smiled at him until Ben realized in horror that they were looking right through him and at the college boys standing against the wall. Was that his fate in ten years ... twenty years? No, he couldn't let that happen. So where was love going to come from?

This little neck of the woods had no gay scene, nada ... zero. They had coffee shops and bars of the straight kind, but nothing even remotely gay ever happened here. It was pathetic because Ben knew there were gay student organizations at the high school and college level.

Where were these guys after they graduated, did they all flee the state? He felt practically invisible, and thus the Corvette was compensation. At least he still had his manhood. Oh God, a real shrink would have a field day with that one.

He drove down Third and across Church Street towards the shopping district. Gene stared out the windows like a puppy enjoying every minute of the ride. Ben wouldn't have been surprised if the boy had an erection ... well maybe he did, but there was no way he was going to check that out.

Ben took the interstate ramp at a good clip, punching it up to speed and sliding into traffic with ease. Gene was almost drooling at this point so he slid the Creed CD into the disk player to finish the kid off. The hard throbbing bass lines and guitar of 'Higher' blasted from the speakers and set Gene off. He slammed his hands down on his knees in time with the music.

Ben was watching the road carefully but could tell Gene was looking at him ... and he felt thrilled.


On to Chapter Three

Back to Chapter One

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"Gene" Copyright © 27 September 2008 Chris James. All rights reserved.
    This work may not be duplicated in any form (physical, electronic, audio, or otherwise) without the author's written permission. All applicable copyright laws apply. All individuals depicted are fictional with any resemblance to real persons being purely coincidental.

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