It took a few days, but Ricco’s body was eventually identified by a national fingerprint match. The Reston Police Department recognized the murder as a professional hit; the man’s wallet, gold ring and gun were all found at the scene. It wasn’t a robbery, obviously, and the gun he carried without a permit suggested the man might well have been in trouble with law-enforcement agencies sometime in his life—possibly outside Washington State. The FBI was one of the agencies contacted, and their organized crime unit had Ricco’s prints in their file.
The Reston Police Department had no success finding who had killed Ricco. They had nothing to go on and quickly turned the investigation over to the FBI. Eventually, much later, the FBI came to talk to Mr. Scott at the school. They wanted to talk to Derrick Winters to see if he had anything to do with the killer who seemed to have been assassinated. Mr. Scott explained to them that the boy WITSEC had sent to him had disappeared soon after arriving. His name was Derrick Winters, and Derrick had told him that he didn’t feel safe in Reston, that he knew some people he could stay with elsewhere and he was going there. Then he’d simply left. Mr. Scott hadn’t been sure whom to notify of this, but as the U.S. Marshal’s service had brought the boy to him, he’d notified them. No, he couldn’t remember the name of the person on the phone he’d talked to, he’d been kicked around to several people, but they should have a record of the call. If they couldn’t locate it, the problem was on their end and nothing to do with him. No, he hadn’t called WITSEC or the FBI; why should he have? He’d only dealt with the Marshal’s Service when they’d brought him the boy. No, he’d never seen this Ricco guy. He had no idea why he’d have been killed—or even been in Reston, for that matter—but now it seemed clear that Derrick had had good reason to feel unsafe and leave when he had. No, Derrick hadn’t told him where was going, and he didn’t have a clue where he was now. “Anything else?” he’d asked, and the FBI had left.
This was after Ricco was finally identified, after the gears of the justice system had ground slowly as they so often did. Mr. Scott wasn’t surprised when a month later he was contacted by the U.S. Marshals Service and asked to send Derrick Winters back to New York. They had no idea of all that had happened in Reston. Interdepartmental information-sharing seemed as dicey as he’d seen it depicted in novels he’d read.
Mr. Scott told them that the FBI has already been in town looking for the boy and how that had gone. Then he asked why the Marshals Service wanted Derrick back.
“What do you mean, ‘why’?” the man on the phone said. “We sent him to you for safekeeping. He’s now safe, so he needs to be returned here. We need to clean up our case file, and he’s a loose end. The DA here will decide what to do with him. They’d planned to return him to his mother, but that won’t work. We checked: she’s dead. Overdose. That probably means he’ll go into foster care or a home, or perhaps he’ll want to emancipate himself. That’s complicated and can take some time, but it can be done; it’s an option. In any case, he needs to come back here since he left from here. That’s how it works. I’m arranging a flight for him. I’ll send you an E-ticket shortly.”
“Well, don’t. He isn’t here. The boy you sent here left soon after arriving. I notified you guys then. Both you and then later the FBI. You two agencies ever talk to each other, keep each other in the loop? If you want the boy—and your reason for that seems thin to me—you’ll have to track him down. I haven’t seen him since the day after he arrived.”
“Um, I’ll have to speak to my supervisor about this.”
“Good idea. But whatever, leave me out of it. I’m tired of being bothered by all this and have told you everything I know. Goodbye.”
Mr. Scott related the conversation to Jake that evening.
“But what if they come here looking for me?”
“The FBI already did, and they just talked to me and seemed satisfied. I don’t think they’ll pursue this. I’ll be surprised if we hear from them again.”
“Why’s that?”
Mr. Scott got up and poured himself a glass of wine from an already opened and recorked bottle of red. Seated again, after taking a sip, he said, “They screwed up, and if you weren’t underage and didn’t look up to me for moral guidance—” Mr. Scott stopped to grin “—I’d have used a different word than ‘screwed’. Between them and WITSEC, they and their system allowed this Ricco guy to find you, and he came very close to killing you. Two agencies fu—, uh, screwed up. If they make waves about finding you and bringing you back against your and my wishes, they know I might talk to the papers about the jeopardy they put you in. They do not want any publicity at all about how WITSEC failed you, as did the police department and the DA’s office. The Marshal’s Service, too. For instance, the guy was supposed to be wearing a tracking collar on his ankle. He managed to deactivate that somehow. Do you think they want that known?
““But that’s only part of it. It’s an important part because we’re dealing with bureaucracies that like to dot i’s and cross t’s, but only a part. What’s more important is the simple fact that you’re of no value to them. What need do they have for you? None at all. You aren’t worth the hassle they’d have trying to find you, and then if they did that, pulling you away from wherever you were could quite possibly be against your wishes, and you could squawk about it. Loudly. So there’s that, and also the fact that I’ve already been contrary enough with them for them to infer there could be a major rumpus if they persist in bothering me trying to find you and bring you back there.”
“So I can stay here? Really? And you want me to? To stay with you?”
For the first time, Mr. Scott thought he might see Jake cry. He got up and hugged the boy, which was difficult as Jake was still seated. Suddenly he wasn’t any longer. He was standing and fiercely hugging Mr. Scott back.
They discussed what Jake’s name should be. Jake had already told him he liked Jake. Liked it better than Nick, and he’d been Derrick in a much different life. He also thought having a new name helped separate him from his old life. He’d become used to Jake, and it simply felt like his name now. All it would take would be telling all the people here who’d known him as Nick that that was an alias he’d been using due to his legal problems back in New York, and he was now and would be forever Jake. Poor Jeremy wouldn’t know up from down; he’d have to get used to it.
His last name was more problematic. Mr. Scott told him that, as Jake was going to live with him, that if he wanted it, he could use the name Scott. “In fact,” he said, “I would not be against adopting you, Jake, and in fact would consider it an honor to do so if that’s something you’d like. Besides,” and he stopped long enough to smile, “you’ll need a last name that has a legal basis when you go for a driver’s license, something you’ll want to do in the near future.”
Jake felt a warm glow when he heard that. Jake Scott. Wow! He’d felt he was missing something in his life after he’d walked out of the house he’d shared with his parents. He wasn’t one for metaphorical illusions, but he’d often thought of himself being much like a tumbleweed, being blown hither and yon by forces over which he had no control. Living with Mr. Scott had given him a taste of security, permanence, even of family, that had been missing for so long. Now the man was offering to make it legal, to make the relationship they had abiding. It was no wonder Jake felt a glow that reached inside all the way to his heart.
He thought back to the parking structure and Mr. Scott throwing himself in front of what he expected would be a bullet. He shuddered with the memory but thought again of Mr. Scott doing that, thought about him making that sacrifice for him; thought about what a great dad the man would be.
Jake felt no allegiance to the name Winters and certainly not Delgado or Karras, names chosen for no reason other than to obscure his identity. He liked the name Scott, and he loved that Mr. Scott was throwing the possibility that it could be Jake’s out for consideration. But this seemed too important to just casually be suggested and then accepted. This was a major deal!
Jake did like the idea but thought it best to let some time pass before deciding for sure. He’d been living with Mr. Scott on a temporary basis; now it would be permanent. Would their relationship change because of that? Wouldn’t it be good to actually see what it would be like to be living together with them both knowing this could be permanent before taking that final plunge?
He needed that time, he decided. But he saw Mr. Scott looking at him, waiting. And he didn’t want to hurt his feelings.
“You know, I’d like to wait a little before making that change,” Jake said solemnly. “I’m over-the-top thrilled you’re willing to adopt me. And I’m pretty certain I’ll say yes. But letting a little time pass, letting all that’s happened sink in, having my feet firmly on the ground here—well, I’d be more comfortable if we wait just a bit.”
Mr. Scott smiled, which relieved Jake. He was still the same unassuming, relaxed man, and Jake hadn’t hurt his feelings. In fact, Mr. Scott’s smile gave Jake the opportunity to further ease any tension between them should it exist.
“Besides,” Jake said, putting on a faked smug look, “I have to think about it because being adopted would probably mean a change in house rules, and I like the absence of them we have now.” Then he laughed when Mr. Scott said they’d have to discuss it. Then Mr. Scott joined in the laughter.
The next morning at breakfast, Jake said, “I didn’t sleep much last night. I kept thinking about all this. That you really want me to live here with you. That you’re willing to adopt me. This is life-changing for me, but for you, too. You’re a confirmed bachelor. You told me you liked living alone.”
“That was before I lived with anyone,” Mr. Scott responded. “If you left now, Jake, you’d leave a huge hole in my house and my life. In my heart, too.”
And so it was settled. Unless the authorities made a huge fuss and a whole slew of lawyers got involved, Jake was staying, adoption proceedings would begin, and Jake would become Mr. Scott’s son. Not nephew. Son. Waiting to see what that would be like would have been ridiculous, Jake had decided. He knew what it would be like. And he would love it. He’d belong to someone, and it was someone he loved and could trust.
No more tumbleweed.
= = =
Gary was becoming a fixture at Mr. Scott’s house. Jeremy was there a lot, too, and the three boys swam a lot. None of them bothered with bathing suits. Mr. Scott never did join them. Jake figured there must be at least one house rule the man obeyed, even if Mr. Scott had never vocalized it.
The next Saturday, when Jeremy came to mow the yard, tend to the flower beds and swim, he brought a surprise with him. “Mr. Scott,” he said, his smile as wide as it could be, “this is Evan. Evan is my boyfriend!” Mr. Scott had never heard Jeremy sound so proud.
Evan was a boy who looked a little younger than Jeremy and was a lot more shy. He was cute with bright red hair and the light complexion that went with it. While Jeremy rarely had a thought he didn’t put into words, Mr. Scott was to find that Evan rarely opened his mouth. He blushed when being introduced and edge closer to Jeremy. Jeremy reached down and took his hand, and Evan looked up at him gratefully.
“Evan’s going to help me in the yard,” Jeremy said. “That’s okay, isn’t it?”
“Sure. He can join us for a snack, too, and he’s can go in the pool with you. You know, Jeremy, you’re sort of an adjunct member of this family, and Evan’s just as welcome here, too.” He turned to speak directly to Evan. “Very nice meeting you, Evan, and my door will always be open for you. I’m happy for you both.”
Gary came over later that morning, and the four boys eventually ended up in the pool. It was something, getting Evan to come in with them when he realized no one would be wearing a suit, but Jeremy spoke to him, just the two of them on the patio, and finally, when the other two boys had been swimming for some time, Jeremy and Evan walked out onto the pool deck, shrugged off their robes, Evan blushing all over, and they quickly jumped in. After that first time, Evan never had a problem swimming naked again. He’d still blush, though, from time to time.
= = =
The band kept practicing in Peter’s garage and kept performing at the bar. Live-music nights, which meant the boys would be there performing, packed the house. It wasn’t only the older gay men who attended now. Word had gotten out, and younger gay couples began showing up. They may or may not have been as familiar with the music as the older guys were—may not have been at all familiar with it—but they were captivated once they heard it and kept coming back for more. Thursday nights at The Bent Nail became nights full of romance with lots of hand-holding and fervid looks between couples in the bar and who-knew-what at home afterward.
At a rehearsal, Keith spoke to Jake when the other two weren’t there. “So when did you want to play that song?” Then he grinned. Jake could tell he’d figured out what keeping it a secret was all about. He’d seen the muted interactions between Gary and Jake.
“This Thursday,” Jake said, and Keith nodded and clapped him on the back.
The group did what now was their usual, a ten-song set. It had quickly become a tradition at The Bent Nail that they’d repeat one last song at the end of their performance, the song selected by the audience from that night’s set. At this week’s gig, Jake didn’t make the usual announcement that they’d do one last number and that the crowd needed to decide what that would be. Instead—
“Gentlemen, ladies, I’m going to sing something different to close our night with you. A song the group hasn’t played yet. In fact, a song that the whole group doesn’t know we’re about to play. If we sound a bit rusty, it’s because we haven’t even rehearsed it all together ever. But it’s my choice to sing it, and you’ll figure out why when you hear it. I’m sure you’ll like it. It’s a 1953 song from the musical film Calamity Jane called Secret Love.”
While Jake was speaking, Keith was passing out the sheet music to Peter and Gary. Then he played the intro on the keyboard, the others joined in, and Jake sang.
Once I had a secret love
That lived within the heart of me
All too soon my secret love
Became impatient to be free.
So I told a friendly star
The way that dreamers often do
Just how wonderful you are
And why I'm so in love with you.
Now, I shout it from the highest hills
Even told the golden daffodils
At last my hearts an open door
And my secret love's no secret anymore.
Jake repeated the last stanza with even more emotion than he’d had singing the entire song, and that had been a lot. The room was quiet for a second when he finished as Jake looked like he was almost overcome. In fact, Gary set his bass down and came up to support him. Jake looked at him, then took his hand and faced the audience after nodding at Keith. Keith caught on and began the song again, and Jake sang it a second time, this time holding Gary’s hand and looking directly at him. When he was finished, he pulled Gary to him and kissed him. It wasn’t a little peck on the lips, either. He kissed him passionately, and the crowd went wild.
It should be noted in passing that the following week, after they’d played their set, someone in the crowd yelled, “Do My Secret Love,” and everyone cheered. Jake looked at the yeller and said, “I’d be happy to, but you’ll have to point him out to me.”
The crowd was laughing and cheering so hard after that the boys were able to get off stage without repeating a song that night.
After singing the song that first night and singing it again to and for Gary, Gary had appeared dazed for a moment or two, then looked at Jake with adoration. Halfway through the song, before and after the kiss that followed, he had a gigantic, beatific smile on his face that never left it.
= = =
The weekend following the night Jake had declared to the world that he and Gary were in love, Jake with his song and kiss, Gary with his participation in the kiss and smitten smile afterward, Gary was spending the night with Jake for the first time ever. He was nervous.
But his nervousness was mixed with his excitement. “I . . . I’ve never done anything before. With anyone, I mean. Nothing. I’ve seen porn, of course. I . . . I want to do some of those things I’ve seen. I don’t think . . . I’m not ready for all of it. But a lot of it looks . . . Well, it’s just that I haven’t ever even touched anyone else’s, uh, you know.” He was blushing ferociously by then.
He looked down at the bed.
Jake knew he had to slow everything down. He pulled Gary down onto the bed with him and then wriggled back so he was against the headboard, then had Gary join him there.
“I’ve done some stuff, but it was some time ago, and it was kid stuff. I told you about learning all those martial arts skills in the gym with the kid who’d saved me from the bullies. I told you his name was Kim and that he was my age. I spent a lot of nights at his house when I’d left mine. Well, we were young, and we were horny like kids are, and both of us were eager to find out what sex was like. We were sleeping in his bed, together and young and horny, so of course it wasn’t long before we were touching and playing with each other. So yeah, I’ve done some stuff with another guy. And the thing is, I loved it. I never fell in love with Kim, but I loved what we were doing.
“I started really noticing boys about that time. I didn’t want to be gay, even though I loved being sexual with Kim. He wasn’t gay, but what difference does it make at that age?
“I tried not to be gay, fought with myself about it, but I lost that fight. Then I saw you. The first time I saw you, at the mall when you were with Jeremy and Grady, I felt something, and it’s grown much stronger as I’ve gotten to know you. I knew you liked me. You made it pretty clear, and when you came out at school once Grady was gone, I didn’t think there’d be any problem doing what I did at the bar.”
Jake stopped to kiss Gary, then nuzzle him on the neck. He was running his hands lightly over Gary’s naked torso. “I wanted you to know about that,” he whispered in Gary’s ear before tickling it with his tongue, “and to know that I have just a little more experience than you do, but nothing recently. Nothing since I was more of a little kid than I am now. I wanted to tell you that, and also that, yeah, we’re going to do stuff tonight, do it right now, and we’ll go slow or fast or however you want. You can set the pace. If you want to do no more than touching, that’s what we’ll do. If you want to do more than that, that’s okay, too.”
He stopped to raise his head to smile at Gary. “Mr. Scott keeps telling me he and I need to talk about anything and everything. Well, that holds true here, too. We’re going to do stuff tonight. Tell me what you’re feeling. What you want and don’t want to do. That way we’ll be together with it. Okay? Talking’s good.”
Gary nodded, now looking more excited and less nervous. Glancing down, Jake could see just how excited he already was.
Gary gulped when Jake reached down and touched the protrusion pressing up in Gary’s boxers. “Ohhhh,” he said—or at least made a sound that approximated that. “Yeah, do that. Yeah. Ohhhhh. Uh, but, well, see, I haven’t ever even touched anyone like that. Never.”
Jake adopted what he hoped looked like an evil grin. He waited till Gary raised his eyes to see it, then said in a leering voice, “You won’t be able to say that in the morning.”
Gary’s eyes widened, then flashed with something that gave Jake the impression he was trying to match Jake’s grin. Gary, his voice husky, said only one word.
“Good.”
The End
Secret Love: Music: Sammy Fain. Lyrics: Paul Francis Webster
Cover Photo: The image is copyright Mar’yan and is licensed from Adobe Stock, file #259195179; used here by permission of the licensee.
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My editors—Colin, Rob, Andrew and Rec—are dear to my heart. Thanks so much, guys, for making these story what they are. If any errors persist, they’re mine, not theirs.
And thanks to Mike for putting up with the problems I give him. What a wonderful man! Please find the time to donate to his remarkable site and keep these stories available to everyone.
Cole