It was just as I had remembered it. A low walled wood framed structure stretched across the clearing, still covered in a tangle of vines. A few remaining cabins dotted the edges of the open space. No one was around – it was apparently deserted. Or was it? The sound of my rental car had alerted someone. I was being watched from a corner of the building.



Clean-cut, shirtless, and a well-muscled body – things were looking up. I hoped the natives were friendly! I slipped out of the car, arms at my side, and stood waiting for his next move.

“Es perdido usted?” he called out across the open space.

“No español, Señor,” I answered in my friendliest tone, and with a nervous smile.

“No problem, gringo, I speak English. I am an educated man.”

“I think I’m lost. Is this ‘Uma Tukuynin’?”

“Gringo, you surprise me,” he grinned, “you speak Quechuan, the language of my ancestors!”

“Only about six words, and you’ve just heard half of them,” I chuckled. “I was here long ago, if this is the same place. It looks the same, but just a little more – overgrown.”

“I’m working on it. Someday I hope to make this a home for me and my future wife.”

“But you do live here?” I pressed further.

“My family owns this property, but we live on the other side of the river.”

I slowly approached him. He seemed friendly enough, but might regard me as a trespasser.

“What are you doing here?” he asked as he slowly walked toward me.

“Reliving my past, a long slow journey,” I said quietly.

“You are from the United States?”

How do I answer that without giving away any secrets? I was a wanted man. I had shot my lover and fled England.

“On a long vacation - from Miami, Florida, originally.”

That seemed safe enough. I dare not mention any connection to England or Jamaica.

“You are welcome to my future home,” he grinned, extending his hand in friendship. “Would you like to see the inside and hear of my plans for the renovation?”

“Yes, gladly.”

I followed him around to the rear of the building. It wasn’t easy keeping my eyes from adoring his beautiful body – half-naked in the noonday sun, glistening with the sweat of his labors.

“Ah, yes, the deck with the beautiful view of the river below,” I exclaimed as we stepped onto the rotted wood planking. “There used to be a pathway down to a clearing by the waters edge.”

“You remember it well,” he said curiously. “Just when were you here last?”

“Long ago, under strange circumstances,” I sighed, “A short stopover on the way to Lima.”

He slid open the glass door of the window wall and motioned me inside. The great room had been stripped of all its furniture, only the pool table remained in the wide space – and the old stone fireplace along the end wall.

“The former occupants left very little. They were in a great hurry. My father bought the land to add to his adjoining farm. We were going to level the structures and plant, but I asked him to save this building. I fell in love with the privacy and the view.”

“Yes, it has endless possibilities,” I agreed. “There were six small bedrooms and a bath at the end of the hallway over there,” I said, pointing toward the opening next to the fireplace.”

“You have a good memory, Señor.”

“Please call me Rick.”

“Okay, Rick, I am Eduardo.”

We continued our tour of the dusty but empty rooms, as images of what it used to be like here sprang into my mind. Ending back out on the wood deck, Eduardo sat on the edge of the step and motioned me down beside him.

“What is your real purpose here, Rick? This part of Ecuador is not on the usual tourist stops.”

I thought carefully before answering. He was smart and not some country bumpkin ready to swallow a story of half-truths.

“I write books,” I said simply. “I had some strange and exciting adventures here. I need time alone to think and relive those memories to jump start my creative processes again.”

“You mean a ‘safe house’ from the world,” he grinned.

“Something like that. Actually, this used to be a ‘safe house’ for some dissident groups.”

“Yes, I know. We don’t speak of them in my family. They are evil people.” He stared across the river valley before turning back to me with, “You are not a terrorist in hiding, are you, Rick?”

“Certainly not!” I sputtered in surprise. “What makes you ask that?”

“I am a cautious man with many responsibilities. I don’t need any trouble.”

“I was hoping you might let me stay here for a few days. I can pay you.”

“There is no electricity, no hot water, no bed to sleep on. What would you do?”

“Camp out, not literally, but unroll a sleeping bag by the fireplace. I’ve packed well with provisions I picked up in Quito. I won’t be any bother. I promise to stay out of your way.”

“I don’t need your money,” he mused, “but perhaps you can do me a favor in return.”

“Yes, of course, anything,” I agreed quickly. “What is the favor?”

“I will send my brother over later – with a hot meal for you. He will explain. You will like him. He’s a lot like you.”

“Like me!” I exclaimed. “In what way?”

“A dreamer, a would-be man of the world. He longs for the big city and the better things in life – not the farming or planting like me.”

He stood up and brushed himself off before adding, “Make yourself at home, Rick. Mi casa, su casa,” he laughed. “And by the way, he’s also gay – like you.”

“What makes you think I’m gay?” I sputtered in indignation again. “Do I have a sign printed on my back or something?”

“You couldn’t keep your eyes off my crotch,” he grinned.

I turned a deep shade of pink as he disappeared around the corner of the building.

Night had fallen, bringing with it the chill of the Andes Mountains. I had scavenged the clearing for firewood and a few good pieces of rotted logs from an old woodpile at the edge of the clearing. My aluminum folding camp cot was set up close to the fireplace with a down filled sleeping bag spread over it. I wasn’t sleeping on the cold floor with all nature’s creepy crawlies for company. Not to mention the possibilities of snakes! I heard footsteps outside on the deck.

“I am Andres. “

The sound of a voice was coming from outside the glass window wall. Eduardo’s brother perhaps? I walked over and slid the glass door to the side.

“Wow!” I responded outloud without thinking. “Eduardo’s brother?”

“I have brought warm food from our house,” he said simply.

“Come in and get warm,” I invited. “Doesn’t anyone in your family ever wear a shirt?”

“You should eat before it gets cold,” he cautioned.

“Will you join me?”

“I ate with the family. It’s expected of me, like everything else they expect of me.”

I quickly noted his dissatisfaction and turned to another subject.

“Can you help me build a small fire? I don’t want to burn down the place, but it is getting a little chilly in here.”

He turned to my pile of sticks and started arranging them on the deep stone hearth. I turned to the warm bundle of food and unwrapped the containers inside. The first one held a chicken stew, very fragrant, with chunks of sweet potatoes. White rice and black beans were in the next two containers. A foil packet contained fried plantains, and the final container held a thick egg custard topped with caramel sauce.

“There’s enough food here for both of us. You sure you won’t join me?”

“My mother is a very good cook, but I had plenty to eat already.”

He turned back to the fireplace and soon had small flames licking up at the dried sticks I had collected in the clearing. The crackling sounds were soon replaced by a quiet hissing as the larger pieces began to burn.

“So, you eat and then we talk,” he stated firmly as he took a seat on the edge of the hearth with his back pressed against the stonework.

“You certainly are all business,” I replied, “and your mother is a great cook. I haven’t eaten this well since I left…”

The unfinished sentence dangled in the silence of the room as I struggled with my thoughts. I had nearly let slip too much information.

He didn’t even look up; he was lost in his own thoughts. I’d have to be very careful in my choice of words from this point on.

Sated with the delicious food and warmed by the cheerful fire, I was calmed and relaxed enough to pursue our conversation.

“And what will we talk about, Andres? What is on your mind?” I asked.

“When you leave here, where will you go next?”

I thought it over carefully, but decided there was no harm in revealing a very general direction for my trip.

“I will drive south from here, perhaps to Peru to visit a friend in Lima.”

“That is good. Then it is decided, I will go with you to Lima,” he vowed.

“Wait a minute, Andres,” I said in alarm. “I travel alone. This is a trip for quiet reflection and I don’t need any extra baggage with me.”

“I will pack very simply. There will be no extra baggage.”

“You misunderstand. I mean, he who travels alone travels best. I don’t want any company on my trip.”

“My brother said that you owe him a favor and I need to get out of here.”

He struggled to his feet and strode toward the glass doorway.

“I will be here tomorrow with your noon meal and we will make our plans.”

He stepped out into the chill of the night, leaving me with my mouth hanging open in shock and surprise.

The sounds of an ax splitting wood awakened me at dawn. . I glanced around the room, but everything appeared the same as last night when I fell asleep. The fire had burned out hours ago and the coolness of the night still prevailed. I shivered back down into the warmth of the bedroll and tried to drift off to sleep again. It wasn’t happening. Curiosity was drawing me back out into the world. Whatever could he be doing at this hour? I assumed it was Eduardo hard at work.

I shrugged into some jeans and a tee – decided on a jacket for good measure, and stepped out into warm sunlight on the rear deck. He was at the edge of the clearing, working on a pile of old fence rails. I stood gazing at the shirtless back, muscles rippling across his arms at each downward swing of the cutting tool. As he wiped the sweat from his brow, he noticed me staring.

“Thought you might like some fresh firewood for tonight,” he called out.

“Thanks. Can I help out?”

“You would just slow me down.”

Now where have I heard that statement before? Of course, my beloved Kim when we… I blanked him out of my mind. I didn’t need to shed any tears in front of this stranger. As I turned back toward the deck, he ambled across the yard toward me.

“Sorry, Rick. I didn’t mean to seem ungrateful, but this doesn’t look like your kind of work.”

“That’s okay. I’d rather watch you swing the ax than me,” I grinned. “Nothing ‘gay’ intended!”

He took his usual place on the edge of the step and motioned me down beside him.

“You and my brother talk about anything last night?”

“He’s very determined that I’m his ticket out of here. And very stubborn,” I added.

“He’s a good kid,” Eduardo said solemnly, “but he doesn’t belong here – in this kind of life.”

He looked carefully into my eyes, as if searching for some look of understanding.

“I think you are a good person, Rick, or I wouldn’t trust you with Andres.”

“But you don’t even know me.”

“I’m a pretty good judge of character. And now that I know you’re not a terrorist,” he smiled, “I wish you would do this one thing for me and for my brother.”

“Let me talk to him again,” I acquiesced, “but I have to lay out a few ground rules with him if we’re to travel together. I have my own problems to solve and I don’t need to take on any of his.”

“Thanks, Rick. Whatever you can do for him will be greatly appreciated by all of his family.”

He stood and stared across to the treeline at the far side of the clearing.

“I’d better get back to work on your firewood. Don’t want you to get into that old stack of logs again. Scorpions nest underneath.”

“Now you tell me!”

I spent the rest of the morning unpacking everything from my rental and bringing it all in to the house. Sorting and inventorying led me to believe there would have to be new provisions to get me through the week and through the rest of the trip to Lima. I had packed light on clothing and heavy on food, but there just wasn’t enough for two. The tap on the glass window interrupted my thoughts. Andres was back.

“I bring you dinner,” he announced as I slid the door open for him.

“But it’s only noon,” I protested. “I eat a light lunch.”

“In my culture we eat our main meal now and then the siesta after. It is better for your digestion.”

“Only if you join me. Then a walk by the river while I tell you of my plans for the journey. No siesta.”

I wasn’t going to let him get the upper hand and the last word like the previous evening.

“As you wish,” he agreed.

The usual black beans and rice, sweet plantains, and churasco, a well-seasoned fried skirt steak, was accompanied by great chunks of homemade bread and a cold sweet tea. This was not a light lunch and there was no room for dessert. We ate in silence and alone out on the deck. Eduardo had finished his stack of wood for my fireplace and departed hours ago.

“Let’s walk down by the river,” I suggested as the weight of all that food settled in.

“Why the river?” he questioned.

“It conjures up memories.”

“’Conjures’, what is the meaning of that word?”

“Brings back to life things that I experienced here on my previous visit.”

“Things you wish to remember because they were happy moments?”

“Not exactly – but things that set in motion the course my life took after I left here.”

I don’t think he had a clue as to what I was talking about. Perhaps it was just as well. Some things are too personal to share with a stranger. That is exactly why I wanted to make this journey alone. I needed to discover myself again in order not to repeat my mistakes of the past.

We crashed down through the underbrush on the overgrown trail leading to the river – Rio Pastaza, a tributary of the great Amazon River.

“There was a clearing upstream, close by the rocks that formed a swimming area,” I noted.

“Yes,” Andres said quietly, “a place my friend Tomás and I used to take the sun.”

“Tomás!” I exclaimed, “the great corrupter of children?”

Andres looked at me sharply before adding, “He was my best friend. He taught me everything.”

“Like, ‘how to please a man’?” I asked sarcastically. “He groomed you to be a male prostitute like my son Miguel?”

“Miguelito is your son?” he gasped.

“I adopted Miguel and took him with me to the States at his real father’s request. Sylvain had political goals that did not leave room for raising a child.”

“Tomás was more than my teacher, he was my lover. He promised to take me with him, but he left me behind.”

“Consider yourself very lucky!”

I turned quickly and headed back up the trail toward the house. I had ‘conjured’ up too many painful memories and let slip too much information to this stranger. My heart was aching at old wounds that suddenly opened up again. And now I knew why Andres was so anxious to get out of here, he was looking for Tomás.

---

CHAPTER TWO

---

The dawn of our departure. I was filled with dread and despair at the responsibility I had taken on – Andres! As I set my meager belongings out on the back deck. I heard the sound of voices coming from the front of the building. Eduardo and Andres soon appeared around the corner.

“He’s in your care now, Rick,” Eduardo began. “Look out for my little brother. If this is the life he wants, I wish the best for him – and you too.”

Andres appeared aloof and quiet as his eyes searched my face. He carried a small canvas bag in one hand.

“That’s all you’re taking with you?” I exclaimed in surprise.

“You said no extra baggage, remember?”

“Hmm, yes I did. I’m surprised you paid attention to anything I said.”

Eduardo gave me a quizzical look, not knowing that Andres and I had agreed to disagree on many matters over the past week of our discussions of the journey ahead.

“And what route will you travel, Rick?” Eduardo inquired.

“Back to Banos, turn southwest, and pick up Route 35 – the Pan American Highway. It will be the safest and the fastest way to the Peruvian border."

He nodded in understanding.

“Well, if you’re ready…” I glanced at Andres. “You can still change your mind.”

“My new life will begin today. We will go now.”

There were hugs to both of us from the now silent and remorseful looking Eduardo.

“I will miss you, little brother,” he said with wetness forming at the corners of his eyes.

“Take care of him, Rick!” he said solemnly as he turned and walked quickly back toward the edge of the clearing.

We drove away from the building that had been my shelter for the past week and made our way down the weed-filled rutted road to the gravel lane at the bottom.

As I began to turn right toward Banos, Andres grabbed my arm and said, “Izquierda.”

“What is wrong?” I asked in exasperation. “Remember I have only limited Spanish.”

“We go to Macas, not Banos. Turn left here,” he commanded.

“This is my car, my journey and you are just the passenger!” I replied with rising anger. “It is my way or the highway.”

“Not the highway 35,” he replied, innocent of my little play on words. “Rick, I have no documents. I can not cross through the border to Peru.”

“How do you expect to leave your country without some visa or passport? I hope you at least have an ID card!”

“Tomás will get everything I need when we reach Lima. He promised.”

“So why do we go to Macas?”

“There is a secret way to cross the border. I will show you as Tomás showed me.”

“I knew this was a bad idea when I woke up this morning. You’re going to get me in deep trouble and I have enough trouble already.”

“Please, Rick, do this for me. I will make love with you.”

“No, absolutely not!”

“You are not gay? You do not find me attractive?”

“That is not the point. You are a very hot looking guy, but I promised your brother to take care of you – and not in the sexual way.”

“Then you have a lover already?”

“Not anymore!”

He leaned against me, his hand on my thigh and kissed me passionately, murmuring, “I know how to please a man, you will see.”

I turned left, and not for the promise of sexual favors. The passion he imparted to me was having an effect, but I knew I had to keep it under control.

We drove on for miles and miles down partially paved roads toward Macas. The route was actually beginning to look familiar as I had passed this way once before with Miguel and Sylvain. As we drove through the populated areas and again hit the peaceful countryside south of Macas, Andres began to scan the forest along the left side of the road.

“There is a place we must find to turn off this road,” he explained. “I will show you.”

It began to sound very similar to my previous journey.

“There, the grassy lane through the trees.” he directed. “Turn left,” he smiled. “I will teach you more of my language later. Perhaps while we make love.”

Temptations, temptations – he was really working me over. I’d have to put a stop to it soon, but I wanted to see just how far he would go to get his own way.

We drove on for about a mile until the rutted lane turned right as we reached a small stream. I stopped the car.

“And now you are going to tell me to drive on through the water and up to that wall of impenetrable green foliage, right?” I asked mischievously.

“How you know this, Rick?” he asked startled.

“I’ve been here before.”

“You are knowing of the dissidents?”

“We had a brief ‘business deal’ and we stayed here for one night.”

He looked more puzzled then ever as he jumped down from the car and reached through the greenery to unlatch the hidden gate. As it swung inward, I pulled the vehicle through and waited for him to close us in – to this secret hideout of the terrorist group know as the … Better not to put it in words.

“Good thing you have four-wheel drive car, Rick.”

“Yes, I came prepared – for just about everything but you.”

“You will not be sorry, Rick. I am very grateful for your help, honestly."

We drove on down a twisted overgrown lane until reaching the small clearing in the woods. The chainlink fence gaped open where the gate used to be, but the small stone hut with the thatched roof still remained in the center of the open space.

Andres eagerly jumped out of the car and dashed over to the open doorway, peering inside.

“There is nothing left,” he exclaimed. “They have taken the sleeping cots, the machete, even the door!”

“Why am I not surprised!” I muttered.

“I will build a small fire and we will eat outside.”

“And where do you expect us to sleep?”

“You have a bedroll. I will sleep with you,” he grinned. “It will be very romantic here on the front porch. You will see.”

He bustled about retrieving small packets of food from his canvas bag while I scavenged the area for small sticks and broken branches for our modest cooking fire. We feasted on the warmed over empanadas and shared the flask of sweet tea.

“Tell me of your previous visit here, Rick.”

“It was a long time ago and I’ll spare you the details, but my friend Sylvain continued on to Lima and his son Miguel returned to Quito with me, and then on to Miami. I raised him as my stepson while his real father continued his political activism in Peru.”

I left out the part about Sylvain transporting the dead thug back to El Presidente in exchange for Miguels’ diplomatic passport to leave the country. Some things are too complicated to explain and need not be shared with strangers unfamiliar with the circumstances of the time.

“What about you?” I asked quickly to divert the conversation. “How did you ever find this place?”

“Tomás brought me here. It was our last chance to be together,” he said with a note of sadness. “His friends had gone ahead to Lima. He was to send for me later.”

He looked off into the darkened trees, his eyes clouded with uncertainty. I maintained a respectful silence. We each had our secrets.

Suddenly he stood up, drawing his shirt over his head and leaned against the corner of the hut.

“We go to bed now, Rick. We must begin early manana.”

He unrolled my sleeping bag and stretched out across the top.

“Take off your clothes,” he ordered, “I will make you very warm.”

“Of course we will have to sleep together. I only have one bedroll, but that is it – no sex!” I admonished. “You love Tomás and I … don’t love anyone right now,” I finished lamely.

I stripped down to tee shirt and briefs before joining him. His body lay very close to mine as we nestled down under the covers. The stress of the driving got the upperhand as I slowly began to drift off to sleep. Andres' arm slid around my chest as he pulled himself closer to me for added warmth. I could feel his hand slowly work its way down, bringing an immediate response from me.

“I think you need my attention, Rick,” he murmured as his head went under the covers following his hand. This time I didn’t protest.

The early morning light found us wrapped in each other’s arms. I carefully slipped out of Andres’ embrace and set about rekindling our little campfire. I felt remorse and shame for allowing Andres to have his own way, but I had enjoyed his company and his attention.

“Rick, you should have awakened me early. We must go soon if my plan is to work.”

“Sorry, Andres, I just woke a few minutes ago. We had a big day and then a big night,” I grinned. “But,” I cautioned, “we can’t let it happen again.”

He looked quizzically at me as he responded, “You did not like my hot body bringing you pleasure?”

“Do you truly love this Tomás?”

“This is not about my lover, this is about you and me having sex. Love is a different matter.”

“Then let’s keep our relationship on a more businesslike level.”

I turned to stir the fire.

We broke camp within the hour and headed out of the compound toward the main road south of Macas.

“The next part of our journey is in your hands, Andres, just keep me out of trouble,” I warned.

“I will show you the way, but we will need the help of a friend. You have money with you, Rick?”

“I knew it would come to this,” I muttered in exasperation. “For a bribe?”

“A little gift of American dollars will make our way into Peru more smooth,” he answered with a smile. “Just leave everything to me.”

We drove on in silence.

“How do you know where to find Tomás when we get to Lima,” I asked suddenly, my mind having skipped ahead to the end of our trip. “I can’t just let you out on the street all alone.”

“I will email him from a cyber cafe. They are everywhere. That is how we keep together after all these long months.”

“Does he know you are coming now?” I pursued.

“I wrote him this week from Puyo café. He not have time to answer. It will be a great surprise when I see him.”

He looked thoughtful for a moment, then turned to me with, “You will stay with your friend?”

“No, he doesn’t know I’m even in South American. I will check into a hotel then give him a call.”

“They will require your passport with proper stamp of entering Peru,” he warned.

His words hit me like a dash of cold water – actually a deluge of icy cold water! I pulled over on the side of the road, my heart pounding with fear and uncertainty.

“Don’t worry, Rick,” Andres said calmly taking my hand in his, “I have a solution.”

As he explained his variation on our original plan, I marveled at how intelligent and insightful he really was. I would never have believed that beneath that beautiful boyish face lurked a mind like – Kim! Now why did I have to bring that up?

The rest of the drive to Zamora was uneventful, other than the sideways glances I gave to Andres’ sleeping form nestled against me. I was growing attached to this young man. Big mistake!

We reached our destination in Zamora at dusk, and found our coconspirator in a small café at the edge of town. Andres introduced me to his friend Macio. Doesn’t anyone wear a shirt in Ecuador? Too much testosterone! I would go on alone from this point back to the Pan Am Highway and travel into Peru alone. Andres friend would drive him across the border through some wooded areas and we would meet up at a small hostel in Sullana, Peru. I would check in and wait, as long as it would take. Of course, my American money was welcomed by Andres friend.

“Now I owe you big time!” Andres grinned as he kissed me goodbye.

A knock on the door of my hotel room awakened me early the next morning. It was Andres.

“My friend and I come to welcome you to our country,” Andres announced. “We hope your stay in Peru will be all that you hoped for,” he winked in complicity.

He slipped through the door and closed it firmly behind him. A quick glance at the rumpled sheets on the bed and he seemed satisfied.

“You rested well and alone?” he inquired with a look of innocence.

“Yes, alone! Why do you care? Are you jealous?”

“I rely on you only for travel. I don’t care what you do,” he answered sharply. “You can have sex with that cute guy at the front desk, I’m sure you know who I mean.”

“I’m not getting it on with anybody, so take it easy,” I replied with equal firmness.

“Except me!” he said, slumping down on the bed.

I could see the tears forming at the corners of his eyes.

“Sorry, Rick, I don’t know what is my problem. I think I am lost in this big world. Hold me please,” he begged.

I consoled him the best way I could, holding him tightly to me and allowing him to tremble and cry until he got it out in the open.

“I am not the tough guy I act,” he confessed. “I have feelings and needs inside that I try to cover up. My family can’t help me on these matters. They know nothing of love between two guys.”

“We will be together for many days ahead,” I said quietly. “I will listen to everything you tell me. I will share a part of my own life with you. Perhaps you can learn from some of my mistakes how to guide your own future.”

“Thank you, Rick,” he breathed, as he kissed my lips. “I know you are a good person and I will try to be an eager student.”

After a quick shower and change of clothes I was ready to continue this odyssey of self-discovery. If I could open up to Andres perhaps I would solve my own problems as well.

We bid Macio a safe journey back to his home – along with a little extra cash donation on my part, and hit the Highway 1, southbound toward Lima.

---

CHAPTER THREE

---

I was very lucky to have such an agreeable traveling companion as Andres, in spite of our rocky beginnings. Someone who knew the language was invaluable, and someone who would listen to my stories was priceless. The miles of highway passed quickly as I shared a part of my life with him.

“You had how many relationships?” he cried out.

“Four, if you only count the committed ones. The affairs for sex and companionship do not matter in the long term.”

“And how old are you?”

“Somewhere ‘between thirty and death’,” I grinned. “Not an exact quote, but more like a paraphrase to fit the occasion.”

“I don’t even have one,” he mumbled.

“Your life is just beginning, so don’t be like me and over anxious to get into a relationship just for the convenience of it.”

He processed this thought for a moment, before asking, “How do you know when it is the right time and the right guy?”

Now it was my turn to look inward for an answer.

“When you fall so deeply in love with a person that your every waking thought is of him; and you can’t bear to be separated from him even for a moment – well, that’s when I thought I was ready to make a commitment. That’s only my experience and my opinion. Everyone has their own definition of true love.”

“And how do you know if that guy is the right guy?” he questioned.

“I guess you can never be absolutely sure. Try to get to know him over a period of time. See if he really truly feels the same way about you. Then, you just have to take a chance and go for it.”

The mutual silence ensued as we both processed that concept.

“For better or for worse, doesn’t always have to be forever – at least in the gay world. We can all make mistakes in our judgment of another person’s character. When this happens, we may have to end the relationship rather that try to coexist with someone who is not who they seemed to be.”

“And you truly loved these people you committed to?” he asked thoughtfully.

“I will always love Marco, my very first,” I sighed, “but his self-destructive lifestyle led to his suicide.”

“And Alix, the guy from Peru?”

“Alix was taken from me when one of his grandfather’s thugs put a bullet through his head,” I said, seething with emotion at the memory.

“Before you ask, Sylvain, was a big mistake. He chose another life in politics that had no room for a gay lover. Not my choice – his!”

All this pouring out of my past life was becoming stressful as I opened up old wounds. Andres sensed my emotions and held his silence for awhile.

“Kim is still your lover?” he ventured.

“Kim slammed the door in my face too many times. I couldn’t get through to him. He changed, and not for the better. So I have ended that story myself – permanently. I shot him and killed him!”

Andres looked at me with a stricken face – shock written all over it.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to go that far with my story. Now you know my reason for being here. I guess I’m a wanted man in England. Even Scotland Yard doesn’t look the other way when murder has been committed.”

The miles ticked by, each of us lost in thought.

Finally, Andres spoke up, “Rick, I’m sure he made you do it. I believe a good person like you would not kill somebody. It must be a mistake.”

“I had an alternative, I could have walked away.”

“We are two runaway gay boys,” Andres said with a slight smile, “but our new life begins now.”

He placed his hand on my arm and kissed me lightly on the cheek.

“Please don’t shoot me before we get to Lima,” he joked. “I promise to be very good to you.”

We had one close call with the law. Either my fast driving or the license plate on the rental car caused me to be pulled over to the side of the highway by a police officer. We were both shaking in our boots. An illegal alien riding with a wanted murderer – we didn’t stand a chance! I had to think fast.

“Go along with everything I say,” I warned, “and hope for the best. Let me do all the talking.”

He asked for license, registration, insurance papers, and passport! I was okay, but I feared for Andres.

“Everything looks in good order, Señor, but who is this young man with you?”

“My son Andy,” I said with a smile. “He lives in Miraflores with his mother.” I rattled off JuanCarlo’s address in Lima before continuing, “He’s only sixteen and doesn’t have his driving license yet. We’ve been on a week-long camping trip in the Oriente region. I promised a special trip just for the two of us when I got back to South America.”

He stared at both of us for an indeterminate amount of time before sighing and ordering us to go ahead.

“Whew!” I let out a low whistle. “That was just too close.”

“Andy?” he asked with a big grin.. “And that address, did you make that up?”

“I think my Archangel Gabriel was with me on that one,” I grinned. “That is my friend in Lima – JuanCarlo. I don’t know how I ever managed to remember his address. It was so long ago.”

“You saved my life, Dad!” Andres chided. “I guess I will have to live with you and mom forever after that one.”

Then he gave me the biggest, most passionate kiss ever, and curled up next to me.

“I guess living with you won’t be so bad after all,” he sighed as he fell into a brief catnap.

__________

Lima! At last! And we were dusty, dirty, tired, and sweaty! Did I leave anything out?

Andres suggested we look for a cyber café first.

“Por qua?” I asked.

“You’re learning, Rick,” he grinned. “To check my email, of course!”

“And a gay friendly hotel, please. I need a shower and a good long rest.”

“Why gay?”

“How will I explain you to the front desk at the Hilton as I surrender my passport?”

“Yes, you are right,” Andres conceded. “Better you look like a tourist who picked up a gay boy at the disco.”

With Andres’ command of the language, we soon had vague directions to a cyber café in the Miraflores District.

“Ah, there it is, Rick, pull over here.”

“Gladly, I’m too tired to drive any further. Go on in while I take a little nap here in the car,” I sighed.

“I will bring you a coffee, you will soon be much awake,” he grinned.

“I suppose they don’t serve Blue Mountain, but at this point, anything will do.”

I drifted off for what seemed like only minutes when Andres was back with coffee in hand.

“They do not know of Blue Mountain, sorry, Rick. This is sweetened coffee with cream – cortelito!”

“Thanks, I need anything. What of your friend?”

“There is no reply on my Hotmail account. I wrote again to tell him of my arrival. We will see.”

“And a place to stay?”

“I did a search for ‘Gay Friendly Hotels’. First one on list in Miraflores is very close to here – Casa San Antonio. Very fine looking place. Can you afford all this expense?”

“Let’s check it out first, I’ll worry about the money later.”

Andres’ very carefully written directions led us to Avenue Tejada, just south of Avenida Miraflores and east of Avenida Reducto. The hotel was a beautifully restored home in a quiet neighborhood of similar luxury structures of a bygone era.

I let out a low whistle before continuing, “Whatever the price, this is the place for us!”

“I do not want to cost you extra money, Rick,” Andres apologized. “We could look at some other place, or stay with your friend until Tomás emails me.”

“I guess I forgot to tell you. I have an old restored guesthouse in Jamaica. This reminds me a lot of my home only this is much grander. We must stay here. Call it research for my next remodeling project.”

He looked doubtful, but offered no protest. I guess we both welcomed the amenities it would offer – hot showers, comfortable beds, and room service in luxury.

The efficient staff member at the desk expedited our checking in and we were shown to our room. No questions were asked about our worn and disheveled appearance.

While Andres showered, I searched the telephone directory in our room for JuanCarlo’s number. Of course it was not listed. These rich young Limaneros all had unlisted numbers. I did find his apartment building, however, and left a message with his concierge.

After a long hot shower of my own, I returned to the bedroom to find my beautiful friend sound asleep. A little siesta wouldn’t hurt me either, I decided, as I lay down quietly beside him and soon drifted of to a much-needed rest.

The insistent ringing of the telephone woke me. It was already dusk outside and I struggled to find the phone in the darkened room.

“Rick, is that really you?” JuanCarlo gushed. “Are you here in my beautiful city?”

I mumbled something in reply.

“You must come over for drinks as soon as possible,” he invited. “I have missed you and Kim so much and our great adventures on your last visit.”

Oops, I should have seen that coming. What could I tell him? Things have a way of working themselves out, so I gratefully accepted and promised to be there around eight.

I gently awakened the slumbering beauty beside me.

“Andres, my friend JuanCarlo has called. He wants us to come visit for awhile.”

“Rick, I’m sorry I fell asleep, I was waiting for you to finish your shower – and then…I don’t know what happened.”

“The excesses of travel and too much intrigue,” I grinned. “You don’t have to go if you’d rather sleep awhile longer.”

“And miss the excitement of my first night in Lima?”

He jumped out of bed and raced to the shower for a quick rinse. I followed. The sight of him behind the steamy wet shower glass door was having its effect on me, so I returned to the bedroom to calm down. I mustn’t let anything else happen between us.

Finally, dressed and ready, we set out for Andres’ introduction to gay Lima society. The way to JuanCarlo’s building was coming back to me as I easily guided the rental car toward the west end of Miraflores.

“There it is – straight ahead,” I motioned toward a majestic monolithic building of concrete and glass perched on the edge of the Pacific Ocean.

“Your friend must be very rich,” Andres noted quietly as he glanced at the soaring structure looming ahead. “I think I am not dressed very well to meet such a person.”

“You are fine, trust me. Anyone as cute and sexy as you looks good in anything.”

We were both wearing our jeans, as I wanted him to feel comfortable with me even though I had brought dressier clothing from my hasty departure of England.

The valet took our jeep as we made our way into the marble-floored lobby. A concierge took my name and announced our arrival. The elevator doors were open and waiting.

“I am very nervous, Rick,” Andres admitted. “Perhaps I should wait for you outside.”

“Nothing doing, this is your future. We must grab on tight and go for it,” I grinned.

“I feel safe with you, but a kiss would help.”

I broke my last rule and held this cute blue-jean clad boy in my arms. We were still kissing as the elevator door opened on to the fifteenth floor.

“Rick, I’m so happy to see you,” JuanCarlo greeted as we stepped off into the plushly carpeted hallway. “But who is this stunning young prince with you? Surely this is not Kim,” he smiled.

“My traveling companion, Andres,” I answered hurriedly, flushed with embarrassment at what he must have just witnessed.

“Any friend of Rick’s is welcome to my home. I am JuanCarlo, and you are beautiful!”

Now it was Andres who glowed with a warm shade of rosy pink.

“The night awaits, mi amigos,” he said leading us into the apartment. “I have your favorite Bombay Sapphire, Rick. I shall fix drinks while you show the beautiful view to your…new husband?”

He disappeared into the kitchen before I could think of a sharp comeback. We stepped out to the terrace overlooking the darkened waters of the Pacific. My uneasiness about heights kept me close to the glass doorway.

“Go ahead, enjoy the view,” I encouraged.

“I will stay close to you, Rick. I am a stranger here.”

“Not for long,” I said with anticipation of what was to come.

JuanCarlo already had his sights set on Andres. He was digging into me looking for our connection before he made an open play for the kid.

We sat in the living room, sharing our martinis and exchanging news. I had not seen JuanCarlo since the caper at Eagles Nest, the night Sylvain had plunged to his death.

“And just where is your Kim?” he asked pointedly as the strong drinks loosened his curiosity.

“Let’s say that we had our final disagreement in London. I closed that part of my life. I am here to begin anew.”

“And what a beginning!” he snickered as he gave Andres an additional once-over.

“Not what you think, JuanCarlo. He is here to meet up with his lover Tomás. I was just doing his brother a favor by bringing him along with me.”

“Well then we shall show him our new club tonight. Perhaps his friend will be there.”

He gave Andres an appraising glance as he sat in contemplation.

“I think his debut into Lima’s grandest club should be enhanced – for the sake of his Tomás, of course.”

I could feel the wheels turning. JuanCarlo was up to something.

“Come, Andres. I have some new clothing that would look smashing on you. Your friend will fall in love with you all over again.”

Andres cast me a worried glance as JuanCarlo took his hand and led him into the adjoining bedroom.

“It’s okay,” I whispered, “go with him. I’ll be right here for you.”

The makeover of Andres was absolutely stunning. My breathing nearly stopped as I beheld the figure before me. Black dress shirt, open to the waist, black leather pants and boots, a gold chain around his neck with a cross pendant, and a chunky gold bracelet.

“Now I feel underdressed,” I breathed.

“Not to worry, my Rick. You and I shall go as we are. We don’t want to distract anyone’s eyes from our ‘star’ of the evening.”

We arrived at Disco Laberynto, in Centro Lima, precisely at eleven in JuanCarlo’s new black BMW. A valet took the car at the curb while JuanCarlo ushered as past the lines waiting to get inside. The doorman gave him a knowing smile and unlatched the velvet rope so we could enter ahead of the crowd.

“Come, darlings, the world awaits us.”

Andres was flushed with excitement as his eyes darted around the cavernous room, his nervousness having been quelled by the taste of his first martini at the apartment.

“I will show this one off on the dance floor while you order our drinks, Rick,” JuanCarlo announced.

“Rick, I don’t know how to dance, “ Andres admitted with a worried expression.

“JuanCarlo will show you,” I assured him. “It will come to you naturally, like all Latinos. I’m the gringo wallflower around here,” I added with a grin.

As they made there way to the floor through the parting crowds, I made my way to the bar. Slowly sipping my drink, I watched as the throngs of hot young guys swirled past me.

The hand on my arm was not a surprise, but the face was.

“Tomás, I believe?”

“Yes, and you are the friend of Sylvain and Miguel. The rich American.”

“American, yes, rich, no!” I emphasized.

“What are you doing here in Lima,” he asked slyly, “bringing my Miguel back for further instruction?”

“Not on your life,” I answered coolly. “I have brought your lover to you.”

“My lover is here with me,” he said in confusion. “Who is this you speak of?”

“Andres, came with me to find you.”

“Andres is here?” he asked nervously.

“Surprise, surprise,” I said gleefully.

“I must leave this place. You have not seen me,” he warned with a menacing look.

“Too late, Tomás, here he comes now!”

The beautiful boy in black leather rushed over to us, a look of ecstasy on his face. Tomás turned a lighter shade of tan as Andres embraced him.

We left the club earlier than expected. The long awaited reunion between two lovers did not go well. JuanCarlo dropped us off at our hotel with his promise to return in the morning for a brunch near Parc Kennedy,

“Your car will be safe in my building,” he assured me. “I will come by for you around ten.”

“But I still have your clothing,” Andres protested.

“They look much better on you than they ever would on me,” JuanCarlo said with a smile. “You keep them as my welcome gift.”

“The jewelry,” Andres said as he began unclasping the bracelet.

“That I will take with me for now, but perhaps I can give them back to you as a present someday,” he smiled wistfully. “Caio!” he called out as he drove off.

It was a somber faced Rick and a deeply distressed Andres that entered their hotel and made for the privacy of their room.

“How could he do this to me?” Andres bemoaned

I remained respectfully silent because the Tomás I had known before was as cold and calculating as the one I had seen tonight. Andres would have to learn this on his own.

We skipped our showers and undressed for sleep, each on his own side of the bed.

“We still have each other,” Andres whispered as he threw his arm over my chest and snuggled against my side.

---

CHAPTER FOUR

---

The morning looked bright and promising as sunlight streamed though our bedroom window. I glanced at the clock and saw that it was nearly time for our date with JuanCarlo.

“Is my handsome young man ready for brunch,” I asked softly, my hand brushing back the hair from his sleeping face.

“Rick?” he mumbled sleepily.

“I’m right here.”

“I can not face your friend. I am so sad for what I did to your night at the disco.”

“Not you – your ‘would be’ lover messed up the evening.”

“How could he let me come to Lima when he has a lover already?”

“Better that you found out now than later. Come, let’s go out and put this behind us for awhile.”

“He wrote to me such beautiful letters. Told me of the little apartment he found for us. And then – nothing. I even sent him money for the rent.”

“Oops, you never mentioned that to me.”

I finally persuaded him to shower and get dressed. We only had moments before JuanCarlo would be arriving.

“You are not wearing your sexy new outfit?” I asked as he slipped into his jeans and shirt.

“I will give those things back to your friend. I can not accept such a generous gift from a stranger.”

JuanCarlo was waiting at the curb in his shiny black BMW when we finally emerged from our room on the second floor. I came with anticipation of an exciting new day and Andres came with the cares of the world on his shoulders and the pain of rejection etched across his face.

“Not to fear, my sweet prince, your carriage awaits!” I said theatrically as I held the front passenger door open for him.

I really shouldn’t say things like that, but I had hopes of lightening his mood.

“I think Café’Café’ would be good for guy watching today,” JuanCarlo offered as we pulled into traffic. “Not that you two need anyone else, but I’m always looking for my prince charming.”

“Perhaps we all need the right man in our lives,” I added quietly. “We’ve both experienced a nasty turn of events.”

The restaurant fare proved light and airy, as did our idle chatter – except for Andres. He truly looked like death warmed over and needed a little diversion. Boy watching was not helping.

‘What’s the story with Kim?” JuanCarlo asked suddenly. “You two have a bad breakup?”

“You might say that. He stole fourteen million dollars from my bank account.”

“Fourteen million?” JuanCarlo gasped, choking on his sip of coffee.

They both gaped at me with incomprehension.

“That was the entire legacy I had received from Alix, as well as all my earnings from book sales and TV miniseries.”

“Dios Mi!”

“I think we all could use a little shopping this afternoon to get our minds on more pleasant things.”

“Shopping?” he asked, still in shock.

“Could you take us to that famous mall over by the ocean?” I suggested as I finished my coffee.

“Larcomar?”

“Don’t worry,” I grinned, “your mind will function again as soon as we get out of here.”

The drive was a short twelve blocks south of the café, and nobody uttered a word until we parked the car.

“What did you do about it?” JuanCarlo asked, turning in his seat to face me.

“I shot him.”

“Dead?”

“I think so. I blacked out and Alain helped me down to the car and drove me to the airport.”

“Alain?”

“My restaurant and club manager.”

He kept staring blankly.

“You have a club?”

“In London.”

“England?”

“Last time I checked.”

“I think we all need a cocktail,” he said weakly.

“First, some new clothes for my friend. Then, I’ll tell you the whole story – or what I know of it.”

We took a quick tour of the stores that might have better than casual wear and settled on the one that actually reminded me of England – ‘Rogers St. John’.

I selected from several offerings of slacks, shirts, blazers, underclothing, socks, and shoes, until I had a couple of ensembles for Andres and me. Of course he protested through the whole ordeal that he didn’t need anything because he was going back home and would never set foot in Lima again – and that I was spending too much money for a guy that had been robbed of his life’s savings.

I took him gently in my arms and kissed him, salespeople looking on without a blink, and said, “Baby, you deserve whatever I can do for you after what Tomás did to you last night.”

The AMEX card took another big hit, and I prayed it wouldn’t get canceled until I got things straightened out back home.

“Now I think we’re ready for that drink,” I said to JuanCarlo.

The martinis were iced, the glasses chilled, and the sun shone warmly down upon us as we lounged on his terrace overlooking the great Pacific. Me against the wall, of course.

“I’ll start from the beginning,” I said.

By the end of an hour I had covered most of the bullet points of my life and Kim’s life since we had last seen JuanCarlo on our previous trip to Lima

“Of course, the book is coming out next month thanks to my publisher friend Bradley in Miami. It will have all the sordid details, unless he edits it too much.”

“A book?”

JuanCarlo was still at a loss for words, so I offered to fix another round of drinks.

“It’s called ‘Fade To Black’,” I said, rejoining them with a pitcher of freshly made Bombay Sapphire martinis. “The final chapter was written and sent in from Rio, before I got to Equador – just so you won’t think it was ‘premeditated murder’.

“Speaking of legal issues – is it okay if I call my attorney in Key West?”

“Of course, Rick.,” JuanCarlo said, still a bit spacey and preoccupied.

Francois, my trusted friend and attorney in Key West, had been handling my affairs since the demise of my bank account in Miami. With a few online maneuvers on his part, he could happily report that my balance, after Kim’s illegal actions had raped it, had risen from the remaining one hundred thousand to a quarter of a million. All thanks to a couple of residual checks from my publisher and the TV cable company running my mini-series. So I was still in the black for now.

“Dinner is on me,” I announced with a newfound confidence, as I rejoined the morose two awaiting me on the terrace. “What little money I had left after the great scam, has more than doubled while I’ve been gone, and apparently, nobody is searching for me with a warrant in their hand.”

“How could that be?” JuanCarlo asked.

“Perhaps they haven’t discovered the body yet!” I joked.

“How can you take this so casually?” he continued.

“The secret is in the martini – I think I’m drunk.”

“Maybe we all need a siesta before supper,” JuanCarlo suggested. “You two take the guest room while I order in.”

“Good idea,” I admitted, “if my prince will help me in the door.”

Andres walked me through the apartment to JuanCarlo’s guestroom and closed the door. Helping me struggle out of my clothes, he tucked me in under the covers and stretched out beside me on the top of the bedding. His arm rested lightly across my chest as he drew himself closer and nestled against me.

“I think I’ve found the right man,” he murmured as he watched me fall asleep.

The great orange disc had descended to the edge of the sea, scattering golden rays across the waves. The final light of the day slipped through the slats of the window blinds revealing the gently sleeping Andres still curled next to me. I wriggled quietly out of his embrace and stood next to the window trying to recall his last words before I passed out.

Something about his perfect man? Was that JuanCarlo, or some cute waiter at the café or me? I’d better go slowly and carefully tonight. Slipping quickly into my jeans, I went in search of our host.

JuanCarlo looked up quickly from his tasks in the kitchen, “Feeling better my darling Rick?”

“I think a little coffee might be in order. Can I do anything to help?”

“No, I’ll get it. Your boyfriend up yet?” he asked as he turned on the stove burner.

“Up to something or someone, but I don’t know what or who,” I said mysteriously.

“It’s obvious that he has fallen for you. You’ve completely driven that Tomás out of his thoughts.”

“That was my intention, but only the second part, not the first part.”

“Love is where you find it, Rick,” he added.

“At least that’s the way I write it in my books,” I grinned. “But this is a guy jilted by his lover and looking for a quick replacement.”

“Take it slow and easy,” he laughed, “not like I do with my tricks.”

“I’ll drink to that – only with coffee, no more alcohol today.”

“Maybe a little wine with dinner,” he tempted, “to go along with the fine Argentine steaks I had sent over?”

“You twisted my arm, I’ll go see if he’s awake.”

Dinner went smoothly, our warm and generous host very talkative now that he had gotten over the speechlessness of earlier today. Andres was quiet but seemed content and calm, interested in listening to our clever conversation and repartee. I, however, had to remain neutral, friendly and ever watchful.

The urge to hold Andres in my arms, kiss him, hug him and, make passionate love to him was so intense I was literally shaking inside with pent-up emotions. How could this be, I hardly knew him – the real him on the inside? I was blinded by the outside package and ignorant of the innermost workings of his mind, heart, and soul.

Oh yes, Rick, I told myself, do as you preached to him on the ride down to Lima. To get to know him would take time. Did I have that time, or must I rush back to Miami, Jamaica, London, and straighten out my sordid life?

“Earth to Rick!” JuanCarlo said, jolting me out of my introspection.

“I’m sorry, I was lost in time and space for a moment,” I smiled.

“We need to show Andres the best of the best tonight, so he won't discount Lima too soon.”

“What did you have in mind?” I asked with a slight frown.

“A whirlwind tour of the top choice clubs, dressed in our finest, with a persona of mystery.”

“Now you’re talking like I write,” I grinned in recognition of his mastery of the nuances of the English language, “but it’s up to Andres.”

I turned to him with concern, then impulsively rose from my chair and stood behind him, my hands on his shoulders as I kissed the top of his head.

“You want to give Lima another chance before going back home?” I asked quietly.

“Whatever you say, Rick. I trust you.”

Maybe a little too much, I thought. He’s asking me to take charge of his destiny. That was never my intention and I needed to distance myself from him as quickly as possible.

“Okay, sweet prince, we’ll let JuanCarlo show us a bit more of his world.”

We headed for the guestroom to get showered and changed, while JuanCarlo made the arrangements for our night on the town.

“You still have this monstrosity!” I exclaimed, as we left the lobby of his building to behold the long black Mercedes Pullman limousine of Alix’s grandfather, the former president of Peru.

“We can’t seem to sell it,” JuanCarlo explained, “too many people only want to look at it not buy it.”

“Who can afford to maintain it, is the problem.”

“It might look good in the driveway of your Sugar Hill plantation in Jamaica,” he said with a smile, “or parked in front of your London club.”

“I’d have to write too fast, too furious to come up with enough money for this classic,” I joked. “I’ll settle for the old Bentley I’ve already got under contract.”

“I told my father I was presenting it to a hot prospect in from Europe,” JuanCarlo explained. “He sent it over with one of his salesmen who will be our chauffeur this evening.”

“You are full of surprises.”

“And devious,” he added with a sly grin.

The driver held the rear door open for us as we slipped into the womb of ultimate German luxury.

“Our first stop is Legendaris on Calle Berlin,” he instructed the driver.

A short drive from his apartment and we soon pulled up to the front the building, a line of orange traffic cones blocking the entrance.

“Don’t worry, Juan,” he assured his driver, “they are there for us.” He turned to me and whispered, “I made a few calls and arranged VIP treatment for my guests, a famous London club owner and his Latin lover.”

“You didn’t!” I gasped.

“Just put on your sunglasses and look elegant and bored. You two will fit the parts brilliantly.”

We stepped out of the vehicle and were swept past the throngs waiting to get inside as the doormen ushered us in. The glittering lights, the intense sounds, and the hot men were like a shot of adrenaline to my ‘Latin Lover”. He began to relax, smile and enjoy all the attention thrown our way.

After our quick tour, we gave our thanks to the club manager and went on to our next stop. Vale Todo, a few blocks over on Pasaje Los Pinos, was the same intense lights, sounds, and very hot young men, with an emphasis on drag queens and shows.

I was getting dizzy from the star treatment we were shown, meeting all these club managers, DJ’s, and more than a few cute bartenders. Andres seemed to go with the flow and played his part very well – kissing and hugging his ‘famous London club owner boyfriend’. JuanCarlo was certainly getting off on his own ego trip as his many friends edged up to him constantly. He took more than a few hastily scribbled telephone numbers and thrust them in his pocket.

The third stop on our star tour, Sagitario on Avenida Wilson, was uneventful, but we were glad we had our car parked out front waiting. Walking the dark streets of Centro Lima at this hour of night, or was it morning already, looked a bit foreboding.

La Cueva, on Av. Aviación, was our last stop, in more ways than one. Tomás was there, lover in tow. At first he didn’t notice who we were, dressed in our new blazers, neckties, and shades. Andres saw him first, jumping back with a start like he’d been scalded by hot water.

“It’s okay, baby,” I whispered, “I see him and he can’t hurt you anymore. You’re with JuanCarlo and me now. We’re very important persons in this club.”

I took the initiative and approached him first.

“How convenient to run into you this evening, Tomás.”

“What are doing here?” he asked startled, as he stared at my face, still hidden behind the dark glasses.

“Checking out the local club scene. And you?”

He glanced over my shoulder at Andres, in all his classic finery, looking every bit the beautiful dream boy that he appeared to be - and I was falling for him, in spite of earlier vow of restraint.

“You owe Andres an apology for what you did to him, and you owe him five hundred dollars you conned from him.”

“I don’t owe him anything,” he spat out. “He got you, what’s he need with money?”

“He also has very powerful friends here in Lima.”

I took him by the arm and forced him toward the front door as I said, “Look at that limo and tell me you don’t recognize it.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he sputtered nervously.

“A common street hustler like you could be made to disappear just like Sylvan did, mysteriously plunging to his death from a high terrace at Eagles Nest.”

“What do you want?” he asked, crestfallen.

“An apology would be nice for starters.”

He followed me silently back to where JuanCarlo and Andres were waiting.

Tomás stood silently in front of the three of us – at a loss for words. Then, after a nudge from me, he poured out something to Andres in Spanish that I couldn’t translate. JuanCarlo gave me a brief nod – he understood and approved of what was said.

Andres answered in English – for my benefit?

“It doesn’t matter anymore. What you promised me is a shattered dream. Then Rick came along and I see everything clearer now.”

Tomás stared at the floor. So did I. We left the club and had JuanCarlo drop us off at our hotel.

“Your car is still safe in my building. Maybe we can go sailing in my boat on Sunday,” he offered.

I glanced at my watch before answering, “It is Sunday!”

“Well then, later today, ciao!” he grinned as he closed the door of the black limo and sped off for his own home.

As we walked up toward the grand façade, I drew Andres aside and said quietly, “We need to talk.”

“I know, Rick. It’s all going so fast, but let me say something first before I lose my courage.”

He guided me over to the empty chairs gathered around a small dining table just left of the entrance.

“I am just a quiet country boy from Ecuador,” he began. “I had great visions given to me of life in the big city. It looked exciting because I could be the person on the outside that I feel is the me on the inside. But it is not the city that I want, it is one person to share those feelings inside of me that I need. I hope and pray that you are that one person.”

I sat stunned by this outpouring from his soul. The young man I had met before, that had seemed so overbearing, self-centered, and bitchy, was opening up his heart to me. And it was touching and beautiful. And I was hopelessly in love.

---

CHAPTER FIVE

---

The water was calm, the sky over the Pacific deep crystal blue, as only the winter months in SA can be. JuanCarlo handled his small sail boat expertly and took us out to a small rock formation thrusting out from the sea, just far enough to get a spectacular view of the coast of Miraflores looming behind us. We had packed a small lunch to enjoy onboard - wine, cheeses, fresh fruits, and chunks of crusty breads.

“So what’s up with you two?” JuanCarlo asked slyly. “Seasick or love sick?”

“The waters are surprisingly tranquil, it’s my heart that’s kicking up all the waves,” I answered with a smile. “Andres has…reawakened feelings I thought I had left behind on this voyage of self analysis.”

“Your therapist recommends another glass of wine,” he giggled. “So what are you two going to do about it?”

I looked to Andres for the answer.

“I shall return home and wait for Rick to come back for me, if he really wants me,” Andres answered simply.

“Why not take the bold step and go back with him?” JuanCarlo prodded, looking at Andres. “I could see the way you two stood together against the world last night at the disco. You were meant for each other.”

We sat in silence, each lost in his own thoughts.

My thoughts turned to England and the unresolved issues I’d left behind - the matter of Kim, and what I’d done to him, and the matter of Alain, who’d been my staunch ally throughout the whole sordid affair, and then had become my lover. If I really loved Andres, could I really put him through all this? No, I would have to face it alone.

“Must be hard to let go of something so beautiful,” he observed quietly, looking straight at me, as if he knew my decision.

“I come with a lot of tattered baggage, I don’t know if it’s fair for me to burden Andres with my problems.

“Don’t I get any say in this?” Andres asked pleadingly. “I want to be with you, Rick.”

“We can make it happen,” JuanCarlo urged me.

“What if I am a wanted man and have to pay with my life?”

“And what if you’re not?” he asked. “The love between you two is obvious, is it worth the risk to lose each other?”

I was being painted into a corner – by both of them.

“I just happen to have a bottle of fine champagne tucked into the bottom of the cooler. I think it’s time to uncork and celebrate.”

“Is this a ‘shotgun wedding”? I asked with a grin.

“What is shotgun wedding, Rick?” Andres asked innocently.

“That’s when two people have to get married because a baby is on the way.”

“But that is not possible with us, Rick. We did not have sex like that.”

JuanCarlo nearly choked on his drink then lay rolling on the deck with laughter.

I turned a brighter shade of pink than usual, and Andres just stared at both of us.

It was decided to adjourn this sea voyage and return to the safety of land while we could still walk a somewhat straight line.

In the seclusion of JuanCarlo’s apartment we could venture another round of drinks without embarrassing ourselves in public or falling into the water.

“I’ll mix and pour if you two would like to shower or change before we go out for dinner,” he offered.

“Out – in public?” I groaned. “I don’t think I could eat after all that alcohol.”

Andres opted for the shower, and I thought of making a few telephone calls to determine my current status with the rest of the world.

“JuanCarlo, mind if I call Miami and London? I promise to keep it short and pay you back.”

“Rick, of course, baby. Whatever you want.”

Bradley was foremost on my mind. He usually had the latest info on me even before even I knew what I was up to. My first call went to Miami.

“Bradley, dearest, are you awake, alone, and sober?”

“Rick!” he scolded, “just where are you?”

“You haven’t been following my credit card trail?”

“I lost you somewhere in Quito, renting a jeep or something,” he huffed.

“Close enough. Anyone been asking about me? Anyone in London, for example?”

“Just your club manager. Alain, I think he said.”

“And?”

“He said to tell you that Kim rushed out of the building so fast he nearly broke the door off the hinges.” Bradley paused before asking, “Just what did you do to him?”

“Rushed?” Now I paused, in confusion. “I thought I shot him.”

“Guess you’re not a very good marksman. Alain said that you were the one that hit the floor. Passed out cold, so he said.”

Giggles followed, from Bradley, not me.

“Bradley, I’m so happy I could kiss you!” I exclaimed.

“I’m not your type, my dear. I’m over thirty and have a real job!”

“Touché!”

I quickly ended the call and thought about calling Alain next, but…I needed more time – and a plan of action.

“I’ll take Andres’ drink into him,” I told JuanCarlo, as I bounced into the kitchen. “I have some news for him that cannot wait.”

With mounting excitement, I knocked on the guestroom door, then carefully opened it.

“May I come in, please?”

“Rick, do you really have to ask that question? We do sleep together as I recall,” he said with a sly smile as he dropped his bath towel on the floor.

Mustering all my self-control, I kept my eyes above his waist and carefully relayed every word of my conversation with Bradley. Well, most of it anyway. I left out the last part about ‘over thirty’ and ‘job’.

“Oh that is good news, Rick. I don’t have to worry about being snuffed out on this trip,” he grinned.

“Snuffed out? Where did that come from?”

“American television – the ‘Sopranos’, I think.”

“You watch the ‘Sopranos’ in Ecuador?” I gaped.

“American TV is where I learned most of my English.”

“But please leave out the bad words,” I grinned back. “May I kiss you now?”

“What kind of a guy do you think I am?” he mugged, gangster style, before pressing his naked body against my fully clothed one.

The rest of the evening was a celebratory one, with champagne and laughter and the bright promise of good things to come – for all of us, or so I hoped.

We turned down JuanCarlo’s offer to stay in the guestroom for the night and opted to take a taxi back to our hotel. We left the jeep safely parked in his garage space. I needed to be alone with Andres tonight to savor the moments with this very special guy who had become so important to me.

I lay across the bed, watching Andres as he stripped off his clothing to join me.

“There’s so much I want to say to you – while I still have the courage,” I began. “And this is not alcohol talking, it’s from my heart.”

He watched me quietly from the other side of the room, as if I was about to impart some bad news.

“I’ve come full circle in my feelings for you. What started out as a platonic friendship has developed into…”

I stopped a moment to consider the impact of my words.

“I can’t help it, Andres. I love you! I want you with me for the LTR.”

“Que?”

“Long term relationship. You and me together as long as you will have me in your life.”

“I hope you really mean that, Rick,” he said quietly. “I couldn’t have my dreams shattered twice.”

He looked like he was about to break out in tears. I should have stopped then and taken him in my arms and…but I had to get it out – the rest of it.

“I always talk about not needing any extra baggage, but I’ve got a whole truck load of it. My life has always been…very full.”

“Rick,” he said placing his hand over my lips, “we’ve got a long time to learn about each other. Let’s just take it one day at a time – together.”

He curled up next to me on the bed before whispering, “and I love you, too, very much. I want the LTR.”

We held on to each other the rest of the night.

When morning found us, wrapped in each other’s arms, I felt the sudden peace that comes from having faced my inner fears, quelled them, and allowed this beautiful young man to enter my life. I hoped he would not be disappointed in my lifestyle, my friends, or me.

“Breakfast in bed?” I whispered, “or shall we venture into the world?”

“Whatever you say, Rick,” he mumbled sleepily, “as long as you never let me go.”

A light brunch at the little table outside the hotel entrance was perfect for two lovers who wished to talk quietly to each other and plan the rest of their future together. The hotel wait staff was discreet and served our meal efficiently and allowed us to gaze into each other’s eyes without intrusion.

“There is something I must do today,” I ventured, “before we go on with our plans.”

Andres looked at me questioningly, but remained silent.

“I need to pay my respects to Alix – at the cemetery.”

“Do you wish to go alone?”

“No, I want to seek Alix’s blessing on our…”

“Our LTR?” he smiled.

“Exactly. I want you with me – now and forever.”

“Yes, we will go together. Alix holds a special place in your heart. We must honor that feeling.”

And so we rode together, in the back of a taxi, to Cementerio Catolica, at the edge of Lima. I’d never be able to find it on my own, even if we had the rental car.

No long black limo with pennants flying from the front fenders, no bodyguards driving armor plated cars, no funeral cortege, and no high powered rifle shots ringing out from a distant marksman to spoil the day. Just us, standing in front of the marble and bronze gated mausoleum of Peru’s former first family. The hot sun shone brightly down upon us. Small birds were chirping in the distant trees. The hum of nearby lawn maintenance crews was muffled by the lesser surrounding structures of the park. Andres and I stood close together gazing at the family name carved into the stone façade of the tomb.

As a light breeze blew gently past us, a giant Monarch butterfly sailed gracefully in to land at the top of the grated bronze gate. It remained only a moment, pausing as if to rest, then spreading great wings of gold edged with black, it fluttered down to the paving stones at our feet. The air grew still as we both watched in fascination. For long moments it remained unmoving as if giving us more than a passing glance. Finally satisfied that we meant no harm, it gently lifted back into the air and glided slowly around us, twice, and drifted off into azure blue skies above.

“I think all is well with Alix,” I whispered quietly, “and we have his blessing.”

“How do you know this, Rick?” Andres whispered back, taking my arm in his.

“He sent us a sign – the great gilded monarch. It is the Inca way.”

As we returned to our hotel, I broached the subject I’d avoided earlier during our breakfast.

“You were expecting to live the fast paced lifestyle of our friend JuanCarlo, here in Lima. I don’t live in Lima, London, or Miami. My home is in the quiet countryside of Jamaica.”

“Does that mean I don’t have to wear a shirt when we’re at home?” he countered, with a deadpan expression.

“You won’t have to wear anything at all!” I added with a grin.

More practical matters came to mind as I watched Andres swim a few laps in the hotel pool that sunny afternoon. He needed a passport and a travel visa from Ecuador. We were in the wrong country.

“I need to take you back home,” I cautioned as he joined me on a lounge chair, after liberally sprinkling me with water from his beautifully smooth, tight, sexy, and lightly muscled swimmers body.

“Sorry, Rick, I didn’t mean to get you all wet. I’ll be very, very good the rest of the day,” he teased.

“It’s not the water, silly, it’s the travel documents.”

“Oh!”

“Make that a double ‘Oh’,” I said with a confident smile. “But I’ve got a plan. We can talk about it over dinner, excuse me, a small intimate ‘supper’. Just the two of us.”

And we agreed that this would be our last night in Lima. A lot of work had to be done to set my plan into motion. It had to be started back at ‘Uma Tukuynin’, Eduardo’s future home at the ‘top of the hill’, back in Ecuador.

Early the next morning we checked out of our beautiful hotel room at the Casa San Antonio and taxied to JuanCarlo’s building to bid him farewell and retrieve my rental car.

“You’re leaving so soon,” JuanCarlo protested, as we settled on his terrace for our morning coffee, “it’s only been a week?”

“And what a week it’s been!” I grinned. “My life has changed dramatically in such a short time.”

“Mine, too,” Andres added quietly, “and for the better.”

“As I said before, you two were made for each other. Excuse me a minute, guys, be right back.”

“You can always back out and stay here in Lima?” I offered.

“Don’t even think it, Rick,” Andres warned me, “I’ve found my man and I’m not letting go. Ever!”

“I love you, baby,” I said with a tear of joy glistening at the corner of my eye.

“Sorry to interrupt this touching moment,” JuanCarlo announced from the terrace door, “but I have a parting gift for Andres.”

He placed a small velvet covered box in Andres’ hand.

“This was given to me a long time ago by a very special person – my best friend in the whole world. He made Rick very happy, but for such a short time before his life was tragically ended. I know he’s watching over us and would approve of Rick’s choice for a new life partner. He would want you to wear this with his blessing.”

As Andres gently opened the small box, the glitter of the chunky gold bracelet reflected off the tears in all of our eyes.

---

CHAPTER SIX

---

Eduardo took his usual seat on the step of the wood deck along the back of the deserted ‘safe house’, his dream project for a future home.

“I didn’t expect to see you two back here so soon,” he said quietly. “Although I’m glad Rick has been a good influence on you, little brother.”

He stared off into the ravine leading down toward the river as he listened to our future plans.

Andres leaned against the deck railing, briefly outlining our experiences in Lima and our whirlwind tour of the city. He had the sensitivity to leave out the personal details of our developing relationship. I kept safely back against the window wall. High places and I do not get along

“You both have my blessing. I couldn’t ask for a better partner for my little brother, and I’m going to miss both of you. But what can I do to help?”

“You could let us stay here for a week,” I began, “until Andres’ paperwork is processed in Quito.”

Andres then took over in Spanish, a private conversation with his brother.

“Ah yes, I see the problem – Mother and Father,” he responded in English for my benefit. “I will help you set up one of the bedrooms. You are very welcome to stay here.”

And thus it was decided. Andres and I would camp out here until his passport and visa were approved. We would be together for the next week – waiting.

I waited until Eduardo had departed for the family farm to bring back bedding and other supplies for our stay before I questioned Andres.

“I assume your family would not approve of you running off to another part of the world with the gay gringo.”

“We have Eduardo on our side,” Andres said with a sly smile, “and someday he will be the head of the family. That is all we need my beautiful ‘gay gringo’.”

“Rick, I’m afraid,” Andres confided as we sat before the fire, finishing our last bites of the supper his mother had sent up to us.

“Of me?”

“The future,” he said quietly. “You’ve been by my side all the time in Lima. What happens in your world? What if you leave me?”

I thought of all my past mistakes with the people I’d loved. He was right to question my stability and my loyalty. Have I really changed enough to give him the complete support he needs? I can try.

“I promise you I will be the very best friend you have, to honor your wishes, support your personal decisions, and to see you get back home safely if you change your mind about our love or any part of our relationship.”

He looked deep into my eyes, the firelight reflecting off his own as he said, “I’ll need a guarantee, Rick. You can seal it with a kiss.”

Actually we sealed it with more than a kiss, as we left the fireside and sought the privacy of our temporary bedroom, behind door number one in the row of six along the adjoining hallway.

South Beach, here we come! LAN Ecuador would take us non-stop Quito to Miami in four hours, and at half the price of American Airlines. At this point, I had to watch the credit card. I didn’t know what I would find waiting at home, expense-wise. Home! It sounded good, and with Andres at my side, I was ready to face my future, whatever it might bring.

Bradley had no idea we had arrived In Miami. I like surprises, don’t you? We taxied from Miami International Airport to West Avenue, on the edge of Biscayne Bay along the sunset side of Miami Beach.

I detected the apprehension in Andres’ face as we rode the elevator to the eleventh floor.

“Are you sure it’s okay for us to be here?” he asked nervously. “Does your amigo know we are coming?”

“Not to worry, Bradley’s my best buddy. He’s going to love meeting you,” I assured him.

The door was opened cautiously, a pair of eyes stared out though the one inch crack.

“I really must insist on better security in this building,” Bradley announced as he opened the door a bit further. “They let a South American exile in without even calling up first.”

“Well I’m glad to see you, too, Bradley.”

“So sorry, my dear, it’s been a really bad day!”

He stared past my shoulder – his first glimpse of Andres.

“You’ve adopted another son – and at your age!”

“Bradley, please, a little decorum. This is my friend Andres.”

“Friend friend or friend friend?” he accented this with an arched eyebrow. “Well, whatever, you’re both welcome in my home. Please come in.”

“He’s not always like this,” I stage whispered to Andres as I guided him by the arm into Bradley’s sumptuous living quarters. “But the older he gets, well, you know, senility and crankiness sets in.”

“I can stop the publication of your last book!” he threatened.

“Guess I’ll have to accept that offer from St. Martins Press,” I tossed back.

“I’ll make the martinis,” he said quietly as he disappeared into the kitchen.

“Good idea, thank you. We’ll just pick out our bedroom for the evening,” I called over my shoulder. “Do you prefer the sunrise in the morning or the shadowed view toward the south South Beach?” I asked gently, guiding Andres into the bedroom wing.

Drinks were waiting on a silver tray as we rejoined Bradley in the living room.

“Shall we drink a toast to…an impending relationship?” Bradley queried as we settled in on the sofa across from him.

“I’m coming to that,” I began, “but let me explain the revelations that I’ve found on my trip in exile.”

“Is there a book in this?” he asked sarcastically.

“Bradley!” I threatened sternly

“Yes, dear one, go ahead, I’ll be quiet.”

“My life has been so meaningless and empty until now,” I began, turning to my beloved Andres, “and then…I finally met my soulmate.”

I went on to explain all, from my arrival in Puyo, the exciting week in Lima, our departure from Quito, but I left out the week we spent in each other’s arms at Eduardo’s safe house. That was the most important revelation – the true meaning of my new relationship with Andres. As I concluded my story, Bradley stared at me intently.

“Just what do you intend to do about your missing money, your club in London, and…Kim?” he asked.

“I have a plan to handle all of that, but first, we’re going to Jamaica. I want Andres to see my life there. Make sure he’s going to be happy in that quiet countryside where nothing much ever happens.”

“Don’t believe a word he says, Andres,” Bradley warned with a wicked grin. “Rick’s life is never dull and as for nothing happening in Jamaica - you’ll see!”

“Wherever you take me, as long as you hold me close, I will be the luckiest guy in the world, Rick,” he said, taking my hand in his and kissing me lightly.

“He does speak English!” Bradley broke in with a broad smile.

“Poquito,” Andres laughed, holding his finger and thumb about an inch apart in demonstration.

“I love this one, Rick. I think you two were made for each other.”

“Where have we heard that before?” I laughed.

Breakfast on South Ocean Drive the next morning was almost a repeat of my previous trip with my adopted son Miguel. We dined on the terrace at the Palace Hotel and I showed Andres the Versace villa, where the infamous killer Andrew Cunanan gunned down our world famous designer on the steps of his South Beach mansion.

Bradley then guided us through a few of the newer and trendier shops on Washington and Collins Avenues. Andres was in need of a few more clothing items and I loved spoiling him, just a little. I was so truly happy and very much in love. I hoped it would never end and that I would never disappoint him.

We ended our day with an early supper on Lincoln Road, South Beach’s premier tourist spot for dining and gazing as a cross section of the worlds population strolled by our sidewalk table at Yuca Restaurant.

“What do you think of South Beach?” Bradley asked Andres as we finished our after dinner coffee.

“I am over…worked?” he struggled with his word choice.

“Overwhelmed,” I said quietly.

“Yes, very much,” he grinned. “I must bring my English up to…your expectations.”

"Close enough,” I smiled as I leaned over and kissed him.

“We can do that here?” he gasped.

“It is South Beach, where tolerance is everything.”

Our buoyant mood continued as we taxied back to Bradley’s apartment loaded down with our purchases.

“Did I notice something amiss in your life, Bradley, or someone missing, actually?”

“Why do you think I was in such a rotten mood when you popped in, my dear. I’ll go into it when we get inside and I’ve had a drink or three!”

He unlocked the door and made straight for the bar, while Andres and I struggled in with our shopping bags.

“Make that three each and we’ll be right out,” I said as I motioned Andres to follow me to the bedroom.

“He’s not usually down like this,” I explained seriously. “Bradley’s always been like a ray of sunshine on a cloudy day – and a strong voice for calm and clear thinking in troubled situations.”

“You care about him very much, Rick, and you are a very sensitive man. That is one of the many reasons I fell in love with you. Perhaps you can help him now.”

I dropped the bags on floor as I drew him into my arms. I was so lucky to have such a sweet and understanding man like Andres in my life.

“Okay, Bradley, one drink first and then start talking,” I ordered as Andres and I took our previous seats on the sofa.

“It’s Kevin.”

“Well that’s a relief, I thought your publishing empire had crumbled or worse.”

“It’s been three days since I’ve heard from him!”

“Three days out of three years? That’s not a bad record, even for you,” I kidded.

“You just don’t understand our relationship,” he said in exasperation. “He always calls. Always!”

“He’s never been out all night before?”

“Well, of course he has. We’re not exactly tied together like you and…”

“…whomever,” I quickly finished for him.

“Sorry, Andres,” he apologized. “Rick is a very loving and loyal person, he’s just made some bad choices in the past. He takes everyone at face value, and sometimes he gets fucked over!”

“Moving right along…” I urged.

“He took this modeling gig, or maybe more of a party boy thing, I don’t really know. But he said it would pay well and he really wanted to do it.”

“I thought you were his agent.”

“I think he was getting bored and I was extremely busy at the magazine,” he sighed. “Guess I wasn’t paying his career enough attention.”

“It wasn’t prostitution?”

“Certainly not!” he sputtered. “He wouldn’t and I would never let him do anything like that.”

“How did he find this job?” I pressed.

“They found him! He was shopping on Lincoln Road, as usual, when he’s not working. Some guy came up to him and gave him a phone number to call. Said they needed some hot looking guys to wear skimpy bathing suits and serve drinks.”

I rolled my eyes upward in exasperation.

“And you didn’t think this seemed - unsavory?”

“I guess I didn’t really pay much attention, I’ve been so wrapped up in my work recently,” he said dejectedly. “It’s all my fault, I should have made the call for him, checked it out.”

“At the very least,” I agreed, “but I’m sure he’ll turn up. These things have a way of working themselves out,” I assured him.

“And what if they don’t?”

“Sounds like a job for the Sugar Hill Gang,” I sighed, with less than my usual enthusiasm.

I was quite anxious to get on to Jamaica, introduce Andres to all my friends and show him my life there, and then head back to London and get my money.

“What is Sugar Hill Gang?” Andres inquired with the utmost innocence.

“Glad you asked, my dear,” Bradley piped up. “When things go wrong and Rick gets into a real tough spot, like he usually does when I’m not around to keep him on the straight and narrow – well, not too straight,” he giggled, “he gathers together his circle of friends and they pool their thoughts and their talents and solve the mystery or whatever mess he’s gotten himself into.”

“I don’t think this is quite on the same level,” I pointed out.

“It’s no different than the missing Matisse in San Juan, the stolen chalice in Rome, the murdered impresario in Key West, or your kidnapped son right out from his bed at Sugar Hill!”

“I mean, only three days? You do really trust him, don’t you?”

“Of course, but no call is so unlike him and totally against our agreement.”

“You do have the number he called, right?”

“No.”

“He does have his cell phone with him?”

“Yes.”

“And you have called it?”

“Turned off.”

“You’re not giving me much to go on here.”

The silence ensued!

“Think, Bradley, did he say anything at all that you can remember?”

“Well, it was aboard a boat, I’m almost sure. Like one of those party boats. The kind that goes out in International Waters to skirt the gambling laws in Florida.”

“I’m at sea here,” I snickered. “No pun intended.”

“This is not a laughing matter, Rick!” he retorted.

“I’m sorry, Bradley, but I need to break through the fog here, get you back to thinking clearly and without so much emotion.”

“Any suggestions – of the positive kind?” he said with a wee hint of sarcasm.

“Go straight to your Rolodex, look under ‘shady and sleazy’, I’m sure you have a lot of numbers in that file, being in the gay magazine business. Find some of your contacts that deal in fresh young faces for modeling.”

“What will I say?”

“Tell him or her that a well-known London club owner and his very sexy young Latino lover,” I turned to Andres with a quick smile, “is here to open a new club and wants to hire some unattached new guys to run the bar in very scanty clothing.”

“And just what club shall I say you are opening, it does have to be believable?”

“A South Beach version of my Club PR! But location will not be revealed until opening night.”

“Hmmm.”

“You’re only the middle man, details are vague, but the money is real.”

I turned to Andres and whispered, “That should keep him busy until morning. May I show you to our room with a view?”

We saw more of each other than we did the view.

“Brunch on the terrace, dear ones, you have an appointment at one o’clock,” Bradley called through the bedroom door.

“Will this nightmare never end,” I muttered sleepily.

“You promised to help your friend,” Andres reminded me. “I’ll help you wake up with a smile on your face,” he teased as he covered my body with his own

“Ready to face the world, champ?” I asked as we headed for the shower.

“As long as I’m at your side. Rick.”

“Okay, Bradley, where’s the meet?” I said as we finished a hearty serving of eggs Benedict and fresh melon.

“A dark little bar on Espanola Way, we could actually walk from here.

“Does it have a back door – in case I need a hasty departure?” I kidded.

“Not to worry, my dear, this guy is more afraid of meeting you than you are of him.”

I looked at him with a big question mark etched on my face.

“I told him you had ‘connections’. The ‘family’ sort in the UK.”

Bradley had decided to hire a car from a livery service to reinforce my image of a ‘connected’ man. He and Andres would hide behind the tinted windows of the black Lincoln Towncar to keep watch on the entrance. I might need to effect a hasty retreat!

I stepped out of the car in white linen slacks, espadrilles, and a black silk shirt opened at the collar revealing a heavy gold chain around my neck. Bradley’s clothing, not mine. I would never be caught dead dressed like that. As I adjusted the dark shades covering my eyes, I made my way to the bar’s entrance.

The dark smoky interior of the joint looked more like some dive in Brooklyn than it did a club in sunny Miami Beach. It was nearly empty. A short dark-skinned little man, his hair slicked back, stood at the end of the bar watching me. Bright purple guayberra and heavy gold chains cascading down across his chest fairly screamed out ‘pimp’ as I approached.

“You the guy what’s lookin’?” he said.

“Depends on what you got,” I responded casually.

“I got all types, name your poison!”

“Blonde, young, hot! The ‘boys of summer’.”

“I can get ‘em. How many ya want?”

“I need to see them first. I don’t pay for anything I can’t use.”

“That might be a problem,” he said looking away nervously.

“I can take my business elsewhere,” I said, turning to walk away.

“Wait! Got an idea!”

“I’m listening.”

He proceeded to fill me in on a couple of locations where he had ‘placed’ a few guys recently.

“You look ‘em over, get back to me. I get a hundred a head – my commission,” he said grinning, the gold teeth nearly matching the rings on his fingers.

He passed a greasy worn business card to me, the telephone number scratched out and replaced with a new number, written by hand.

“Got to change cell phones every once in awhile.”

“I need a shower,” I said, climbing into the back of the car next to Andres. “He exuded filth from every pore!”

“But did you get anything we can use?” Bradley asked impatiently, leaning over from the front seat.

“Yes and no.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” he pressed on.

“Yes, he ‘placed’ a lot of blondes, but no, he didn’t supply any party boats.”

“Blondes!” Bradley exploded. “His hair is ‘sable’, this year’s hot new color.”

“Oops!”

We decided to go ahead with plan ‘B’, as in ‘boat trip’.”

“This trip is supposed to be about us!” I exclaimed as I watched the foaming waters swirl past the prow.

“We’re together, Rick. You and me. That’s what counts, isn’t it?”

“You’re right, this is only a temporary detour.”

I had spotted Kevin right away when we climbed on board the two-level floating palace of pleasure. Even with his ‘sable’ hair, there was no mistaking the well muscled young model who used to work in my guest house in Jamaica before Bradley had spirited him away. His smooth tanned chest angled down toward the gold lame’ shorts covering his other assets, but I digress! We kept our distance so as not to be recognized by him until I had some essence of what was going on here.

I was dressed as before, in my black silk shirt and white linen pants. I had convinced Andres to wear his black leather pants and shirt with the chunky gold bracelet. We both kept our dark oversized shades on to add that extra note of mystery, for we needed to pass for the slick London club owner and his hot young boyfriend for as long as possible. The boat would be going out to sea and there would be no ‘back doors’ for us to effect an early escape if things turned ugly.

“I think we’ll be safer staying out here with our backs to the crowd,” I explained quietly. “Once they announce the gambling tables are open, we can move inside and blend in with the tourists.”

Andres turned to me suddenly, his hands on my arms, as he said, “Rick, we don’t have to pretend. We are those two guys.”

“What do you mean?” I asked in confusion.

“You are the London club owner – and very mysterious,” he grinned. “And I am your young hot Latino lover – and very, very sexy!”

I laughed as I drew in into my arms and kissed him. A sudden tap on my shoulder drew my attention to a little gray-aired lady standing behind us with a pad and pencil in her hand.

“Are you somebody?” she asked

“Yes ma’am,” I grinned my wide Crest-white smile. “I’m Ricky and this is my friend Andres.”

“I thought so, young man. Will you please sign this for me,” she said, thrusting the pad and pencil into my hand. “Please make it out to ‘my number one fan, Gladys, from New York’.”

“Where in New York?” I asked politely.

“Queens.”

“You can say that again!” I replied with a smirk, as I autographed her paper.

As she returned to her husband, I could hear her whisper, “Irving, I told you it was Ricky Martin!”

“Dat’s not Ricky Martin, he don’t have blonde hair!”

“This is Miami Beach, dear, they always change their hair color.”

As Gladys and Irving turned to go back inside the casino, I laughed so hard I nearly fell overboard.

“I guess our cover’s blown now,” I gasped, coming up for air. “And I feel so good sharing this Kodak moment with the one I love!”

“Rick, we do have something very important in common,” he began, with a serious look on his face.

“And what is that my beautiful lover?”

“The face value your friend Bradley talked about. The inside of you is coming out the same way as the outside,” he concluded, breaking into an easy smile.

“Yes, sweet Andres, my life is an open book. Just be sure to read between the lines,” I said ‘mysteriously’. “Shall we join the tourists inside? I believe I hear the sounds of a roulette wheel.”

We took a quick turn through the first floor casino area and I realized I couldn’t play any of the usual offerings. I had no experience in black jack, roulette, or craps. The slot machines were an easy choice, no expertise necessary – just the willingness to lose a lot of money real fast. They took paper money only, no ‘chump change’ allowed on board this boat!

“Shall we explore the upper level?” I suggested rhetorically, leading the way toward the circular iron staircase. A maroon velvet rope blocking the bottom of the access stopped us.

“May I help you, sir?”

I whirled around quickly to behold a beefy thug-type crammed into a rent-a-tux, two sizes too small for his expansive chest.

“Actually, old chap, I’m here to get some ideas for my operation in London. We have a three story club and need some easy cash flow for the top level.”

“May I see some identification, sir,” he insisted.

I pulled out my driver’s license – issued in Jamaica, of course. My gold-embossed business card listing the name, address, and the telephone number of the ‘Club PR’ also bore my name. He studied them for a half-minute, then turned toward Andres.

“Yo no hablo inglés. Señor,” he answered before I could.

“I’ll need to check with the manager. Wait here, please.”

“Good move, lover,” I grinned, as our confrontor disappeared into the door marked ‘Office’. “We do think alike!”

Mr. Manager was definitely two steps up from Mr. Thug. Young, slim, tanned, slicked back hair, with steel gray eyes that told you, ‘he was in charge’!

“May I be of service to you gentlemen?”

“We’re just passing through from our tour of South America on our way back to London. I’ve been collecting ideas from clubs and discos, looking to increase my cash flow,” I said, setting the stage. “Thought a small casino on my empty third floor might be the answer, but I don’t know how they work.”

“Of course, I’ll be happy to show you around.”

We followed him up the stairway. The upper level was fitted out like a comfortable lounge with a bar and several small card rooms for high stakes poker games.

“We require a ten thousand dollar deposit from those who wish to sit in at the private card tables.”

“A very classy operation,” I admitted.

“The first floor appeals to the tourist trade, strictly cash basis. A small buffet is served downstairs at midnight as we prepare to head back to the port.”

“May I ask how you select the right individuals for the second floor?”

“By reservation only, in advance, with payment on shore before we leave. The winnings are paid out on our return.”

“Less chance for being ripped off,” I observed. “Excellent business practice.”

“Exactly. Please feel free to enjoy the privacy of the bar, but the card rooms are strictly off-limits,” he warned.

“I understand, and thank you so much for the tour. I know you’re a very busy man.”

“Yes, if you have any questions, I’ll be in the office below.”

With that, he was down the stairs and out of sight. We glanced at the bar just as Kevin slipped behind to prepare a tray of drinks. We hadn’t even seen him enter. Must be a concealed back stairway.

“It’s now or never,” I whispered to Andres. “Kevin is alone and so are we.”

“Sí, mí amante,” he smiled as he took my hand in his.

“Que?”

“My lover, silly boy!”

We sidled up to the bar just as Kevin was carrying the tray around the end toward one of the rooms with the closed doors.

“Be with you in a minute, sir,” he called out, barely giving us a glance.

I presumed the card games were in full swing and the patrons were very thirsty.

“Stood up, broken hearted, again,” I breathed out quietly. “A line from a song by Ricky Nelson, not Ricky Martin,” I explained noting his quizzical look. “Way before your time and slightly before my time,” I grinned.

Kevin soon returned and slipped behind the bar, giving us his full attention.

“What is your pleasure, sirs?” he asked.

I glanced at Andres before replying, “Two Bombay Sapphire martinis, twist of lemon, on the rocks.”

Kevin stared at me in sudden recognition.

“Rick? That you?”

“In the flesh and my friend, Andres. What gave me away with my pimp clothes and Hollywood shades?”

“The drink order – your favorite!” he smiled. “What are you guys doing here?”

“Looking for you.”

“Bradley sent you, didn’t he? He just can’t let me do it alone,” he muttered. “I tried it his way and I’m not getting anywhere.”

“With your love life…or your career?”

“Both, I guess. I love Bradley but he has no time for me anymore.”

“I appreciate your honesty and I think you need to be up front about it and tell him. Don’t just disappear like this and not call him.”

“He gets so emotional when we talk about things like this.”

We listened to him rant on about ‘trouble in paradise’ while he continued setting up drink orders for the card rooms.

“When we dock, he’ll be waiting to pick us up – you should be there,” I advised.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right. I owe him big time for all he has done,” he sighed. “I’m over this job anyway. Too many weird people running this place.”

“So we’ve noticed,” I grinned in complicity. “Just don’t blow our cover, we’re a London club owner and partner, out for a tour of all the hot places.”

“You got it, Rick. No problem.”

We finished our drinks and headed back down to the casino floor to try out the slots. We encountered another unusual practice, cash cards were given out at a teller’s window. You paid into one of several ATM type machines with increments of ten dollars or more and ‘charged up’ the plastic card which was to be used for all the gambling tables and the slots. No winnings were paid in cash, just a credit to your plastic card. Money went into the machines, but the winnings, recorded on your card, were paid out upon leaving the boat at the end of the evening. Strange!

“Something is going on here that I don’t understand yet,” I confided to Andres. “Perhaps we’d better stick to the free food and drinks.”

Andres seemed unusually reserved and quiet, so I led him back out to the deck for a little Q and A.

“Baby, is there anything wrong?” I asked, turning him to face me as we stood out on the prow of the boat once again.

His eyes shifted out to the darkened sea, as he appeared to be thinking over my question.

“Have I done anything wrong?” I pursued.

“Rick,” he began slowly, “do you really, really love me?”

I was startled, but said nothing.

“Am I just a toy to play with until you go back to your lover in London?”

“Why would you ever think such a thing!” I sputtered.

“You didn’t want me when we first met, then you show me off to all your rich friends and buy me expensive things. Why is that, Rick? Am I not good enough for you the way I am, are you ashamed of me?”

“Been saving that speech up for a long time?” I asked bitterly.

“I am just ‘overwhelmed’?” he stammered it out correctly that time.

“I love you, Andres. I express my love in different ways. I’ve come to depend on you to be with me always, to be at my side as we face the rest of the world together. If I am going too fast or assuming too much control, I am sorry. I will change to please you. I never want to be without you ever! I love you!”

I leaned back against the stainless steel railing of the boat, ignoring the long plunge down to the water if anything should go wrong with the fastenings.

“I will slow down as we walk carefully through the rest of our lives, you and me, side by side. I am very proud of you, just the way you are.”

I drew him back into my arms and kissed him gently, as I whispered the reassurances that he needed. And I meant every word. No more illicit affairs, no casual glances at passing guys, no arguing, no assuming too much control, no blindness to the needs of my lover. He must always come first in my heart, in my mind, and in my soul. I was growing up – and about time, too.

I am learning that my life is not about me, it is about the one I love, and it is ‘all about Andres’!

---

CHAPTER SEVEN

---

We remained onboard the boat until most of the tourists had cashed in the plastic cards containing their evening’s winnings, for those that had any winnings. I hadn’t failed to notice the two guys slipping through the crowd with black attaché cases latched to their wrists by handcuffs. They disappeared into the office before the cash-outs began. Perhaps the money earned by the casino during the evening was surpassed by the winnings? Not likely! It was something else and I had guessed the secret.

As we strode toward the gangplank, the casino manager caught my eye and nodded. We veered over toward him.

“Did you enjoy the evening?” he asked pleasantly.

“Yes, a wonderful escape from the drudgery of business,” I ventured. “I’ve decided that the world of gambling is best left to the professionals. I’ll stick to what I do best.”

“Enjoy the rest of your stay in Miami Beach,” he said casually as he turned to the next group of guests behind us.

“Whew! I’m glad that’s over,” I confided to Andres as I took his arm and guided him toward the black Lincoln Towncar parked at the curb.

“Did you find Kevin?” Bradley called out excitedly from the lowered window of the rear passenger seat.

“He’s coming, Mother,” I grinned. “Or should I say ‘Daddy’ as in Sugar Daddy?”

“Don’t start with me, Rick,” he warned. “It’s been a long stressful evening, just waiting and waiting.”

The two of us slipped into the back seat next to Bradley.

“How is he?” he pressed, as we settled in.

“Oh, Kevin is just fine. Perhaps a little lonely right now and feeling a bit under-appreciated by his boyfriend.” I paused before adding, “It’s the floating palace of pleasure that concerns me.”

“Por qua?”

“He tries to speak French when he’s upset,” I confided to Andres before continuing. “Money laundering!”

“For who?” he demanded.

“For whom,” my dear Bradley.

“Look at the keyboard hack telling the editor,” he said cattily.

“At least I’ve got spellcheck on my computer among other things,” I grinned.

“Not that I’ve noticed,” he tossed back, “with the wretched condition of your manuscripts when you turn them in.”

“To answer your original question, could be the mob, a drug cartel or…”

“How do you know this?” he cut in.

“The everyday used currency goes in, never to be seen again. The payoffs are made with special money brought on board by two well-armed thugs with briefcases of the stuff.”

“What are we going to do about it?” he asked worriedly.

“Nothing. My priority in life is sitting right here next to me,” I smiled as I took Andres hand in mine. “And I suggest that your priority is walking down the gangplank as we speak.”

Bradley immediately glanced past me toward the boat.

“I encourage you to step out of the car and welcome him home with open arms – and ask no more questions.”

It was a contented group of four that rode the short distance back to Bradley’s apartment. Bradley and Kevin retired to their bedroom, Andres and I sought the privacy of the guestroom.

“Mission accomplished,” I said with a sigh. “Can we please go home now?”

“I will be very pleased to go with mi amante to Jamaica and see the beautiful plantation where ‘nothing much ever happens’,” he smiled as he curled up next to me on the bed.

So we set our departure for early the next morning, Miami to Montego Bay, via Air Jamaica.

One hour and forty minutes after gliding across the beautiful blue waters we landed at Jamaica’s Sanger Airport. No one was there to pick us up in the Bentley, because no one was expecting us. We hired a taxi and headed out Shore Road toward my home – correction, our home. More surprises for the guys at Sugar Hill!

The taxi proceeded up the dusty graveled lane, the entrance to Sugar Hill Plantation land. As usual, dried stalks of sugar cane marked the fallow fields on each side. Sugar production, given up many years ago, was still brought to mind by the many clumps of cane that refused to die.

“This is beautiful, Rick,” Andres exclaimed as we came out onto the paved carpark at the end of the lane. The stately limestone mansion, surviving hurricanes, fires, and the slave uprisings of 1831 still commanded a proud spot at the top of the rise, while the surrounding emerald green lawns, carefully manicured, stretched down to the edge of the sea.

“This is our home,” I whispered to Andres, “if you will accept me as your life partner.”

“Yes, my sweet Rick, we will change the meaning of LTR to life-time-relationship,” he breathed back.

The driver discreetly removed our luggage and set it out on the paving stones as Andres and I shared a moment of privacy in the rear seat, sealing our commitment with a kiss.

“Here comes our welcoming committee of one,” I noted as Jeremie came down the walkway from the stone-arched opening under the Great House.

“Mistuh Rick, you is back!” he exclaimed excitedly as I stepped out from the back of the cab.

He embraced me with a quick welcoming hug, then drew back suddenly as Andres emerged behind me.

“Lawsy, Mistuh Rick, you done adop’ anotha’ chile?”

“This is Andres, my life partner,” I proclaimed proudly, “and we ‘adopted’ each other.”

“I knows that. Mistuh Bradley done call already. I’s just havin’ a little fun,” he grinned. “Welcome to Sugah Hill, Mistuh Andres,” he said, turning to my lover and extending his hand in welcome.

“Could we drop the ‘Mister’ and ‘Sir’ please, Jeremie?” I begged.

“Yessuh, Mistuh Rick,” he kidded, “soon’s I tote these bags ova’ to the cottage.”

The old overseer’s cabin, the last vestige of the plantation days, had been remodeled into my personal retreat from the Great House, where I lived and wrote. This would be Andres’ home, too. All signs of Kim’s former presence there had long since been removed.

“I’ll give Andres a quick tour of the house and grounds,” I explained to Jeremie, “if you could whip up a light lunch for us down in the kitchen a bit later.”

“It be my pleasure, Rick,” he replied slyly. “That special honeymoon lunch is on the menu today.”

“Well, moving right along…” I said with a pink tinge of embarrassment, as I led Andres up the walk toward the limestone steps of the Great House.

I turned the polished brass knob and pushed the heavy mahogany door inward as I turned to Andres and said, “Welcome to the eighteenth century, Jamaica style!”

The cool lemon-scented air enveloped us as we stepped into the elegant entry hall of Sugar Hill Great House; and Andres’ eyes grew wide as he beheld the antique crystal chandelier casting it’s soft glow over the satiny surfaces of period furnishings and restored woodwork.

“This is a very beautiful house!” he exclaimed.

“For a very beautiful young man,” I returned as I led him through the first door on the right, into the library. “And that is our famous ‘white witch’,” I continued, pointing out the portrait over the marble fireplace. “She has been seen ‘haunting’ one of the bedrooms upstairs where, rumor has it, she was murdered during the great slave rebellion of 1831.”

Andres wandered across to the wall of bookshelves holding my collection of leather bound volumes, while my eyes rested on the leather sofa bisecting the room – the scene of ‘haunted memories’ of my own.

“Rick, are you okay?” he asked quietly, as he noted the sadness on my face and the glistening wetness in the corners of my eyes.

“Just unloading some more of that baggage I guess,” I apologized.

Perhaps I should have told him of Jaime’s body having been found on that very sofa, after he was brutally strangled by one of the thugs from Peru. Or I could have mentioned the passionate sexual trysts on that same cool black leather with Nicky, with Kim, and with how many others? Is what I’ve done who I am? But I couldn’t, for today was a new beginning for Andres and Rick. Time to bury the past, put ghosts to rest.

“Come,” I said with renewed enthusiasm, “there’s a secret garden behind the house. A very romantic place for two guys like us,” I grinned, as I took his hand in mine and led him out through the hallway to the french doors at the back.

A stone paved terrace stretched across the back of the house giving a brief glimpse from it’s elevated height of the lush green foliage of the miniature rain forest I had created. Six steps down, a brief walk across close-cut emerald green grass, and we were on a crushed gravel path meandering through subtropical plantings of young frangipani and royal poinciana trees. Exotic orchids bloomed in unexpected niches, rare ferns and cycads laced their fronds together along the forest floor. Rounding a curve along the path, we came across the stone bench where I had first pledged my love to Alix, and then to Kim, and to how many others? More baggage!

The crystal blue waters of the recently finished swimming pool soon came to sight as we rounded another bend. I could picture Kim shaking the water from his hair as he emerged from the depths, his almond shaped Eur-Asian eyes locked on mine. Memories that refused to stay buried in the photo album of my mind.

Across from the pool, a six-foot high hedgerow concealed the refurbished clay tennis courts. Andres and I entered through an iron gate inset among the shiny leaves of privet. Alix and I had made love on the edge of this tennis court once - long ago. Memories.

“One final stop on our ‘house and garden’ tour, and then lunch,” I promised with an easy smile.

Taking Andres’ hand in mine we made our way back to the house, around the far side and across the lawn sweeping down to the water’s edge. The sun was still high in the western sky as we approached the rocky promitory reaching out like an arm into the sea. A pebbly beach bordered the rest of the lawn’s edge. We sat together on the further most rock, staring across the gently rocking waves at a far distant horizon.

“What have I done to deserve a wonderful guy like you in my life?” I asked quietly. “And another chance at happiness.”

“One day at a time, Rick,” he said soothingly. “We belong together, you and me.”

I could have sat there the rest of the afternoon, holding this sexy young man in my arms, but hunger drew me back to the practical side of life.

“Lunch awaits,” I announced reluctantly, as I led Andres across the front lawn and in through the arched opening of the ground floor.

“Wine cellars on the left, business office on the right, and the kitchen is straight ahead,” I explained as we made our way through the dimly lit brick floored passageway of what used to be empty storerooms before the remodeling. “Sorry if I sound like a tour guide,” I kidded. “Just don’t want you getting lost.”

“With you as my guide, Rick, I’ll never be lost again. You’ve shown me the way and changed my life.”

Jeremie was hunched over the oven of the great Wolf gas range, as we stepped into the kitchen. Delectable aromas drifted across the room.

“Thought I was gon’ to haf’ to send the sheriff after you guys,” he scolded gently as he heard our footsteps behind him. “I be servin’ it up to the dinin’ room in just a New York minute.”

“Won’t we be disturbing the guests?” I asked.

“They ain’t no gues’ in this whole house!” he said.

“You send everyone on a field trip?” I laughed.

“Not ‘xactly. I be gettin’ to that later. Ya’ll just go on upstairs now.”

“With Jeremie around you’ll feel like your mother is with us,” I whispered as I led him up the back stairway to the dining room above.

“I hope not,” Andres kidded, “then we’d never get to sleep together.”

We took seats at one end of the great mahogany table, a housewarming gift from my neighbors when we finished the restoration of the original dining room. The rest of the antique furniture was carefully chosen to give our houseguests the feeling of stepping back in time, to a more gracious era.

“This be Mistuh Rick’s favorite – Hot Brown,” Jeremie announced as he set two silver covered plates down before us.

“An old Kentucky recipe from the famous Brown Hotel in Louisville, Kentucky,” I explained. “Toast points, thinly sliced smoked turkey, tomatoes, cheddar cheese sauce, and crisp bacon – very dietetic,” I chuckled as Jeremie whisked the covers off the plates.

“At least it’s not black bean and rice again,” Andres laughed, getting into the spirit of things.

“That’s served on Wednesday nights,” I grinned back, “along with fried pork and tostones – also very dietetic.”

“And served with my very special raspberry iced tea,” Jeremie chimed in.

“I heard a rumor one day that the recipe was actually Nathaniel’s,” I shot back.

“Don’t you be listenin’ to none of them rumors from Nathaniel, he jes be jealous o’ my cookin’!”

“You’d better take a chair and join us,” I offered. “I need to hear about those missing guests.”

“Nathaniel say he be ova’ later, Mistuh Rick. He tell ya all about it then.”

He made a hasty retreat, heading back through the butler’s pantry toward the rear stairway.

I gazed into Andres’ eyes as I sighed, “Rather be here alone with you, but I sense a mystery is afoot.” I reached over and took his hand before adding, “If I’m going too fast for you, just yell stop.”

“Wherever you lead, I’m right by your side, Rick,” he assured me, with an amused look. “Your friend Bradley was right about Sugar Hill – not exactly the ‘quiet countryside’.”

After finishing lunch and declining Jeremie’s offer of my favorite dessert, we strolled over toward the old overseer’s cottage.

“This is our ‘real’ home,” I explained, “a quiet retreat from the usually bustling business of the guest house.”

A short flight of wooden stairs led up to the covered verandah fronting the width of the house and offering a spectacular view down toward the sea. I pushed open the front door allowing Andres to enter first.

“Oh, Rick, this is beautiful,” he exclaimed, “and just perfect for two like us.”

“Two ‘what’ like us?” I grinned mischievously.

“Two young lovers entering into the LTR, of course,” he smiled back. “Do we have a bedroom also?”

“Thought you’d never ask,” I replied as I led him into the adjoining room.

The antique four-poster bed appeared to have been freshly made with crisp white linen sheets and a soft downfilled coverlet folded neatly back from the mound of fluffy pillows.

“I think we were expected!” I exclaimed, noting the two towels and matching cotton robes in the bathroom.

“You have hot water here in the country or should I take my boyfriend into the shower to keep me warm?” Andres asked slyly.

“Yes, to all of the above!” I chuckled, as I wasted no time in stripping out of my clothing.

The quick catnap stretched across the bed with my lover was interrupted by a knock on the front door. I shrugged into a robe and padded out into the living room in bare feet. I could see Nathaniel outside as I approached the door.

“I came as quickly as I could,” Nathaniel explained as he strode briskly through the door and gave me a great big welcome home hug.

“So did I!” I gasped, struggling out from his hearty embrace.

“We need to talk,” he said firmly, nodding toward the kitchen.

“Let me get Andres, he’s part of my life now.”

“I’m right here, Rick,” he nodded sleepily, as he came out of the bedroom in his matching robe.

“The newest member of the Sugar Hill gang, I presume,” Nathaniel grinned, as he stepped forward with a hug for Andres as well. “Welcome to Jamaica, Mon!”

“Coffee is on the way,” I said, slipping in to the kitchen. “Wish we had those warm scones to go with it!” I called over my shoulder.

“Tomorrow morning at Rose Hall, breakfast for three,” he promised.

“And Tommie and Phillippe?”

“On a cruise since the guesthouse is officially closed – for now.”

I kicked the kitchen door back against the wall in my shock to get back into the living room. There was a time I’d have kicked more than that, but this is the new, kinder and gentler me, emerging from the ruins of my past relationships.

“Aha, the mystery of the missing guests,” I said with a bit more self-control than my usual.

“Best discussed over the kitchen table with a steaming mug of coffee,” Nathaniel advised, leading the way back through the recently slammed door.

“I’ll tend to the coffee,” I said, a bit more subdued.

Nathaniel and Andres took seats across from each other at the pine-planked table, the scene of many previous discussions and problem solving at Sugar Hill.

“It all started with a registered letter from a legal firm in London,” Nathaniel began, as I carefully set two mugs of coffee in front of the guys. “Tommie took the liberty of opening it, since you were not available at the moment.”

“Which he had every right to do as he was acting as my manager and legal representative,” I agreed, joining them in the chair next to Andres.

“It was a cancellation of your lease agreement with the Carlysle estate for this property.”

“Can they do that?” I sputtered in indignation.

“Probably not, but with you ‘missing in action’, it was best to cancel all reservations until the matter can be resolved in court.”

I nodded in acceptance of the decision. We didn’t need any unpleasantness with some local constable serving a cease and desist order in front of our paying guests.

“Good thing you had a gun loaded with blanks,” Nathaniel chuckled. “If Kim had died, so would your lease.”

“Blanks!” I stared blankly.

“Alain was taking the prudent course to protect you,” Nathaniel explained.

“And let me wander through South America thinking I was a wanted man in England! Not too prudent if you ask me.”

I sat lost in thought, reliving my last hour in London, with Alain, Kim, and the blacking out.

“You owe him a load of thanks, his cooler head prevailed. He got you out of there before something really serious could happen, like Kim gunning after you.”

“Guess you’re right,” I conceded, “but how do you know all these details?”

“Bradley has been in contact with us here in Jamaica throughout this whole ordeal. He really is a true friend, looking after your best interests, as we all are.”

“So what do we do now, oh wise counselor?”

“I suggest we get good legal advice right away. Then…”

“You forget, Kim has stolen most of my money. Lawyers cost money, lots of it.”

“Then what would you suggest, Rick?” he asked with a hint of sarcasm, unusual for my big Rastah friend.

“How about we go to London and make a deal with Kim, end this thing right now before it gets any worse.”

“You have some leverage I don’t know about?”

“A video tape, locked away in my club’s office safe. It should be worth fourteen million…and change!” I grinned.

“Let’s sleep on it,” he sighed. “Sounds dangerous to me.”

“Breakfast at Rose Hall, then we form our plan of action,” I agreed.

“Nice meeting you Andres,” Nathaniel said, scraping the chair back from the table. “Rick’s lucky to have a beautiful guy like you around to look after him,” he added with a smile. “See you two in the morning then.”

Nathaniel strode out into the living room, then turned back with, “Rick, something I forget to ask you. Walk with me out to the car.”

I followed him through the front door and out on to the verandah. He pulled me aside at the top of the steps.

“Rick, I’m curious about something,” he began.

“Such as?”

“I thought you went on your odyssey to be alone, traveling solo to sort out your life, and all that stuff.”

“There is a big difference in being alone and being lonely,” I responded pensively. “The more I traveled the more depressed I became. My depression seemed to bring on my loneliness.”

“And that’s where Andres came in, to fill that void?”

“I…I guess so.”

“Not a very good reason to begin a new relationship,” he warned.

“Whatever the reason…I love him!”

“I sure hope so, for his sake and your own.”

He disappeared down the stairs and out into the darkness.

“Your friend doesn’t like me?” Andres asked as I found him standing inside the front door.

“Doesn’t think I deserve anyone so special; hope I don’t disappoint either of you.”

I awakened early next morning from the clattering of dishes in the kitchen. It wasn’t Andres, because I was looking at him and he was looking at me.

“It must be Jeremie,” I explained. “He thinks he has to ‘mother’ me.” I leaned over for a quick kiss good morning before I added, “Be right back with your coffee.”

“No breakfast, just Blue Mountain please,” I said as I pushed through the kitchen door.

“Got no gues’ to wait on,” he offered with a grin, “might as well fix you and the m…”

“Don’t even finish that word,” I warned with a smile. “Andres may look like an innocent young boy, but he’s more man than I’ll ever be.”

“So you be the ‘missus’!” he shot back with a sly glance.

“You’re not too old to spank either.”

“Just tryin’ t’ cheer you up, Mistuh Rick. I knows you been goin’ through some tough times.”

“They’ll get better, I promise. But we’re off to see Nathaniel this morning for a breakfast conference to put a little plan of mine into action.”

“You get back to bed wit’ yo’ …man. I bring yo’ coffee in a minute.”

“I didn’t see any of the cars yesterday when we arrived. We still have them don’t we?”

“Nathaniel done locked them up in the ol’ suga’ mill for safekeepin’.”

“We’ll take the ‘Z’ over to Rose Hall if you’ll find the key for me,” I decided as I slipped back out to the living room.

I could see Andres had gone back to sleep when I peered in at the bedroom door. His long dark hair fell gently down across his forehead, nearly touching an eyebrow. He did look very young. Was he? Did I even know his age for sure? But I must have seen his birthdate when we picked up his new passport in Quito – or did I?

I paced across the length of the living room, pulling the long cotton robe tightly around me. How much did I really know about Andres – on the inside? Only once had he really let down his guard, allowed me to see past the brave façade. That time in my room when we met up again after crossing the border into Peru. He had cried on my shoulder as I consoled him. There was an innocence revealed, a vulnerable frightened young man exposed very briefly. I must be very careful to let nothing ever hurt him, for I could be callous sometimes, hurting those I was supposed to love and cherish. Never again, Rick, I promised myself. This was a new life, a new me, and I had a new man to honor and care for.

“Just leave the coffee for now,” I whispered to Jeremie as I poked my head in the kitchen door. “I’ll come back out for it in few minutes.”

I slipped quietly back into the warm comfort of the bed, my arm wrapped lightly around Andres as I breathed in the essence of his youthful innocence.

“I love you,” I whispered.

He stretched catlike, arms and feet extended, as he rolled out of my embrace. “Did I sleep through breakfast?”

The trip over to Rose Hall had been delayed – a bit past breakfast, but just in time for a fashionable brunch, and Jeremie had thoughtfully brought the Z-4 out of storage and parked it in front of the cottage. How enterprising. I didn’t even know he could drive!

“Wow, Rick,” Andres exclaimed, “that is a beautiful car!”

“Would you like to drive us over to Rose Hall?”

“How can you trust me with …,” he began, but stopped.

“You do drive at home in Ecuador?”

“My father’s farm has only trucks and tractors. This is not the same.”

“Much easier, I’ll show you the shift pattern.”

We started down the dusty gravel lane with several unfortunate jerks and jumps, but he soon got the hang of it.

“Now a right on Shore Road,” I directed.

“No left to Macas?” he asked with a sly grin, as he pulled out onto the paved roadway.

Within a couple of miles we reached the stone gateposts of Tommie and Phillippe’s Georgian style Great House – Rose Hall Plantation.

“Everyone in Jamaica has casa grande,” he exclaimed in awe, as the structure loomed ahead.

The formal allee of palms framed the view in verdant tropical foliage.

“Not everyone,” I cautioned. “There is much poverty here as well.”

Nathaniel was waiting for us at the bottom of the stone stairs leading up to the formal entrance. His uncanny sense of my every move never ceases to amaze me.

“He will not like me driving your expensive car,” Andres whispered nervously as we drew to a stop in the stone paved motor court.

“This is your car, my beautiful one. My ‘welcome to Jamaica’ gift to my beloved Andres.”

“Rick, you must not give me these fine things. I am your lover, not some …”

“I know, baby,” I interrupted, “but I adore you so much I want to …”

This time he stopped me, with a most sensual kiss.

“We will talk of this later,” he warned, drawing away with a flush of embarrassment, as Nathaniel opened the driver’s door for him.

“Welcome to our family, Andres,” he greeted with a warm embrace. “Mi casa, su casa.”

“Gracias, Señor Nathaniel.”

After a whirlwind tour of the great mansion, for Andres’ benefit, we settled into our usual meeting place around the oak planked kitchen table, scene of many previous discussions and strategy sessions.

“We were planning to meet over breakfast,” Nathaniel began, as he glanced down at his watch, “but since it’s nearly noon, I guess we’ll call it lunch.”

“Sorry about that, we got delayed,” I grinned sheepishly.

“Oh, to be young and in love,” he smiled as he set a great platter of sandwiches down in the center of the table.

“So fill me in on your plan, Rick, while I get Jeremie’s special iced raspberry tea.”

“Ah-ha!” I exclaimed. “He said it was his secret recipe all along!”

As I munched down on Nathaniel’s version of a club sandwich, I thought about how I could express all the disastrous and evil things that had happened in England without alarming Andres. Just how much of my sordid previous life could he handle?

“Did you read my last book, Nathaniel, ‘Fade to Black’?”

“I’ve been too busy around here with Tommie and Phillippe’s household problems as well as the smooth running of your own place.”

“I apologize for leaving all that extra responsibility with you and Jeremie.”

I took another great bite of the sandwich and a quick swallow of tea – delay tactics.

“Okay, here’s the condensed version,” I began.

I quickly sketched out the finding of the video tape of Kim’s seduction of our new caretaker, Cedric. The needle injection of some drug and the sexual perversion – I glossed over quickly.

“My fleeing back to London, tape in hand, and the subsequent discovery of my missing money, had pissed me off so much, sorry about my language, Andres, I had set about investigating Stephen’s financial connection with the drug importing and distribution.”

“And you think Kim and Stephen were in it together?” Nathaniel cut in.

“I certainly do!” I seethed. “Kim may be devious, but he’s not savvy enough to set up all this alone.”

“So much for the background, now how about the plan.”

“I was getting to that.”

More sandwich, more tea, more delay.

“I’ll retrieve the tape from the club, check into a hotel, and offer to swap the tape and my silence for the return of my money.”

“Something about this doesn’t add up,” Nathaniel said shaking his head. “If Kim has your money, what does he need with the drug business?”

“That’s exactly why I think it was all Stephen’s idea. Get me out of the picture, open up Sugar Hill as part of the importing of drugs and increase the profits. My money keeps Kim busy with his remodeling of Carlysle Manor into a guest resort and out of Stephen’s way.”

“Sounds dangerous to me. What’s to prevent both of them from gunning for you this time, and putting you permanently out of the way?”

“Nothing.”

“That’s what I thought. Better get a new plan, Rick.”

“I hold the tape for you,” Andres chimed in. “They don’t know any of me.”

“Thank you, baby,” I placed a comforting arm around his shoulder, “but I can’t place you in danger.”

“I go with you,” he insisted. “Do whatever it takes.”

“He’s been watching American TV crime shows,” I grinned at both of them.

The ride back to Sugar Hill was a time for thoughtful reflection on my part. I think Andre’s revised plan just might work better for all of us.

“You drive very well, for a country boy from Ecuador,” I noted as Andres swung into the gravel lane leading up to Sugar Hill. “You do have a license don’t you?”

“Not for auto, only for on farm land.”

“Now you tell me!”

“I learn quick, Rick,” he smiled slyly.

Supper was a solemn occasion that evening. Jeremie served a simple repast of roasted chicken, whole new potatoes, and green beans – country fare for three country gentlemen. We were seated quietly at one end of the great mahogany dining table in the otherwise empty dining room of the eerily silent Great House.

“I hope this is not the ‘Last Supper’,” I joked quietly.

“What means that, Rick?” Andres asked.

“Our last meal together before…” I had meant to say, “before one of us dies,” but prudently stopped just in time.

“We get through this okay, Rick. I help.”

“Yessuh Mistuh Rick, we done been through ghosts, thugs, smugglers, and hurricanes. This ain’t nothin’,” Jeremie chimed in.

“Thanks guys, I needed that. A toast to D’Artangian,” I grinned, raising a wine glass. “One for all, all for one!”

They both looked at me oddly, I wonder why.

Andres and I went to bed early, as we were headed for the airport first thing in the morning. It doesn’t mean we went right to sleep, however. You know me better than that.

---

CHAPTER EIGHT

---

“You een trying to call me?” Kim asked suspiciously.

“Change your cell phone number?” I countered.

“Among other things,” he retorted. “What do you want?”

“To talk. Just you and me.”

“You armed?”

“Not recently,” I snickered. “It’s a new me, just sweet, kind, gentle…and very sorry.”

“Sorry you missed me the first time with that unloaded gun?”

““No, sorry it has come to this,” I sighed. “Us on opposite sides. It was not supposed to end like this.”

““Wasn’t supposed to end at all.”

““Things happen, people change.”

““Perhaps I’ve grown up and taken charge of my own life, headed in a new direction. But you – you’re still the same old whore! Got a new boyfriend I hear,” he added bitterly.

“After a few more unpleasantries, he reluctantly agreed to meet up, time and location to be decided later. Then he hung up on me.

““Well that went well, I think,” I muttered, turning to Andres.

““Everything is okay with your friend?” Andres

““Well, ‘it could be worse, it could be raining’,” I grinned. These movie lines keep popping up into my brain.

““You still have love for your friend,” he observed, as he regarded me from across the room with his most serious expression. “He hurt your heart.”

““He shattered my heart – multiple times,” I returned glumly, “but I’ve hurt him many times also.”

““I should not be here,” he said quietly.

“I strode across the room, taking Andres in my arms as he lay propped up on the bed pillows.

““We both have been through the tragedy of being spurned by those we chose to love. But we’re the lucky ones, we found each other.”

““Hold me tight, Rick,” he pleaded.

““You do belong here with me. Just let me cut loose the rest of this ‘baggage’ and toss it overboard.”

“We remained in each others arms for long moments until I could feel Andres relax and drift off to sleep. Jet lag had overtaken him, but I remained awake and quietly thoughtful while plotting my next step with Kim.

“Andres snuggled down into the bedcovers searching for a more comfortable position. I removed his shoes, his socks, and then gently kissed the tops of his smooth brown feet. I adored this man-boy, my salvation from loneliness and despair of the past year.

“Morning sunlight splashed in across the crisp whiteness of the fine cotton bed linens. Andres head still nestled comfortably into the downy pillow, just where he had laid it the night before. We had both succumbed to the stresses of the previous day and the late night talk with Kim. I still lay fully clothed at the bottom of the bed, my arms encircling Andres’ smooth tanned legs, my head close to the firm ridge of his maleness straining through the fabric of his briefs. I chose to avoid the temptations of awakening the sleeping boy and gently disentangled myself. We had a lot of important business to attend to today. Time to get on with it.

““He’s gone quite mad you know,” Alain admitted as he led us into the little office behind the cashier’s stand of my club, the ‘PR’.

““How do you mean?” I asked curiously.

““Well…acting the great lord of the manor and all that.” He dropped into a chair behind the desk, staring at Andres curiously, before continuing somewhat crossly with, “I suppose the two of you are staying here in our old room at the top.”

““Not at all, we’ve taken a room at the Regency, checked in last night.”

““I see. And Andres is your traveling companion?”

““More than that,” I confirmed, drawing my arm around his waist. “We’ve decided to make our relationship permanent.”

““Where does that leave me?”

““You’re my business partner as we agreed,” I responded firmly. “Whatever we’ve been through before – was of the moment. Nothing more.”

“Best to put Alain in his proper place now, I decided. Part of dumping the baggage and moving on with my life.

“Sullenly, he moved out of his chair and turned back toward the safe to retrieve my parcel – the video cassette.

““Look at the bright side,” I offered. “If all goes well with my transaction with Kim, you can have the entire club. I’ll transfer complete ownership to you. Andres and I won’t have any reason to ever come back to London.”

““Well there’s that, I suppose,” he said brightly. “I lose the hottest man I’ve ever known, but gain my own business.”

“Andres and I stepped back out into the hot bright sun of noontime in Soho and hailed a taxi to take us back to the hotel.

““Sorry you had to witness that little scene back there in the office,” I explained to Andres, reddening with embarrassment. “I knew this trip would be hard on you, finding out some of the things I’ve done in the past.”

““We both have a past, Rick. We go on from here – together.”

“Back in our hotel room, I walked over to the French windows looking down on the busy London street below – my mind whirling ahead to the upcoming meeting with Kim.

““It all just seems too easy, too smooth,” I remarked, my backed turned to the room and to Andres. “What am I missing here?”

““I want you to love me now Rick,” Andres whispered, as he came up behind me, his arms reaching around my waist. “We talk later.”

““I do love you, Andres” I said turning in confusion. “Oh, you mean…”

““Yes – make love to me now, Rick.”

“And we did, for the rest of the afternoon. He’s really learning how to handle me.

“After a sumptuous meal served in our room, I had come to a decision about the meeting with Kim. A neutral location must be found. Time to consult my legal advisor in Key West, Fielding Francois. I placed the transatlantic call immediately.

““Of course, how simple. I should have thought of this myself,” I muttered.

““What did he say, Rick?” Andres pressed.

““We’re to set up the exchange in the legal offices here in London. That leaves you and me both safe from the treachery of Kim – I hope!”

“But It didn’t turn out the way we had planned. I should have known – nothing ever does where Kim is involved!