We made decent time. The trails ran through land that had once been a settlement before Sherman had burned it all down. Now the area was a complex mixture of forest and old brick chimneys. I liked it a lot because the old gardens had grown wild over the years. The ghost town had become a jungle paradise of towering Azalea bushes, dogwoods, clematis vines, irises, daylilies and old roses.

Seeing Brian’s tryst with Nate had left me feeling confused, astonished and a little horny. What were Nate and Brian? What was I to Scotty? Are they boyfriends? Damn the English language and its interminable awkwardness regarding love. According to a preacher I once heard, the Greeks had six words for love where we only have one. No wonder we are always confused.

Boyfriend: what a totally useless word loaded with Tigerbeat tripe and romance novel drivel. I knew that Scotty and I were best friends, but that did not quite cover it. The word lover came to mind, completely wreaking my concentration.

I hit some roots at an awkward angle, crashed my bike and rolled into a bush. It was not just any bush. It was an ancient Azalea bush in full bloom attended by a squadron of angry bees that were not at all amused at my unexpected arrival. I jumped up and down, running and cursing all of bee-kind and their predictable irritability. I did that bizarre dance that people do when bees are after them; running down the trail, dodging and weaving. The bees soon lost interest in chasing me, and went back to collecting nectar.

To make matters worse, when I looked up, Brian was off of his bike rolling in the grass laughing. I snuck up to the bush to retrieve my bike. Luckily for me, the bees were contemptuously ignoring me as I made my escape. I walked to where Brian was rolling around in the grass laughing and sat beside him.

“It’s not funny-”, I complained. “Bees suck.”

This only served to ignite a new roar of laughter from Brian. Since he was useless, I decided to jump him and tickle him into a stupor. I wasn’t cruel about it. I quit before he stopped breathing and the two of us lay in the grass laughing.

When he had recovered enough to talk, Brian asked, “They didn’t sting you, did they?”

I smirked and shook my head.

“Oh my God Jimmy, where did you learn how to dance like that? You could be on Soul Train.”

“I don’t know about that. They would have to have bees. I doubt they would go for it.”

Brian started giggling again. I put my arm around him. He genuinely sparkled when he laughed. When Brian got silly like that, all of Brian laughed from his hair down to his toes. His laugh was contagious and spread like wildfire.

I paused for a moment and said, “Brian, there’s something I need to tell you. The only reason that I am bringing it up is because you need to be more careful. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have said anything about it.” By now Brian looked totally confused and a little worried. “I saw you with Nate.”

It took a moment to register and then Brian began blushing furiously and looked down in shame. I put an arm around him and said, “Don’t you dare look ashamed! You are just lucky that it was me. Had it been someone else, they might have caused trouble for you. You know that I won’t say anything or rag you about it.”

At first he was stiff but, he leaned into me and relaxed. We sat in uncomfortable silence on the trail for a few moments with my arm around his shoulder stroking his long red hair.

In a quiet voice, Brian said, “Thanks for being cool about it Jimmy.”

I asked him as delicately as I could, “Is Nate your boyfriend Brian?”

He shook his head and sighed. “Naw. He just likes to do it, and I like to get it done. That is why I always get such a good deal from him.”

“When did it start?”

“Last fall when we were all neck deep in shit. Weed always makes me a little horny and one day when we got high after school one thing led to another.”

I didn’t know what to say. Brian just looked mortified. All I could think to do was ask, “Does he treat you OK? He doesn’t make you do... rough stuff does he?”

Brian shrugged, “Naw, Nate is cool about it. It just makes me feel, I don’t know—cheap or something.”

“No Brian. You aren’t cheap. You’re a guy. I was not shocked or mad about you and Nate. I was just glad you were getting some. It’s good for what ails you if you ask me.”

He smiled and giggled softly. “You are right about that. It is good for what ails you. Come on, let’s get back to my house and see if Doug has made it yet.”

With that, we got back on our bikes and headed back down the trail.

We arrived at Casey’s house about 20 minutes later to find a strange truck in the driveway. It was a tremendous muddy Ford truck with a sign on the side:

Deveau Construction

Ruston, Monroe and Shreveport

Serving Central Louisiana since 1950

The back of the truck was full of boxes, tools and lumber.

Once Brian saw the truck, he sprinted to the garage at full speed and was in the door before I could make it to the driveway. When I got indoors, I could tell that Doug was home. Something that smelled great was cooking in a large pot on the stove. Doug was in the middle of the kitchen with Brian around his neck. I thought that I was intruding and was about to retreat when Doug gestured for me to come inside.

I had not seen Doug since July. He had not changed much. Doug was wearing faded 501 Levis with a red and blue Louisiana Tech t-shirt. He was taller, tan from working outside and, his muscles were wiry and defined. He was even better looking than I remembered.

Doug reached out and pulled me into the hug. I put my arms around both of them. Brian had his eyes shut, but his smile told me that the tears he was fighting back were happy tears. The three of us were too choked up to speak for a moment, so the hug had to do.

Brian finally said, “What are you cooking?”

“Red beans, rice and biscuits. Are you guys hungry?”

“Oh yeah!” Brian answered and began assembling plates, glasses and silverware for lunch.

As we ate, Doug filled us in on what he had planned. The construction company that he worked for built all sorts of things but their best sellers were hunting cabins. There were a number of different floor plans, all of which they had built dozens of times over. Doug and his Uncle had put together everything that he needed to build a modest one for us. He pulled out some plans to show us what he had in mind.

The cabin was 20 feet long, 8 feet wide and 10 feet tall. Inside the cabin was divided into several rooms: a kitchen/living room, bedroom and a loft just on top of the rafters for storage. There was a wood-burning stove for heat and a built in table. The windows had no glass but did have screens and shutters that latched from the inside. The cabin could be wired for electricity, but since it was out in the middle of nowhere, it didn’t matter. We hurried through lunch and got to work.

The first order of business was to get all of the materials to the site. It was no small task since it was a fifteen-minute walk through thick forest. We had a wheelbarrow and started shuttling material to the site. My favorite loads were the cinder blocks. It was a hard, heavy job that took up a large chunk of the afternoon.

We started the job by disassembling the old fort and put the scraps in a pile in case we needed it. I was surprised at how quick it was to take down compared to how long it took us to build it.

Doug’s first move was to put out and level ten cinder blocks. Once they were in place, we built a neat, solid frame of two by fours on the cinder blocks. Once the frame was in place, we laid down the plywood floor. We finished up just as the sun was going down.

Brian pulled out a nice fat joint, fired it up and passed it to Doug. After he exhaled, he asked, “How long do you think it will take to finish?”

Doug said, “We should be done by tomorrow afternoon. You two worked hard today. By the way, where is Scotty?”

I had been too busy to think about it. “I don’t know. He should have been here by now.”

Doug said, “The fort is down and we can’t stay here tonight. Casey is working the night shift so we have the house to our self. Why don’t we head back and get some supper? You can call Scotty’s house from there.”

A chill was in the air, so we agreed to head back to the house. Doug and Brian built a fire while I called Scotty’s house. No one answered. I got the feeling that Scotty’s parents might have pulled a fast one on him, and whisked him away to one of their relatives. They had been known to spring things on him to keep him from fighting about it. My own parents had pulled the same trick on me and probably would again. I loved my grandmother, but I was dreadfully allergic to her house. I would rather do most anything than spend weekends in the Delta.

We couldn’t smoke weed in Casey’s house, so we went out on the back porch. It was cold by the pool but not brutal. We passed around the bong for a while and went inside. The three of us sat around watching TV, laughing and being silly. It was not long before we started getting sleepy. Doug said good night and went into one of the down stairs bedrooms.

I grabbed my backpack and followed Brian upstairs to his room.

Brian’s room was large and spacious. There was a large bed, dresser, television, desk, adjoining bathroom and French doors that led out onto a balcony that overlooked the back yard.

Anticipating my question, Brian said, “This used to be Uncle Luke’s room before he died. Casey prefers to live on the ground floor because the stairs kill his knees.”

“Well you sure lucked out. It is way better than your old room, and you don’t have to share with your little brother.”

Brian appeared a little nervous. He walked over and switched on the television. It took it a few moments to warm up. He said, “Need a shower?”

“Yeah. I feel like I got half the dirt in the woods on me. Can we smoke out on the deck?”

Brian nodded.

“How about we get a shower and then catch a good buzz and crash?”

He smiled and said, “Guests first.”

I went in the bathroom and took a fast shower. Sure enough I had sticks in my hair.

When I finished, I walked out of the bathroom in sweatpants and Brian was watching TV in his tightie-whities. He said, “Why don’t you roll us a couple and I’ll be out in a minute.”

I grabbed a rolling tray and started rolling up a couple of joints that we called a triple option. First I took a small amount of weed out of the bag, removed the seeds and broke it into flakes small enough to roll evenly. Next I took out a pair of rolling papers and folded them with a flap to contain the weed. I then split the weed into two small piles and placed it in the rolling paper. Next I took my Swiss Army knife and shaved fragments of hash and Quaalude dust into the weed.

Brian emerged from the bathroom in some blue cotton gym shorts that caught my eye. I said, “You timed it just right. I was just finishing up.”

He asked, “Did you spice them up?”

“Oh yeah. We have the triple option: weed, ‘lude dust and hash.”

Brian said, “I have been looking forward to trying that.” He grinned, came over and sat beside me as I finished up the two fat joints. I handed him one of the joints, and we went outside.

It was chilly outside, and we were both scantily clad. The balcony had a rail and thick slats.

Brian said, “Come over here in the corner. It’s out of the wind and out of sight.”

I followed him into a corner formed by the balcony which formed an “L”-shape and overlooked the pool and the forest behind the house. There was a rug in the corner and a well-used ashtray.

We sat down on the rug, lit up one of the joints and passed it back and forth. It had a rough taste from the Quaalude dust, and it hit like a jackhammer. Time seemed to dilate, and I was aware of my heartbeat.

I noticed that Brian was shivering so I pulled him into my lap and wrapped my arms around him. His soft, cool skin felt intoxicating against my bare chest. The pressure against my crotch had the inevitable consequences.

I mumbled, “Ummm, you feel good.”

“You too. You’re like a great big electric blanket.”

We finished the first joint and started working on the second one. The mixture was potent, and we were both flying. When the joint was about half done, Brian turned around facing me in my lap with his long legs around me. He was sporting a big tent in those skimpy gym shorts.

I took a drag on the joint, turned it around in my mouth and blew him a series of shotguns. I passed the joint to him. He returned the shotguns, and our lips touched. It was like an electric shock to both of us.

Brian put the joint down and began kissing and grinding against me. I didn’t think. My body was doing all the thinking. Our hands were exploring.

I stood up and pulled Brian up beside me. I was very high. The combination of the triple option and hormones had my head swimming.

We staggered inside and closed the French doors to the balcony behind us. Brian turned on his radio and turned out the lights. The light was still on in the bathroom so that we could still see.

The two of us came together in an embrace by the bed. I pulled him close with our boners in direct contact. We kissed, and I ran my hands around his back and finally down to his butt.

We held each other for a moment before my brain got in gear. I asked, “Are you sure?”

There's a Rose In a fisted Glove

And the eagle flies with the dove

And if you can't be with the one you love It's alright

Go ahead and love the one, love the one, love the one your with

Love the one, love the one, love the one your with

Love The One You're With Lyrics by Crosby, Stills, Nash

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