Bobby by Michael Peterson © 2007
Part 3He wrapped his arms around me and cried. I dropped to a knee and held him tightly.
“Barney said he was gonna kill me if I din’t go away. Let me come live with you.”
It was immediately apparent why Martha was so concerned about Barney’s opinion of me. The situation with Bobby’s teen half brother was worse than I’d imagined.
I sat on the floor, my back against the wall, no idea what to say. Bobby sat on my lap, his head buried in my chest.
We were in what appeared to be a bedroom of a long empty apartment. The smell of shit and urine came from somewhere. I hoped it was an unflushed toilet. A blanket lay on the floor. I assumed Bobby had slept there. That’s when I noticed another boy in the hallway, just outside the door to the room. He was slightly smaller and much sturdier than Ronald, considerably darker, probably Benny. The look in his eyes was apprehension. I motioned for him to come in.
Bobby said, “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t worry about anything right now. I’m just very, very happy I’ve found you.”
Though mostly overwhelmed with relief at having Bobby in my arms, I was also trying to figure out how to deal with his request to come live with me. As appealing as the thought was, I knew how impossible it would be. My life was too full of travel and other obligations for me to be a decent father. There was no way to put a halt to all that activity without creating a mountain of problems for a lot of people who depended on me. And, I wasn’t sure I’d want to. Bobby could spend some time with me but his life would have to be with his family.
The problem was what to do about Barney. Worse, his mother hadn’t seemed terribly concerned about finding him. She may have found his absence convenient. Were he to return, she might try to have him placed in some God awful foster home which would greatly limit or even put a stop to our seeing each other. I realized at that moment that his music career was second to our relationship, probably for both of us.
“Are you okay?” I asked more to converse than any concern. He seemed physically fine. The look on Ronald’s face clearly told me how much of a friend he was, or perhaps more.
Bobby nodded into my shirt. “Is Mary Jean mad at me?”
“Mary Jean was at your house this morning talking to your mother about me so you can keep making music. She’s crazy about you. We were all very angry about what happened to you but everything’s all right now. The school people have apologized for what they did to you and are going to let you go to whatever school we pick. Everybody understands now what really happened. They all know it wasn’t you fault. I always knew it.”
Bobby gripped me tighter. He tried to whisper something but it didn’t quite come out. He cleared his throat and tried again. “Yes it was.”
Two of his three supposed abusers were standing there in the room where they’d obviously been protecting and feeding him. They might have become friends over time. Kids got over things far faster and better than adults. Nonetheless, at least Benny and Jerome had for along time robbed and hurt him. It was hard to believe the sex hadn’t at the very least been a compromise to stop the pain and aggravation.
“I’m sorry,” he nearly whispered and began to cry softly.
“Bobby, there’s nothing you need to feel sorry for. These boys may be your friends now but they certainly weren’t before. What they did to you before was very bad. You were just defending yourself the only way you could. You didn’t do anything wrong.”
Benny shook his head and walked out of the room.
“You don’t gotta say nothin’, Bobby. He ain’t mad at you.” said Ronald. “He loves you like you said.”
Bobby lifted his head. “Yeah, but he thinks you did stuff to me. Ronald din’t do nothin’ bad to me, or Benny. Maybe Jerome did some stuff but he said he was sorry and din’t do it no more.”
“Because you let him do things to you,” I said.
“Unh uh. He just wanted to do what we were doin’ is all. He din’t make me do nothin’. Nobody made me do nothin’ so how come they’s all in trouble too. It’s ‘cuz a me, cuz I wanted ta do it.”
While I suspected he might have enjoyed some of the sex, it hadn’t occurred to me that he had actually initiated it. That was hard, too hard to believe. Don’t get me wrong, There are definitely kids well under nine years of age who have initiated sex with others. I knew of a situation where a five year old who got bored of using his fingers and pencils and convinced a couple of six and seven year olds to screw him. And he wasn’t Gay or a BL, just horny. But Bobby was so shy. It was hard to imagine him walking up to kid and saying, “Fuck me, please.”
However, that was not the time to dispute anything. I was much too happy to have him in my arms.
Ronald got on his knees beside us, put his hand on Bobby’s shoulder and leaned his head in against Bobby’s back.
I took a breath and said, “Well, there’s nothing to worry about. Everybody’s out of trouble. Everybody’s going to go to school, just someplace else.”
Ronald looked up at me. Bobby sat up, his face wet with tears.
“Everybody?”
“Everybody.”
Ronald called out, “Benny, come ‘ere. We goin’ back ta school. Mr. Simon fixed it up fer ‘erybody.”
Benny walked back, skepticism on his face. “Me too?” he asked pointing at himself. I nodded. “But everybody’s got to behave themselves.”
Benny shrugged but smiled too.
Bobby put his head back against my chest. “I still can’t go home. Can’t I come live wif you?”
“Your mother wants you back, and Sissy. Sissy’s really been worried. She’s the one who called me when you left and talked to me when she wasn’t supposed to but don’t say anything to your mother. She missed you a lot.”
I hoped Martha would welcome him like a mother should but wasn’t sure she was capable, or wanted to.
“But what about Barney?”
“Let me take care of Barney.”
“You can’t stop him. He broke my guitar and sold the piano. He hates me real bad. He’s gonna hurt me, I know.”
“You still gotta let me try, son.” The son just came out. It wasn’t planned but I was glad I said it. This boy was that important to me.
Ronald and Benny walked us to the car. It was a short drive, just three blocks. When we got there, Bobby didn’t want to get out.
“Go see if Barney’s in there?”
It was after four. He probably was. Bobby locked the doors and rolled up the windows after I got out.
As usual, Sissy answered my knock. “Barney’s here, an’ he’s pissed. He don’ want mom to let Bobby back, ‘er you. You find Bobby?”
“He’s in the car. You go see him. I’m gonna talk to Barney.”
She forgot me and rushed out to her little brother. I closed the door behind me.
Barney was sitting on the edge of the sofa. He stood and yelled, “Git outta my house, faggot.”
“Nice to see you too, Barney. We need to talk.”
“Fuck you, git out before I call the cops. I know what you are. You can’t fool me like them niggers so git out.”
Martha hurried in from the kitchen. “Barney, just listen ta him for a minute an’ stop yellin’.”
“Shit, you takin’ the faggot’s side too? Then fuck you both!” He stormed up the stairs. A door slammed.
“I tole you,” said Martha. “He ain’t gona listen ta nobody, ‘specially you.”
“Bobby’s out in the car. Barney’s gotta know he can’t hurt him.”
“He don’t wan’t him in the house neither. I think we best find a foster home or sumthin’ for ‘im. I can’t stand all this fightin’ an’ I don’t wan’ another a my kids in trouble. Why don’ you jus’ keep Bobby with you for a while and see if Barney calms down some.”
I was about to do just that but stopped at the door.
“Martha,” I said as I turned back into the room, “Bobby is your son. He’s just ten years old. You just can’t decide he’s too much trouble. Barney’s nearly sixteen. He’s old enough to know what he’s doing and pay the price when he doesn’t. What Bobby did was the mistake of a ten year old. Even the boys who did things to him were just eleven.
Now, I’m going to try something. Might work, might not, But you have got to deal with Barney whether it does or doesn’t. This is Bobby’s home, not just Barney’s. I may take him for a day or two but Bobby has got to live with his mother. That’s what ten year olds are supposed to do and their mothers are supposed to make sure they can.”
With that, I marched up the stairs and knocked on the first door I came to. There was no answer.
Martha called from below. “That’s my room. Barney’s got the next one.”
“Whoops”, I said to myself and moved down the hall. The knocking still didn’t bring a reply so I spoke. “Barney, I’ve got two hundred dollars in my pocket. Come downstairs, or let me in you room, and talk to me for thirty minutes and it’s yours whether we settle things or not.”
Silence. I waited then reminded, “Two hundred dollars.”
“I heard you.”
“So?”
“And then you leave.”
“If you insist, yes.”
There was some movement of things in the room like he was trying to make the room more presentable, or getting out a hidden gun. The door opened. Standing tall as he could at about five feet three or four inches, he waved me in.
The room was small. His bed took up nearly a third. After closing the door, he said, “Lemme see the money.”
I pulled out my money clip and showed him there was more than two hundred there.
“So talk.”
“We’re both gonna talk, and listen, you to me and me to you.”
“What time is it?”
I checked. “Six fifteen.”
He sat on his bed. I sat at the end near the door.
I began. “Bobby is your brother.”
“Half brother.”
“I stand corrected. Still, you two have the same mother. You’re supposed to love and look after each other…”
“Not when one’s a fag,” interrupted Barney.
“Wrong! Especially if he’s Gay because that means he’s going to need more help and love than the average brother.”
Barney shook his head.
“Bobby didn’t plan to be Gay. It’s not his fault. It’s not anybody’s fault. About one out of every twenty-five males in the world is homosexual, about 4%. That’s the way it is. The odds are that one of your friends at school is Gay but for one reason or another is able to hide it.”
“Not from me, they can’t. I’m a expert on fags cuz a livin’ with mah fag brother.”
“Your brother is only one type of Gay. There are other kinds you’d never know until they told you.
“You’re full of it.”
“How many boys are there in you school? A thousand? More? If there are only a thousand, then there’s about 40 Gay kids among them. I’m sure you can spot some but not most. 4%, Barney. Go to the library and check it out for yourself. There are lots of scientists who think it’s actually a higher percentage but who knows. Four percent is certain.”
Barney leaned against the wall, folded his arms over his chest and tried to look bored but it was clear that he was thinking, probably about which of his school chums was part of the four percent.
“Actually, the numbers aren’t that important in your case. Even if Bobby was one in ten thousand, he’s your brother, by your mother, and that means you have a responsibility to protect him and he has one to be a good brother to you.
“Now, I agree that means he should do his best not to hurt you or embarrass you and that’s one of the things I’m going to be talking over with him. Everything goes two ways.”
“He’s already embarrassed me plenty, too fuckened much.”
“You mean that some of your friends aren’t being friendly because of it?”
“That right!”
“But I’ll bet your real friends are standing by you and saying how tough it must be to have a fag for a little brother, right?”
Barney shrugged.
“But they’re still your friends, right?”
“So what? They don’ wanna come ‘round here no more with some little fag lookin’ at them like he wants ta suck their dicks.”
“Barney, your friends never came around here and Bobby wouldn’t be interested in them if they did. His interest is in others his own age.”
“So, their little brothers.”
I smiled then chuckled a little. He almost did too. “So tell ‘em, if they come around, leave their little brothers at home.”
“Shiiit.”
“So, Barney, you’ve got a problem.”
“No, I don’t.”
“You have a responsibility to protect your little brother and he’s making it very hard to do it, pissing you off with what he got caught doing.”
“An’ the way he talks, an’ the way he walks an’ everthing, shit.”
“Absolutely. That makes it very difficult for you. But, life is full of difficulties. The ones who manage to handle those difficulties, in the right way, are people who manage just about everything better. They are the ones who end up with the best jobs, the best wives, the best families, the most happiness in their lives.
“Any asshole can survive, living in a small house like this, or a room somewhere, making enough to get by, getting drunk with his loser buddies. It takes hard work to have more than that. But, you know what, it’s actually easier to work hard and have things than to be the asshole who just survives, and is always unhappy, complaining about his bad luck, how this person and that are against him, all the bullshit losers use as excuses.”
“That ain’t got nothing to do with me.”
“Sure as hell does. You’ve got what it takes up here,” I pointed to my brain, “to become most anything you want. I know that because Sissy’s very smart and Bobby’s probably some kind of genius and that sort of thing runs in families. You’re a so so student but that’s because you don’t do much work.”
“That’s bullshit. I do my homework and I never failed a grade like Bobby, the genius, did.”
“Bobby failed because he was miserable. There were kids picking on him and stealing what little he had, beating him up. No one protected him, not even his big brother. Once the abuse stopped, he became the best student in the school even though there were still kids making remarks and treating him like shit. Well, you don’t have his problems, never have, and still you just get by, not failing but not much more.”
“So I’m the bad guy and the little faggot is the angel. Is that what yer paying all that money ta tell me?”
“Not at all. I know you’ve had it tough because you were poor and didn’t have what lots of others had, Your little brother was an embarrassment which, to be honest, is a little bit your fault for thinking it means more to your friends than it actually does.”
“What? You think they don’t say things?”
“Not as much as you think and maybe because you get so upset about it. You know damn well that the kids that get picked on the most are usually the ones who are the most fun to pick on, the ones who get the maddest when things are said or done to them.”
Again, he shook his head and put on the bored look. “What time is it,” he asked.
“Six twenty-four. We’ve got plenty of time.”
He sighed loud enough to be heard.
“I’m sure you never thought of it but if you had been defending your brother all those years he’s suffered abuse, and telling your friends “Hey, he’s my brother no matter what!”, first of all, most of them would have admired you for it and secondly, what happened a week ago probably wouldn’t have.”
He shook his head again, slowly.
“Now, there’s a way all of this can be worked out so everybody’s a winner. It’s going to require a little brotherly understanding, from both of you, but I can make that easier, especially for you.
“By the way, do you realize how talented your little brother really is?”
He ignored the question probably because with the likes of Mary Jean coming around and Bobby making albums, he knew his brother was a lot better than average.
“Bobby is probably going to be famous, and maybe soon. If he cuts the album a lot of people in Nashville want him to, and gets up the courage to perform in public, he’ll be the biggest child star there’s ever been in country music. That, my angry young friend, is going to be a big plus for you with everyone who knows you, especially the girls.”
“They’re still gonna know he’s a fag.”
“I doubt that would matter even if they did which most won’t because we’re going to work on that with him, teach him how not to be so obvious, That, of course, will make it easier for you too.
“Now, I’ve been doing a lot for him and not much for you. I’m sure that sucks. That can be changed too but, like I said, life’s a two way street.
“I’m betting one of your problems with the girls has nothing to do with your brother and that’s all those pimples you’ve got on your face and neck.”
“Fuck you!”
“What if there was a way to get rid of them in a few weeks?”
Barney let his eyes turn toward mine.
“I thought that would get your attention. There are clinics that deal with skin problems like yours. I can set you up with one tomorrow.
“But, like they say on the TV ads, there’s more. You push your grades up into the 80’s on your next exams and I’ll pay for driver’s ed. Then, if you end the year with a 90 or higher average, I’ll buy a used car for you to drive. It’ll still be mine, but you’ll have written permission to use it, as long as your grades stay up. If the school requirement sounds too difficult, don’t worry. If you need one, I’ll arrange a tutor, depending on the subject, maybe even me.
“And, here’s the best part. I’ll take you out to eat any time you’re around when I take Bobby and Sissy.”
Barney smirked. “I ain’ goin’ nowhere with Bobby.”
Hearing ‘Bobby’ instead of ‘fag’ lifted my hopes that there was headway being made.
“That doesn’t mean you can’t be his brother when he needs one.”
“What kinda car?”
“One that runs well. Nothing fancy. And not before June and then if you can average ninety in your finals for the year.”
“Shit, that’s easy.”
“I have no doubt.”
He sucked in on his lips.
“Do we have a deal?”
“You gonna start fixin’ my face tomorrow?”
“Just because it’s too late today.”
He stood up and walked to the door and back.
“An’ you all ‘r’ gonna make Bobby talk normal?”
“More normal than now, not exactly like the other kids which isn’t supposed to matter because he’s your brother and you support him for that reason alone.”
He frowned. “I ain’ gonna hug ‘im or nothin’, no way.”
“Not until you want to.”
“That ain’ never gonna happen.”
It was my turn to shrug my shoulders.
“Do we have a deal?”
“He gonna stay here tonight?”
“Probably not but definitely tomorrow, no matter what you say now.”
“An’ if I say no?”
“He’ll be here tomorrow. You’ve have to deal with it inside yourself without my help because I’m not going to permit you to hurt him in any way, and I mean that exactly as I said it.”
“Shit.”
I held my hand out to him. He shook his head, then took it.
With my other hand, I pulled out my money clip and handed him two one hundred dollar bills. “That’s yours but you can spend some of it on food for the family.
“I suppose you don’t want to go out to dinner with the rest of us?”
He didn’t. Even bribery has its limits.
Martha stared anxiously at me as I came down.
“Your turn to handle your mother. Wanna go to dinner with us?”
Her expression defined the word ‘relief’. “I, I already was fixin’ somethin’, but, I s’pose. Barney goin’ with us?”
“Don’t ask for miracles.”
Bobby and Sissy bathed and changed, not in the tub together but I got the impression they were in there together nude as one got out and the other got in.
Barney came downstairs while his younger siblings were getting cleaned up.
“Do I gotta talk ta Bobby?”
“Of course you do, and he’s gotta talk to you, like brothers do.”
“Man, an’ what’re we s’posed ta talk about? I don’t like nothin’ he likes and he don’t like nothin’ I like.”
Even though he was throwing up obstacles, it sounded like Barney was going to try to get along.
“You both like pizza, don’t you?”
“Big deal. Everybody likes pizza. If you go to a pizza place, bring me some.”
“Tell Bobby what kind of pizza you want and he can get it for you.”
“He knows I like pepperoni.”
“Then just remind him when you ask him to bring you some.”
We sat in silence for the few minutes more it took the others to come down all dressed up. Sissy was trying to comb her little brother’s hair as they came.
Bobby looked at Barney apprehensively. Sissy pulled him to a halt at the bottom of the stairs so she could finish with her combing.
Barney glanced twice at Bobby as though meaning to say something but didn’t.
I asked him, “Anything you want Bobby to bring back for you?”
Barney smirked, sighed, shifted his position on the sofa then said, “Bobby, if you go to a pizza, bring me some, you know, pepperoni.”
Bobby took a breath and answered, “Okay,” then looked at me with a let’s get out of here expression.
I slid over toward Barney and whispered, “Good start. You’ll be fine.”
We went to a pizza joint.
Conversation was limited. Martha ate. Sissy talked about the kind of school she wanted to go to: easy, with lots of social activities. Bobby made sure everyone understood that he was staying with me that night. I tried to talk about helping Barney deal with his role as big brother to Bobby but that only brought nods from Martha, smirks from Sissy and absolutely no response from Bobby.
On the ride back to the house, Bobby insisted on riding up front with me then, when we arrived, he didn’t want to go inside.
“You gotta give Barney his pizza so let’s go.”
He came in behind us then walked over to Barney, the medium pepperoni pizza held well out in front of himself. Barney took it and said “Thanks” very softly.
Bobby started to step back but I was there to stop him. “You’re welcome,” I whispered in his ear.
“Yer welcome,” he said with a rasp.
Barney nodded.
It seemed enough for the moment but there needed to be more before I’d feel comfortable leaving the two of them together.
I reminded Barney he needed to come straight home from school in case his appointment with the skin clinic was at that hour.
On the way to the hotel, Bobby wanted to know what had transpired between Barney and me.
“We made a deal that you and I are going discuss at the hotel. But he’s going to be a good big brother and you’re going to have to be a good little brother.”
“What’s that mean I gotta do?”
“We’ll talk about that later.”
“I don’t gotta go doin’ a bunch a things for him all the time?”
“No, Bobby, but you have got to remember that when you get in trouble, it affects him too. But don’t worry, I just want you two to be nice to each other and Barney says he’ll do it.”
“You have to give him money?”
The little guy was sharp. He probably understood, as I had, that cash was the only language his angry brother was going to listen to.
“What I did to arrange the peace, my dear friend, is none of your business. Just know that an understanding was had and you are safe in your house.”
Just so there wouldn’t be any misunderstandings, I took a different suite, one with two bedrooms and registered Bobby as a guest. There were still looks due in part to the obvious poor kid clothing. But, hotels don’t ask embarrassing questions of customers who stay in their most expensive accommodations.
A call to Mary Jean´s hotel found her waiting by her phone.
”Let me talk to him,” she said after I´d given her the news.
All I heard were a series of ‘Yes, maám´s’.
When Bobby handed back the receiver, she told me she’d instructed Bobby to behave, do what I told him, not to fight with his brother and that she loved him.
“I think I counted four ‘Yes ma’am’s’. What was the last one about?”
“That was between us, Simon, but you can try to pry it out of him. And he says he’s gonna do that album with me. I’ll talk to Stanley to see if he can set it up for next Saturday or Sunday. You okay with that?”
Of course, I was.
The suite had a balcony overlooking the city right out to the Mississippi. We sat on a small wicker sofa. Bobby sat with his back against my side. I put my arm around him. He played with my fingers.
“Bobby, you just answer as much as you want but I would like to understand how you decided to have sex with the same boys who had been taking things from you and beating you up. I’m not saying it was wrong, I just, well, I just want to understand what happened, how this thing got started. So what happened.”
Bobby took a deep breath. “You know Benny? He was at the house in the nigger neighborhood where I was.”
I shook my head at the confusing set of attitudes this kid had in him.
“Benny likes ta pull out his dick an’ say, ‘Suck this’ all this an’ it’s alus hard so, one day, I said okay cuz, you know, it was kinda neat lookin’.”
“But wasn’t Benny beating on you?”
“Not then. Ronal’, he’s Benny’s cuzin an’ they live in the same house wif Benny’s ‘n’ Ronald’s grandmother an’ a ant an’ Ronal’ made Benny stop botherin’ me so I said okay an’ Benny an’ me went inta the boys’ room and I did it inside a toilet an’ Benny tole Ronal’ but Ronal’ din’t wanna do it then so I jus’ did it wif Benny but then Ronald said okay an’ I did it ta ‘im too.
“Then, one day, Ronal’ kissed me on the mouf an’ said he loved me so we did that a lot cuz I liked him a lot too even if he was a nigger. But Benny jus’ liked sex so we jus’ did that.”
“And Jerome?” I asked.
“Oh, Jerome’s a friend a Benny’s an’ Benny asted me if it was okay if Jerome stopped botherin’ me could I suck his dick too an’ I said okay. Anyhow Benny said Jerome had one even bigger’n his but not too big an’ it was an’ had little hairs growin’ on top so I done him too an’ he really liked it an’ never did nothin’ ta me no more an’ even wudn’t let nobody else do nothin’ ta me.”
“So,” I began but was cut off.
“My teacher was lettin’ me stay in the boys’ room since last year fer a long time so I tole Benny an’ Ronal’ ‘n’ Jerome they should come when I was in there so we made a time on Tuesday and Thursday when they would come after recess an’ we could do it. That’s when Benny said he wanted ta do it in the back.”
Bobby reached under himself to touch his buns.
“So he did it there an’ it was kinda good so I said it was okay fer Ronal’ an’ Jerome ta do it there too and they did ‘cept Ronal’ din’t do it then but later cuz he wanted mostly fer us to kiss. He said it was makin’ love an’ we loved each’n other so but I said he should do it back there so one day he did an’ he liked it too. Jerome hurt some but it was good too. So that’s why we was doin’t it when that police come over the top and caught us all cuz a that new kid.”
“What new kid? Whatta you mean?”
“Jerome was makin’ noise when we done it, you know like clappin’ when he went in each time an’ the kid says ta Benny ‘What’s that noise?” an’ Benny tells him ta shut up er he’s gonna hit ‘im but the kid says ‘Fuck you’ and he goes out an’ we know it was him who tole cuz he was in the hall when they took us out an’ give Benny the finger. Benny says he was jealous is all. Benny want’d ta kill ‘im’.”
“And did you guys get together in the summer?”
“Yeah, I went to where they live cuz niggers can’t come ta my house cuz a you know an’ they had that place where I was hid when you come where we done it on the blanket ‘cept Jerome cuz he got a job in a store an’ only done it couple times.”
“Jerome’s got to be getting pretty big by now if he had hair and was bigger than Benny a year ago. Doesn’t that hurt?”
“Not so bad an’ it feels good too. An’ sometimes he gives me money.”
“Do you do sex with any other boys or just those three?”
“Just two white kids from my class but not all much cuz they was afraid we was gonna get caught. An’ we did but not them. Anyway, one a them was real tiny and cummed real fast. Steven was better but not good as Benny.”
“You don’t talk to other people about this like you are to me, do you?”
“Unh uh. I never do that. They’d tell. But you know all about sex like us so Ronal’ said it was okay to say stuff ta you. You know what else he said?”
I worried I did. “No. What?”
Bobby turned my hand up in his. “Ronald’s says you like ta do it with kids like us. You kin do it wif me if ya want. Jus’ not in my ass. You’re bigger’n Jerome an’ it would hurt too much.”
Could Bobby feel my temperature rise? “I think Ronald was just guessing. I mostly just like being with you like this.”
Bobby pulled my hand up to his lips and kissed it. I pulled him into my lap and hugged him.
“You know I love you very much?” I’d never said that to him. It felt good doing so.
“I know an’ I love you too.”
We sat there like that for a while. Neither of us spoke. I squeezed him gently a few times and kissed his head.
Bobby broke the silence with, “Why can’t I live with you?”
I had prepared for that and was quite content the conversation had veered away from sex with me. “For one thing, ten year old boys need to be with their mothers. And, you know I travel a lot. Sometimes I’m gone for over a week and I go out a lot at night. It’s part of my work. But, you can stay with me every once in a while like when you come to Nashville to record. You’re still gonna do that album with Mary Jean, aren’t you?”
“Mm hmm. Can I stay at your house on Friday’s an’ Saturdays? An’ Thanksgivin’ ‘n’ Chrismas?”
“It’s not going to be every week, Bobby, because of my work but we’ll see about the holidays.”
He mulled that over for a minute or so then, “An’ what if Barney hits me?”
“I don’t think Barney’s going to hit you any more.”
“But what if he does?”
“Then he’ll be punished. Now look, Bobby, for you and Barney to get along means both of you have to be brothers to each other. You’re gonna have to try to make some changes just like he will.”
“I din’t do nothin’ wrong ta ‘im. Anyway, he’s way bigger’n me so what’m I s’posed to do?”
“Well, for one, no more sex in the boys’ room where you can get caught. If you wanna have sex with Ronald and Benny, you need to do it some place private like that house where I found you, no more at school.”
“We ain’t gonna do nothin’ at school. But where’m I gonna go ta school? I wanna go where Ronal’ goes.”
“We’ve gotta see what’s available. I’ll be working on that tomorrow. Hey, and I’m gonna get you a new guitar and piano. Don’t worry, Barney’s not going to do anything to them.
“You think your mother would like to live in a bigger house?”
“In yers, in Nashville?”
“No, no. A house like yours but bigger with more rooms so you could have a bedroom too, and a practice room so you could practice playing and not be bothering anyone.”
“Where? I gotta live near Ronal’.”
“Tell you what. Let’s have lunch at your mother’s diner and ask her what she thinks about a bigger place.”
I ended up telling Bobby about the skin clinic for Barney and that I’d be helping him in other ways too. He wanted more details but it was getting on bedtime. He didn’t want to sleep in the other bedroom.
I insisted. For a moment, I thought he was going to cry but that passed and he seemed to be drifting off when I left him all tucked in.
I went to bed and thought about all that had to be done the next day. First on the list was the skin clinic. I had to come through with that or the whole deal could fall apart. Then there was the matter of finding schools for everyone. It didn’t seem likely the school system would do more than approve my choices which had to be approved first by parents, well guardians in the case of Ronald and Benny, guardians who probably didn’t yet know more than the matter was over and that schools would be found. I think I was on the music store and new instruments when I fell asleep.
It was well after midnight when I rolled over and was awakened by the realization that I was half on top of something solid which, of course, was Bobby. Unable to resist, I pulled him to me. He was, or seemed to be, as ten year olds are an hour or so after hitting the hay, completely unconscious.
I was tempted to reach down and see what he had between the legs but concern that he wasn’t actually asleep held my hand back. No use confirming Ronald’s accusations.
It was during that near to awakening state at around seven AM dreaming about a boy playing with my early morning hard on when I suddenly realized it wasn’t a dream. It took a moment to remember where I was and with whom. My first sleepy impulse was to hug him and return the favor then my paranoia, call it my better judgement, kicked in. Still, rather than push him off, I kissed his head and said, “We better get up. Lots to do today.” It was a way of escaping the situation without having to acknowledge it had occurred.
Bobby said, “Yers is really big. Can I see it?”
“C’mon, Bobby, we gotta eat and get outta here. There’s…”
“Jus’ fer a minute. I never seen a man’s dick before. Please.”
He didn’t say ‘please’ very much. I whipped back the covers and let him look for a moment then started to get out of bed.
He hung on and pushed me backward.
“Bobby…”
“I just wanna smell it.” He dropped his head to my crotch and did just that. “It smells different‘n Jerome’s. Niggers smell different’n white people. How come?”
I lifted him off me. He held onto my cock until I got his shoulder high and held him there. “Black people have different skin chemicals, I suppose. What do you want for breakfast?”
“They got bigger asses’n ‘n’ dicks than white people. Benny showed me that. He’s got a big ass an’ his dick’s gonna be big soon. Jerome’s gittin’ real big.. White boys don’t got‘em as big. Benny says it makes niggers have more smell to ‘em, cuz they got more skin.”
I was going to stop his speech a couple of times but it was just too much fun to listen to. With the street science lecture over, I got back to breakfast.
He said he’d eat whatever I ordered so I ordered a lot of everything.
The first task was a skin clinic for Barney. Relying on the size of Yellow Pages ads as an indication of success, I called two. The first was booked up for over a month. The second gave the same response but I insisted on coming by to see their operation.
There were a dozen or so patients of all ages in the waiting room. None were pimpled teens but they all figured to be in school. I asked the receptionist about their treatment for acne. She gave me a printed folder with photos and drawings. I sat down and read the whole thing. It seemed professional and well thought out. One fact that jumped out at me and that I should have wondered about before is that acne generally starts later in adolescence that it had with Barney who was still a bit short of sixteen. Considering that Sissy was late coming in – most girls her age had a lot more chest – and Bobby was both small for his age and actually looked a couple of years younger, Barney must have had some genetic factor from his father for him to reach puberty earlier, or there was another factor aggravating his condition.
I agitated the receptionist to let me see the doctor.
“Miss, I’m a music producer from Nashville and I’ve got to get back but I have a teenager I’d like to be seen by your clinic and need to see the doctor to set it up. I’ll pay one hundred percent up front if need be.”
The argument worked because I was in the doctor’s office a few minutes later. I explained Barney’s condition and some of the psychological stress which might have aggravated it. “However, I think we may have taken a lot of pressure off him recently and he seems more relaxed. From what I’ve read in your brochure, you seem the best people to get rid of his acne.”
We talked. He wanted to start him a week and a half later. I convinced him to at least take a look while I was still in town so he’d know what treatment was going to be necessary and I could pay for it right away. That, of course, meant it would be expensive but the investment would come back many times over if this helped create domestic peace in Bobby’s house.
He agreed to see Barney at four.
I convinced the doctor to let me use his phone to call Harold Johnson. He wasn’t in but his secretary said he was waiting for us to bring him the names of the schools we wanted for our kids. So, he wasn’t going to be of any help in finding the right one. I leaned on the doctor to permit another call, this one to Bob Matthews, the boys’ choir director. He figured to know which schools would have the best music programs. He invited us to his home.
He was wearing slippers when he answered the door. His apartment was as disorderly as most bachelor pads with the exception of there being a large grand piano and an upright with a roll player near two sides of his living room.
The walls were covered with the photos of boys’ choirs, some with him as director, and individual boys, some in skimpy swim suits, a few either sitting on his lap or draped over his shoulder. I assumed he didn’t have many guests dropping by and further guessed I was a fellow spirit.
I told him enough of what had happened that he understood the position in which we had the St. Louis education department.
“None of the public schools have much in the way of special music education but, if Bobby is as bright as you say, you might be able to get him into an accelerated program to go along with outside music education.”
I assured him the school system would accept whatever institution I requested.
“God, I wish I was in your shoes. I’d really put it to them. Some of my kids are in really crappy schools. They’re bright and bored having to stay with a curriculum geared for the slower students. So they get in trouble all the time and the schools say they’re problem children when the problem is the crappy schools.”
By the time we were ready to leave, I had two special schools to look at for Bobby, another for his sister and a phone number of a teacher who could guide me regarding schools for the other boys. That man, also a scoutmaster, sounded like a boy lover too.
Another call to Harold Johnson’s office resulted in the same response as before but the possibility that he’d be in around four. A call to Herman Scott arranged a lunch meeting the following day for the three of us. I expected to have Bobby at home by then.
The next stop was our favorite music shop where I bought Bobby another used Martin guitar, this time with six strings, and a new keyboard with a built-in sound system similar to the one Barney had either destroyed or sold. I suspected the latter but had no plans to bring it up.
We spent an hour in a practice room there at the store. Bobby refused to sing in such a public place but promised to the next time we were alone.
His mother didn’t appear to be happy to see us but sat for lunch anyway. Her boss gave me a dirty look a couple of times but didn’t interfere.
I brought up the larger house idea.
“One of the reasons for the conflicts between Barney and Bobby is the lack of space. If you accept, I’ll pay the difference in the rent and find you a house where you want.”
“Well, I’ll have to think about that. It’s a nice offer an’ I appreciate it but I better think on it first.” It didn’t sound very positive.
However, she was ready to accept any school that would take in her two children. I promised to pay transportation if needed.
In case Martha did find a larger home appealing, I visited a couple of real estate agencies we found in the phone book. Both had plenty of interesting prospects but Bobby was adamant that any new home had to be within walking distance of Ronald´s house. As a matter of fact, there were a number of houses for rent in that area but all in completely black neighborhoods, something I knew Martha and certainly Barney would never accept.
While in the second office, it occurred to me that I might look for a place for myself. My hotel bills were much higher than a mortgage would be making the purchase a reasonably good investment. And, I could sell it if need be, probably at a profit, a few years down the road.
Bobby loved the idea. “Can we live there wif you?”
“You can visit me there but you are going to live near Ronald, remember?”
I’m sure he was trying to figure a way to have his cake and eat it too but didn’t mention anything.
I made an appointment to visit a couple of houses the next morning.
It was getting on three so I took Bobby home. He was again apprehensive but since I was taking Barney with me when I left, he went in without a fuss. He did ask to be able to stay with me again that night.
“I’ve got work to do and you need to be with your family.”
I escaped quickly with Barney in tow. The wet hair told me he’d washed his face. We had to wait over half an hour during which he asked what they were going to do a number of times, each with a request for more detail even though I repeatedly told him I hadn’t a clue.
The doctor knew how to talk to adolescents. Barney was attentive and cooperative, taking off his shirt the moment he was asked to do so. I saw the reason for the request. There was acne nearly down to his tits.
I’d expected a brief checkup but they got right to work. I was down to reading a House and Garden magazine when he finally came out.
“Man,” he explained, “they damn near washed my skin off.”
Apparently they’d done a thorough cleaning, applying three different kinds of medication or somesuch. Barney had three prescription sheets filled with more medications, diet limitations and multiple daily washings and treatments. He had an appointment for the following Wednesday. I got the bill. It would have paid for Bobby’s music lessons for nearly a year.
After stopping by two pharmacies because the first didn’t have one of the items on his list, I dropped off Barney with an admonition to be a good big brother and went to the home of Ronald and Benny.
Much of the time I’d been sitting in the doctor’s office, I wondered just how bright those two boys might be. Sometimes kids who are constant discipline problems, like some of Bob Matthews choristers, are merely bored due to work that is too easy for them. I remembered something Bobby’s teacher had said indicating that Benny was no dummy.
The grandmother invited me in. “You the man gonna put my boys back in school?”
“That’s the plan. Are they in? I’d like to get an idea how they’re doing in school, get a look at their notebooks.”
She called out, “Benny, that white man’s heah.” Then said to me, “They’s eatin’. You hungry?”
“No, ma’am. Just ate,” I lied afraid what they were eating to be unappetizing then repenting at the thought of the great food black families prepared back in Nashville.
Ronald came first, a piece of chicken in his hand. Benny, right behind him, was licking his fingers one at a time.
“This man, what’s yo name, suh?”
“Simon.”
“Mr. Simon heah wans ta see yo school books.”
I suggested they finish eating first and sat on the hardest sofa I’d ever encountered to wait. They brought their plates into the living room, plates with what was left of some delicious smelling fried chicken, boiled potatoes and what were probably collard greens. A small girl about seven peered into the room, the remains of a chicken leg between her lips.
“So, when we goin´ back ta school?” asked Benny
Ronald looked at me anxiously. I noticed the great difference between the two cousins. Benny was almost pure black, with a strong jaw and eyes that spoke of energy. Ronald was considerably lighter with a softer look, a more tranquil demeanor.
“That’s what I’m here to find out. I’d like to see your copybooks from school and talk to you about how you were doing. Do you have your report cards from last year?”
Their grandmother went off to “fetch ‘em.”
Another woman, stocky and dark, wearing slippers came in. “You the man from the schools? I hope you get these two in school as soon as possible. They’s drivin’ me crazy aroun’ all day.”
Benny retorted, “We wasn’t hardly here all day, Aunt Sally, only come in fer dinna’ an’ suppah.”
She ignored her nephew. “So when they goin’ back?”
“Next week, I expect.”
The grandmother returned holding out a large manila envelope. “She’s Benny aunt an’ mebbe Ronald’s.”
I stared at her for a moment, hoping for an explanation of the ‘mebbe’. There was none so I pulled out the large quantity of paperwork inside the envelope.
There were lots of report cards along with birth certificates and other official looking documents. Benny sat down beside me and pushed aside papers until he snatched up a stiff blue form.
“Heah’s mines from last yeah.”
“And Ronald’s?”
Ronald nudged in on my left, sought out and found his.
Benny’s, considering all the trouble he’d apparently been in, was fairly good with only science below eighty. His conduct was uniformly bad. Ronald had coasted along in the seventies but had good conduct ratings. Neither missed many days.
“Sixteen plus sixteen?” I asked Benny.
He grinned and smirked at the same time. “Thirty-two. Tha’s easy.”
“Thirty-two plus thirty-two?”
“Sissy-fo’.”
I kept doubling. He kept answering, only slowing to think at four thousand nine-six, but just briefly.
“Where’s Brazil?”
“Souf America. Got’s da Amazon, longest river in da world.”
“Nigeria?”
“Nigeria? I know all da countries a Africa.” He named them north to south. I couldn’t have done that.
I asked him some grammatical definitions. He messed up the definition of a pronoun but knew what they were. Using what was in his science copybook, I asked questions, all of which he answered correctly, with a certain amount of braggadocio. All the while, his eyes looked straight into mine as though challenging me to beat him. When I finished, he stood and bowed to all of us.
“So why only seventies in science on your report card?”
“The teacher din’t like me.”
Ronald laughed. “You din’t do no homework’s why.”
Ronald hadn’t done nearly as well as Benny but certainly wasn’t a poor student.
However, while I could probably put Benny in the same experimental school with Bobby, I didn’t think Ronald would be able to keep up.
Jerome lived a block and a half away but wasn’t home. According to his apologetic mother, he worked in a local store making home deliveries. She showed me his report card. It was bad. I promised to come back in the morning about nine.
In the hotel after checking with messages of mounting urgency back in Nashville, I called the teacher Bob Matthews had suggest would know about area schools. He sounded wary, asking questions regarding who I was. He accepted my suggestion that he call Matthews to confirm my identity.
“We have to be very careful who we discuss school matters with,” he explained.
He called back a few moments later, very apologetic and asked if I’d like to come to his place or if he should visit me.
Curious to see this paranoid character I was now sure was a boy lover, I went to his apartment, a fourth floor walkup in a white working class neighborhood. Ted Anderson was a tall, fat man, bald, probably in his late forties. He effused welcome.
“I apologize for being so difficult on the telephone but these days, a guy can’t be too careful.”
I got the distinct impression he felt he was speaking to a brother of the cloth. Did Bob Matthews tell Ted Anderson that I was, as a matter of fact, a boy lover, perhaps had admitted it to him? Much as I enjoyed the all too infrequent opportunities to let my hair down, this was a little too sudden for me.
He sat me in a comfortable easy chair and poured himself into one corner of the matching sofa.
“Bob says your boy is very talented, and smart.”
The part about Bobby being ´my boy´ went another step toward the openness.that made me uncomfortable. “Bobby is bright. There’s no doubt about that. I was hoping you could recommend a school for him, and another boy a year older, eleven, who seems to be quite bright too.”
He recommended one of the two special schools Matthews had mentioned.
“Do you think the principal would meet to show me around?”
“You don’t want to meet that woman. She’s suspicious of any man working with kids. If you’ve got Johnson’s ear like Bob says, you best just let him put your boy in and stay clear. The teachers are pretty nice though and you’ll be able to talk to them once he’s in. Do you have pictures of the boys?”
“Sorry, never took one but there’ll be publicity shots once the album he’s working on comes out, probably around Thanksgiving. What about kids with normal intelligence? Are there classes for them at the same school?”
“Sure, they have slow students. It’s experimental so they work with all levels. Your boy´s going to be in a record album?”
Matthews hadn’t told him. I screwed up. “Just one song.” Guilt set in. This man was very paranoid. He was only speaking to me because I was recommended by Matthews. I relaxed. “Yeah, a country CD with Mary Jean Kestler.”
“I’ve heard of her. What the album called?”
I told him I had no idea but would make sure he got one when it came out.
The conversation went on for about an hour. I managed to get away without discussing sex or boy bodies but did tell Anderson about Bobby’s difficulty with shyness and how he’d progressed and finally sung at a club and in the recording studio. When he asked about Bobby’s and the others’ problems at school, I sensed Matthews hadn’t told him sex was involved so just put it down to thuggish behavior on the part of one pair that, due to friendships, fell on the others as well. The principal had made a big mistake in how he’d handled it and that was why Harold Johnson had agreed to help get all the kids into other schools.
I left angry with myself for not being more open and enjoying a bit of free discussion on my favorite subject.
Friday morning at seven, I met the real estate agent to see a couple of the houses she had shown photos of the day before. The first was a dream, a quiet area of upper middle class homes, two stories with four bedrooms, two and a half acres of grass and trees, a garage with an electric door all only twenty minutes by expressway from Bobby’s neighborhood.
I went to the second one to give me a better negotiating position on the first.
“I like the first one better but you’re gonna have to do a lot better on price. I’ll tell you what.” I made a cash offer. “If the owner accepts it, I’ll have a cashier’s check or make a bank transfer the moment the papers are in hand and they’re ready to sign.”
I doubted she got many such offers. She said she’d get back to me before noon.
Next was a talk with the infamous Jerome. His mother had kept him home from work so we could meet. Jerome lived up to my expectations, even in the face. The poor kid was not exactly ugly but you’ll never find his face on a Saturday morning TV ad for Commando Sam’s Rocket Man. His expression was one of those ‘you lookin’ at me, man’ types.
“You the man gonna get us back inta school, ain´tcha?”
“That’s me but just for kids who wanna learn. You one of them?”
“Yeah,” he answered with a changing voice and a smile that somehow didn’t dispel the previous bad guy impression. He told me, as though I was expected to comply, where he wanted to go, a school half a mile from where we stood in the opposite direction from his original institution.
“His mother complained, “They’s alus putting erething on Jerome like he’s the onliest kid in that school does things he ain’t s´posed to.”
“An I din´t do none a that shit they said I did to that white boy. He tole me ta come inside the toilet an’ said he wanted to suck my cock an’ I said he was crazy, I din’t do no shit like that an’ then this pohlice comes jumpin’ over the wall sayin’ I was doin’ shit an’ he knows I wasn’ doin’ nothin’, jus’ standin’ theah.”
“Ya see!” added his mother.
I tried the math questions with him but he claimed to be tired therefore unable to answer much.
At the hotel, I called some frustrated musicians and producers I should have seen that week and promised to be in Nashville Monday to make everything right. Since I usually did take care of things on time, they accepted my apologies but hoped I’d be there for them. The most urgent was work on the cover of the boychoir Irish group album cover and insert. After speaking with the choir administrator, visions flowed of his two beautiful boys making out on my hotel bed then the little one sucking me dry. Something similar had nearly taken place thirty-six hours before.
Lunch with Herman Scott and Harold Johnson was mostly a happy talk affair. Johnson wrote down the names of the four I wanted to put into the experimental school and Jerome for the place he wanted. I promised to stay in touch with the experimental school and handle any problems immediately.
Johnson received a promise that he’d be invited to Bobby’s first musical appearance in the St. Louis area. On the way to the parking lot, Herman Scott handed me an envelope with his bill. I didn’t bother to look.
“You’ve done a great job, counselor. You’ll have payment before the end of next week.” I asked him to take care of one more matter.
The real estate agent had left a message at my hotel to call her. The owners had a counter offer, she said when I called. I claimed that the amount I’d offered was all I had available at the time and didn’t want to get involved in payments. She sounded disappointed as she should have. A lower price meant a lower commission.
The owner, a young couple who had inherited the place, met me at the realtor’s office at five thirty. We signed the papers. I wrote a check. Keys were to be handed over when the check cleared.
I didn’t tell Bobby about the house when I went by afterwards. The plan was to say goodbye and take a seven thirty flight back to Nashville getting there in time to join Stanley and the others at our club for a night of bluegrass.
Bobby wanted to spend the night again.
“Barney been bothering you?” I asked with a smile, sure his big brother with an already improved face wasn’t about to do anything to interfere with the reception of my ridiculously generous bribe.
“No, I jus’ wanna be wif you once more ‘fore you go is all.”
I liked the idea too but was afraid of what might happen under the sheets. “Bobby, there are people back in Nashville who are very angry at me for not taking care of business there. You will be starting classes Tuesday in your new school, you and Sissy and Ronald and Benny all together.” He hugged me hard as his skinny little arms would allow. “Easy, son. Sissy, you talk to your mother about a bigger house. I told her I’ll pay the difference in the rent. We can take it out of Bobby’s earnings if she wants. There are some places available in this part of town so none of you will be moving away from your friends, just have more space to live in. And Bobby will have his own practice room so he won’t be bothering anybody.”
I promised to get back the following Friday and, with his mother’s permission and if a studio could be arranged, take Bobby back to Nashville that night for a recoding session Saturday. A man from Herman Scott’s office would stop by the day before they were to start in their new school to tell them about it and make sure they had what they needed. A taxi would take all four of them to and from school each day. Bobby was to get back to his piano lessons.
It was painful walking away from Bobby. I wanted to be with him possibly more than he with me but I was frightened by the distinct possibility I’d succumb to the temptation of his sweet body if not outright entreaties.
We did record Bobby with Mary Jean that next Friday. Even though he said he didn’t want to make public appearances, the club being the one regular exception, Mary Jean, Stanley and I gently urged him to consider making an album. After writing a song obviously about his love for Ronald – ‘long brown legs’, ‘thick curly brown hair’ and other lyrics some of which I convinced him had to be changed -, he accepted on the condition, his usual one, that there’d be no public appearances. Selling that to a distributor would be impossible but we didn’t really care. Bobby was so good, there were a lot of people who were willing to fork over a large amount to have his voice in their collection. Among them just about every musician who’d worked with him or heard him at the club. I was perfectly willing to fund the entire effort for the same reason. Bobby’s voice would eventually change. We needed him on tape.
We settled on twelve songs, three of them his compositions. The others were old country classics like ‘Making Believe’ and ‘Sweet Dreams’ both of which would feature Mary Jean’s harmony and some bluegrass numbers with a band made up of some of Nashville’s best musicians and back up vocalists, all stars in their own right. We did the whole thing over Friday and Saturday of Thanksgiving weekend so Bobby wouldn’t miss any school. That meant some of those involved gave up lucrative dates just to be part of that project.
Listening in the control room gave me dreams of taking such a show on the road. The list of backup artists would fill most venues of bluegrass music. I was sure that if Bobby’s CD were to get significant radio play, he could fill the biggest houses any of us had ever worked.
What did happen, though, after considerable persuasion, was an invitation only concert at an area theater which would feature all the music and musicians on his CD. We tried to keep it quiet but there are no secrets in Nashville’s music circles. Demands for tickets outstripped the theater’s capacity. Worse, Bobby heard about the hoofuraw and wanted to back out. He’d imagined a bunch of familiar faces, all professionals who wouldn’t fawn over a performer or ask for autographs. Already, we had to be careful that no one knew in advance when Bobby was going to be at the club. I always took him there in a taxi and entered from the back. He never sang more than one set. They really loved him, and so did I.
We tried to spread a rumor that the whole affair had been cancelled. Not many believed it. In the end, what we did was reschedule the thing two days hence and make phone calls. Mary Jean and another female country and bluegrass singer went to St. Louis and wooed Bobby. We had to take him out of school for the Wednesday night affair.
The place was packed with dozens outside trying to buy their way in. Now, don’t get me wrong, Bobby was popular but there was one great bunch of performers on the list of co-stars. Still, Stanley insisted that it was the rumors about this incredible kid that sparked most of the furor.
Then Bobby saw the standing room crowd. Every ounce of shyness that boy had rushed into his head. He retreated to his dressing room, refusing to come out. Eight thirty came and went. The crowd was getting boisterous. The MC, a popular local disk jockey started the show with Mary Jean and another starlet doing a duet while Stanley and I tried to calm Bobby. He was trembling he was so frightened. Tears were in his eyes.
Another act went on, Mary Jean rushed back and kicked us out. It was ten minutes and a comedy act before they came out. Bobby was blindfolded with Mary Jean’s famous scarf. She led him toward the stage with Stanley and me close behind. Poor Stanley had hired two engineers and installed rented state of the art recording equipment. He was terrified of losing not just his investment but what might have been his only chance to record a live performance of Bobby Stottlemeyer as a boy.
At the side of the stage, Mary Jean spoke to the stage manager. When the comedy act skipped off, the curtain was closed. The MC walked out and hushed the crowd while Mary Jean directed a group of us, including me on a guitar borrowed that moment from a great musician, to get on stage and set up fast. We were to sing ‘Sweet Dreams of You’, “just like that night at the club”.
Mary Jean pulled the center stage mike down to Bobby’s level and knelt beside him, her arm around his waist, the two of them face to face, Bobby still blindfolded. Mary Jean asked me for an F chord. I played it. She nodded whispered into Bobby’s ear. He began to sing as she uncovered his eyes and the curtain slowly opened. Our fiddler and I came in quietly in the background on the second line. I felt a lump in my throat and tears welling in my eyes. Bobby stared straight into Mary Jean’s eyes. There was absolute silence in the theater.
When Mary Jean came in on the chorus, I saw the tears in her eyes too. Neither of us had ever heard Bobby sing so sweetly, so forlornly. He seemed to float into and out of each note. Each word was so clear, so perfectly in tune, so sad, any operatic coloratura would have had to be jealous.
They sang the whole song twice. I could have gone on until midnight. It was so perfect, so beautiful. When it was over, there was silence for a moment then someone started clapping and the place went wild. Mary Jean hugged Bobby so hard I thought the two of them would fall over. I also worried that Bobby might do what he did that first performance at the club, scoot off the stage and refuse to come back.
But, Mary held up her hand for calm and started Bobby out on another old bluegrass number, ‘Is This My Destiny’, again harmonizing with him. They did it just once but Bobby seemed to relax. We’d placed faces he knew well including performers from the show in the first three rows. They were the first to stand and call out to him to keep on going.
We did the whole album plus a few of our favorites. When a very popular older fiddler came on to do ‘Uncle Penn’, Bobby really let loose, finally enjoying himself though near the end of the evening.
After an incredible performance of ‘White Dove’ with some bluegrass performers old enough to have known the man who wrote it, Bobby and Mary Jean did ‘Making Believe’.
I’ve always loved that song but no one has ever done it like Bobby Stottlemeyer and Mary Jean Kestler. We were back to the band which backed ‘Sweet Dreams’. I was the first musician to come in after the first word right up to the first chorus. I felt as nervous as a second grader playing in his first school talent show. Bobby was in top form. For what seemed like hours, the only other sound came out of my borrowed but great old Martin guitar. I shut my eyes and felt my notes rather than played them, not unlike what the boy I loved did when he sang. Stanley later told me he’d never heard me play so well.
At the end, Bobby held the last note for what must have been fifteen seconds then let it drift upward and upward and upward. The fiddle player, a man who was probably the best at what he did, drifted up with him a third away, creating an effect someone described afterward ‘like a beautiful bird flying off over a mountain’. The drifting ended with a briefly sustained high G.
As Bobby walked off with the crowd on its feet, he winked at Stanley. Bobby Stottlemeyer had been poking fun at Stanley’s earlier claim that his equipment could record sounds only a gifted dog could hear.
Back at Mary Jean’s house for an after show party, Jim, her husband, saluted the beginning of one of the greatest careers ever to hit Nashville. We were all sure the shyness issue was a thing of the past. Bobby had had fun on the stage that night and engaged with his audience. He was a performer. Actually, Bobby was asleep beside me on a sofa.
But the shyness issue wasn’t over and done with at all. Much to several promoters´ chagrin, Bobby refused to do performances in front of the general public until the following summer when he worked a number of bluegrass festivals with Mary Jean and a couple of other friends. He still does the club at least once a month though there’s no longer any big deal about it. Before his voice changed at fourteen, he made seven CD’s which are collector’s items since so few copies of each were made. A few means about twenty-five to fifty thousand. Word did get out that he existed and he got a modicum of radio play. I think boy lovers bought up several thousand. We got calls from Europe and Latin America for copies that sold direct from us at twice the price for a normal CD. Sales at the festivals he played also ran in the hundreds each.
During his second summer of festivals, a lot, hundreds of single men showed up, all buying albums. One tried to book him into Carnegie Hall but Bobby politely refused. He did accept an album with an East Coast boys’ choir doing primarily folk ballads. I recall he performed with them half a dozen times or so, for free.
He was more forthcoming about shows at thirteen. Money was a major motivator. Ronald had convinced him he could make enough in one year to never perform again. He began doing over a dozen shows a month but, even with a tutor, he felt it affected his school work so cut back to four maximum. The main reason he claimed school difficulties, it turned out, wasn’t for academic difficulties. His fellow students were discovering his fame and becoming like fans, asking for photos with him and autographs. That also was the year his albums were doing 50,000 each or more. He did rake in enough to be in a very high tax bracket though we spread it out so the bite wasn’t as traumatic as it might have been.
Bobby’s mother, by the way, refused any of the cash saying she could make her own way. She did allow him to buy things for Sissy and Barney. They had a great Christmases.
Still, when his voice began to break, Bobby was relieved. He hated fans as a group and was tired of trying to act straight in front of them. Anyhow, he was earning good money from residuals for the songs he’d been writing, six of which had been recorded by big name singers. The melodies were so alluring, generally sad the way country music aficionados like them. The one genuine love ballad he wrote for Ronald, oozed sensuality.
He has since graduated from one of America’s top arts colleges and is respected nationwide for his incredible musical ear. It constantly amazes me who contacts his agent, not me by the way, about producing their album.
Ronald became his personal assistant and, to a great extent, his business manager after graduating from high school. Thanks in part to computers and the internet cutting back on travel needs, the two of them are able to live together in a very nice mansion outside St. Louis. Bobby’s mother still works in that diner as a waitress.
Benny graduated from college as a civil engineer and, last I heard, had his own successful construction company working state contracts.
Sissy married two years after graduating from high school and is expecting.
Now, I’m sure some of you are wondering if anything sexual ever happened between Bobby and me. Well, it’s complicated.
During those years while Bobby was in school, I generally spent a night or two each week in my house there in St. Louis. Though I initially tried to avoid it, Bobby eventually was there every night I was. It wasn’t that I didn’t want him there. I was just plain afraid.
He had his own bedroom with everything a kid could want inside. We had a music room set up with simple recording gear where I taught him until he was able to teach me. We sang and recorded and had a lot of fun.
The first few nights he slept there, nothing other than a little grab ass occurred. Then, he asked if Ronald could spend the night. Ronald’s grandmother, well she really wasn´t his grandmother but more on that in a minute, had to know what had gone on between them before. However, she seemed happy to let him go.
That first night was terrible for me. Our rooms were side by side. I could hear the giggling and, to a certain extent the bouncing around on the bed. By the time they’d quieted down, there were plans in my perverted mind for a hidden CCTV system so I could at least watch. After the second night of listening to the lust on the other side of the wall, I went back to Nashville and actually bought the equipment. The problem was how to install it so no one would know it was there. Cameras weren’t as small as they are these days and a skilled carpenter or plasterer would be needed to do the finish on whatever hiding place was chosen. I just couldn’t think of a plausible excuse to give a tradesman for putting a camera in what was obviously a kid’s bedroom. In reality, there could have been several but when one is as paranoid about it as I was, nothing seemed believable.
So, for two more torturous weeks, I endured a roaring hard on, using my hand instead of a pair of lovely, loving, smooth thighs for relief.
The fifth week, Bobby and Ronald begged for Benny to be allowed to join them. I agreed all the while planning to install the CCTV system myself, hiding the camera in some new fluffy curtains I’d buy secretly the next week. The following morning, after having had to listen to what obviously was someone getting fucked, I began installing the equipment putting the recorder and monitor in the top of my closet and running the cable up against the molding at the floor.
Instead of arriving before nine the next Tuesday morning, two situations in Nashville held me up until early afternoon making it too late to do anything more to implement my nefarious plan.
Again, Benny came along. We ate out as usual. I checked their studies as usual. Bobby and I spent an hour practicing while Benny and Ronald watched TV. Then we played a game of Parcheesi before going to bed.
I decided to watch TV rather than listen to the thump thump thump.
About fifteen minutes after they disappeared giggling into Bobby’s bedroom, Ronald called out from the barely open doorway for me to come over for a moment.
“C’mon, Ronald, I’m watching TV.” That was a boldfaced lie. What boy lover could possibly watch TV while a few feet away three naked boys were having wild sex?
“Please, jes’ fo’ a minute.”
I’m human. I went.
As soon as I was close to the door, the bare shoulder told me Ronald was probably nude and the others would be too but, at that point, there was no stopping me. I had to see what was going on. Ronald took my arm as I entered and pulled me in, closing the door behind me. Benny was on Bobby’s back humping away, smack smack smack, Bobby was right. Benny had a great ass. The white sheets and pillows behind him made it look huge. His muscles flexed delectably each time he plunged downward.
Bobby, one hand holding onto the back of Benny’s neck, was smiling at me, nearly blinking each time Benny rammed inside him..
Ronald said, “Look, they ain’t nothin’ fer me. Let’s you ‘n’ me do sumthin’. I never done nothin’ wif a white man.”
Benny stopped pumping for a moment. “C’mon ovah heah, Mistuh Simon. They’s plenty a room.”
Bobby waved for me to come. Ronald pulled on my arm. Resistance was futile, impossible, undesirable.
Ronald went right for my belt. Bobby rolled over on his side and pulled me back to him for a short hug then an attack on my shirt buttons. Benny, whose will power I’ve admired ever since, left that tight, hot little hole and came around the bed to take off my shoes. He and Ronald pulled off my pants to reveal six inches of stretched out, hard as the bedpost manhood.
“I tole ya’ll!” asserted Ronald and immediately went down on me, taking in far more than he should have been able to.
Bobby, his face over my belly, crawled over my face and stuck his stiff little two and a half inches in my mouth. Benny got behind him and stuck his pecker back inside Bobby. Their weight crushed my nose. I pushed Bobby’s hips up a little. The force of Benny’s thrusting knocked Bobby dick out of my mouth. I took it back in. It slid out again. Bobby was pulling away from me. I twisted my head to one side to see what was going on. Bobby had his lips on the side of Ronald’s, and my dick, as his lover went slowly up and down.
I let him rest his hip in my chest and watched. Benny had to move around and attack anew sideways from up on his knees. That banged Bobby’s thigh against my face. I reached around and put my right hand on Benny’s powerful buns. I expected them to be somewhat rough but they were fairly smooth. I could feel the muscles inside doing their work, contracting then relaxing as he went in and out of Bobby’s ass.
Bobby’s dick was a pretty little thing, narrow, flaring in the middle. His balls were round little peas that bounced around in their loose sack as he was repeatedly skewered from behind. My musical genius stopped for a moment to look up at me and smile. He kissed my lower tummy then locked lips again with Ronald. My cock was glistening with the saliva those two boy mouths deposited as they traversed from head to near bottom. I’d never had a boy this age get below mid point. Ronald was taking in at least five inches. He must have had a very insensitive epiglottis.
Benny slammed in particularly hard and stopped. His eyes were closed, his lips pressed tightly together. Then, after about eight or ten seconds, he started in again, just as forcefully as before.
I masturbated Bobby gently. He must have been hot because his legs straightened out. He reached back and held my hand then removed it and put his palm up in a sign to wait.
I was feeling great. The boys were fellating me at just the right speed to feel fantastic but not quite fast enough for me to get off.
Something wet hit my chest. It was sweat from Benny’s brow. He was damp down to his chest. His eyes alternately stared straight ahead or closed for a while. He was a picture of intense concentration. I think he’d forgotten or, perhaps, never noticed my hand on his ass. He came again, waited ten seconds, and got right back into it.
Bobby pushed Ronald’s head up and off my cock, kissed him deeply then went down on me though not nearly as far as Ronald, about the top third but with a fervor that was going to take me over the top. I didn’t want to come at that point any more than he had. When he got me close to orgasm, I held his head down with my left hand. He didn’t resist, just waited. Ronald went down on my balls, sucking in one then the other while looking up toward Bobby, communicating something only they could understand.
Benny leaned over. I could smell his sweat. “You wanna suck mines? I kin go wash it off good.”
I did but worried Bobby might get jealous. Benny didn’t wait for my answer. He pulled out and headed for the bathroom. Bobby kept sucking gently on that part of my cock he held in his mouth. Ronald kissed Bobby on the cheek and crawled on top of me, pushed Bobby off to one side, sat on my gut and came down for a French kiss as good as I’d ever had. He sucked my tongue in and rolled his around it, top to bottom to top. His tongue pushed inside my mouth and checked out every one of my teeth.
Ronald sat up and slid his crotch up to my mouth. His cock was longer and thicker than Bobby’s but didn’t have much in the way of balls. He was going to be very big one day. I opened up as he lowered his pelvis onto my face. It was a good sucking cock, felt good between my lips and on my tongue. He fucked my mouth a few times.
Benny came back and waited. Ronald stood up and climbed back down behind Bobby. Apparently, I’d been a lubricator. Bobby lay flat. Ronald followed him, reached down to find his anus and poked inside. Benny got over my face as Ronald had last been. His peter smelled of soap. It was thicker than Ronald’s but not as long. The rolling movement of the muscles in his gut was a joy to watch as he fucked my mouth.
The bed moved to the motion of Ronald screwing his lover. I couldn’t see a thing with this muscular mass of prepubescent boyhood over my face. I had to feel his tummy as he worked. It was smoother than his ass but damp from all the work it had been doing.
I heard Ronald say something. Bobby answered, “me too” softly
I felt for his hand. He gripped mine when I found it and started moving his mouth up and down again in time to the movement of the bed. I think Ronald and Benny were moving in tandem.
Benny’s cock thickened. He fell over me. I felt the rolling throbs of his orgasm. Ten seconds later, he was back up and pumping again. His cock was delicious. He could have gone on all night for all I cared.
However, Bobby was moving me toward climax. I squeezed his hand. I felt Bobby and Ronald move. Bobby’s mouth came off my cock and Ronald’s went on in its place. I knew because he was down near my pubic hairs. He went up and down a bit faster than before. In less than half a minute, I came. Ronald halted his ministrations and kept his mouth halfway down. He took every drop of my sperm into his mouth.
Benny began to bloat again. He rammed in hard enough to hurt my lips. Another orgasm shot through his cock. That time, he just sat back and smiled down at me.
When he got up, I saw Ronald opening his mouth where Bobby could see it and showing off the load of cum he had in there.
Bobby said, “Eewww.”
Ronald closed up and swallowed. Bobby rolled onto his side. Ronald rolled with him and began to fuck again. Bobby pointed at his crotch.
I slid down to take him in. It was a nice feel, special due to who the owner was. I didn’t have to do anything with Ronald pumping away. Bobby came quickly. He pushed himself forward so as not to come out of my mouth. I slipped his cock under my tongue and took in his balls as well, rolling those little orbs all around.
Ronald came shortly though not nearly as emphatically as Benny. He just stopped fucking and gripped both of us to him.
Interestingly enough, Bobby slept with me that night and did so whenever we had sex which was just about always, even back in Nashville when it was only the two of us. Those sessions were, to be sure, considerably more tranquil but not shorter in duration. Bobby wasn’t really into hairy men but was in love with me. Our making out was a rather fervent hugging and caressing. The sex was mutual fellatio with me curling up enough so that we could reach other’s middles. My orgasm’s were between those slick little thighs of his with a tee shirt to catch the sperm. We fell asleep like that, front to front, arms around each other even though it often required a middle of the night cleanup when we rolled around smearing white goo all over his legs and fanny.
Ronald began pubing a couple of months before his twelfth birthday. Within a year he was too big for Bobby so screwed me until Bobby grew big enough to take him again. Poor Benny, much to my delight, didn’t begin to grow between the legs until he was a few months past thirteen. It did allow him access to Bobby’s rear until, at fifteen, he became girl crazy. There were occasional flings with Bobby but mostly he went out with the opposite sex. I think the last time he spiked Bobby was at age sixteen and a half. He claimed celibacy with the girls as an excuse for being incredibly horny. But, his days of multiple orgasms were over. He had one great climax and that was it.
Bobby’s journey into puberty was late and long which was great for his voice but prolonged the time before he could take his lover in the rear. He had no pubic hair until fourteen and couldn’t cum more than a few clear drops until nearly fifteen. That’s when he insisted on sitting on Ronald’s seven plus inches and re-lubricating with KY until it finally slipped inside. I held the lube tube and Bobby’s hand.
It took the better part of ten minutes with Bobby getting up and sitting back down repeatedly. There was a lot of bending over for a kiss. Each time he grimaced, Ronald and I suggested he put it off for a few more months but Bobby was far too much in love with Ronald to wait any longer.
“I want to feel you inside of me,” he told him.
What concerned me and Ronald later admitted him too, was that Bobby’s dick was soft during that entire time, only growing when the fucking began. However, right after Ronald got off, when he finally let me put him in my mouth, he came in seconds.
I remember that night also because, after all that, he slept holding me, leaving Ronald to curl up behind me. It was Christmas week and cold.
When the Gay marriage thing got going, the two of them went off to Massachusetts with a coterie of friends and family including Sissy but not her mother who claimed work as an excuse for not going. Also there was Ronald’s grandmother who was actually his aunt since her younger sister was really Ronald’s mother but dumped him a few months after he was born to run off with, of all things, a white traveling salesman, who many of us, due to Ronald’s light coloring, figure to be his father. Benny and a girlfriend who later became his wife were best man and maid of honor. The band that played was a Gay jazz / rock group from New Orleans for whom Bobby had written special music with interesting lyrics. Stanley, his wife and I were there. I gave away Bobby.