Heaven's Gate

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Second Edition

ISBN 978-1-939275-40-0

Designed by Nathan Everett
ElderRoadBooks@outlook.com

Living Next Door to Heaven

Book 1: Guardian Angel

This begins the coming of age adventure of Brian Frost, would-be chemist and aspiring cook. And loyal enough to his friends that they gather to him and become fiercely loyal. All because Jessica told them a fairy tale.

Book 2: The Agreement

Do whatever is necessary to protect and defend the ones you love. Treat others with kindness and respect. Keep your promises. Brian lived by those Life Rules. Having survived junior high, Brian finds himself in a troublesome position. His classmates, the crew he’s been hanging with for the past four years, are worried. Sex is looming on the horizon and hormones are wreaking havoc on their relationships. They ask Brian, who has proven he can be trusted and will protect them, to give them rules for dating that they can all follow. But it remains to be seen if twenty-two teens can date each other—mix or match—and maintain their friendships, boundaries, and virtue.

Book 3: Foolish Wisdom

The game changes as Brian and his dating group enter their sophomore year in high school. Some of the boys and girls can’t wait for the sixteen-year-olds’ rule that expands the limits on touching. Just no penetration. But how fast and how far does each teen want to go? They will scarcely have time to worry about it in the face of a wedding, a summer job, new school rules, a campaign against the school board, basketball, gymnastics, martial arts, shifting alliances, and broken dreams. And horses. It’s all in a typical teenager’s day. These kids are no exception.

Book 4: Deadly Chemistry

Most of the crew are juniors and seventeen. The rule against penetration has been eliminated. Who will be first to go all the way? Surprisingly, none of them are rushing. Maybe because they are waiting for Brian and Whitney to take the lead. Prom night will be something special. In the midst of their conjugal joy, disaster strikes again. “Do whatever is necessary to protect and defend those you love.” It was Brian’s mantra. It was all that kept him sane after a confrontation he could never mention to anyone. And Hannah understood.

Book 5: The Rock

Hannah has been hospitalized by her unstable boyfriend. Brian has had enough and vows to bring her home. When he faces the hyped-up, steroid and meth-driven boyfriend, he must become the rock that Whitney has taught him to be. Bringing Hannah home is only the first step. Injured, depressed, and near suicidal, Hannah believes she deserved what she got. Now Brian must become a different kind of rock—one that Hannah can cling to as she climbs from the stormy seas of her depression.

Book 6: El Rancho del Corazón

Brian Frost, one-time runt geek of the neighborhood, has gathered nearly 40 others into the Clan of the Heart. He has become the protector and leader, or Patrón, of the clan. Casa del Fuego comprises thirteen women and two men. Now, most of them are going to college, many to Indiana University in Bloomington. They have their love, their ambition, and a new home: El Rancho del Corazón. It should be smooth sailing from here on. Right? Until the ranch house burns down, they are accused of arson, a college pseudo frat decides the ranch is party central, and they have to produce Brian’s cooking show in the barn. Don’t forget college classes, social events, and lovers.

Book 7: Hearthstone Entertainment

Hannah has become the driving force of the clan’s video production company, Hearthstone Entertainment. And Elaine is launching her television career with a new talk show, Chick Chat. And guess who the premiere guest will be! Jessica, Brian’s Heaven, his guardian angel, has agreed to take time from her jet-setting model career to help the clan get started. It’s love all over again for Brian, but a rocky road to get Heaven back inside the clan and into their family. Nothing seems to work out right when it comes to getting the two into the position they’d both wanted as long as they could remember.

Book 8: Becoming the Storm

Tragedy strikes the campus and the clan. In the act of becoming a hero, Brian nearly dies and much of his past—the past he has kept hidden—is exposed. In the midst of PTSD and a perceived threat against his family, can Brian recover his confidence enough to become the storm and bring them safely to the other side? If it weren’t for the enigmatic Dani and her faithfulness, there would be no hope.

Book 9: Heaven’s Gate

In the wake of the tumultuous events in Book 8: Becoming the Storm, the crew deserves to have a little less stress in their lives. Of course, as they reach their mid- to late 20s, those nasty biological clocks start ticking and there is likely to be a population boom on the ranch. And along with births come the losses that we incur as adults in an adult world. People change. People move away. People die. People are born. People get married. In the long run, it is not about what you believe, but how you live. And Heaven is beginning to see that she might have a path back to the love she left behind. Is there anything that can actually bring her back to live next door?

Book 10: What Were They Thinking?

“Now look,” my friend said, “you and I both have daughters not long out of their teens. We can read this story and think ‘Where was this when I was in school?’ But if your daughter or my daughter came up to us and said, ‘Yeah, Dad, I’m spending the night at my boyfriend’s house with our ten other girlfriends,’ we’d have said, ‘Oh, no you aren’t!’ and we’d have made it stick if we had to sit at the door with a shotgun. What the hell were those parents thinking?”

Part I:
Making XX/XY

1
Fast Forward

“I LOVE YOU, my little Girl Scout,” I whispered as Jen cuddled to me. Alone in the master suite. It was so unusual, but it was what Jen wanted for her birthday.

“Am I a bad Girl Scout?” she asked, a slight quiver in her butt as I stroked her cheeks.

“No, my love. You are a very good Girl Scout. You deserve a merit badge.”

“I was so… I can’t believe today what I did that night when you rescued me.”

“We were fourteen. What did we know?”

“Nine years ago. Can it really be that long?” I kissed her. Nine years? I was in eighth grade. Jen and Courtney were freshmen. So much had changed. And so little.

When I withdrew my lips from hers, I lowered them to her lush ripe breast and circled her left nipple with my tongue. I squeezed her butt cheek with my right hand.

“I still can’t decide if I prefer your incredible breast or your perfect butt,” I laughed. “I couldn’t do without either.”

“Brian,” she sighed as she stroked my cock. It was the soft sigh of contentment, not of despair. Jennifer suddenly became very intense as she pushed far enough back to look into my eyes and then look down to where she rubbed my cock against her pussy lips. “Brian, I love you. Yours is the only man’s cock that has ever been in my pussy. Or my butt. You know that I’ve played with the other guys. We’re all so close. I sucked Josh. More than once while Cassie and Mary took turns eating me. I’ve played with Carl and Doug. I even jacked Lionel off once before he and Sugar got serious. But only your cock will ever slide in and out of my vagina. You are all I crave.” I smiled at her and chuckled.

“Unless it’s made of plastic,” I said. She blushed.

“I said ‘man’s cock.’ I can’t help that I like to play with women. I like it a lot.”

“Are there any in the clan you haven’t tasted?”

“None who were willing. I don’t force myself on others.”

I sucked on her nipple and she held my head against her breast, her breath deepening. We were taking a lot of time for her birthday loving. We both knew that I would eventually be in her pussy, stroking as we neared mutual bliss. But not yet. My hand slid around to the front and I stroked through the soft curls of her pussy. She barbered enough to tuck into her bikini if we went swimming, but she’d never felt the need to completely shave things. I really didn’t mind that at all. Her soft, light brown hair simply got softer as she lubricated.

“I think I’m a lesbian,” she whispered. “Playing games with guys is fine. Making love with you is wonderful. But mostly, I’d prefer to be burying my face in a girl’s snatch while she licked me to orgasm. I love you and I love making love to you, but you are my only man.”

“What is it you like so much, little Girl Scout?”

“Mmm.” My finger ran through her slick juices from her perineum to her clit and lightly traced the contours. “I like the smell. I like the taste. I like just opening a woman’s folds and looking at the mysteries revealed there. Oh!” I slipped a finger into her as she pressed the head of my cock against her clit and moved it back and forth.

“I like all that, too,” I whispered.

“But you know what I like most?” she panted. “I like exploring a woman’s sex with my tongue. I think I never got out of infancy when I wanted to put everything in my mouth. It’s the texture. The way my tongue just slides along a fold. It’s exploring the different parts and seeing her lubricate when I touch certain areas. I like the way she clamps down on my tongue when I thrust into her vagina. I like feeling the little ridge of her pee hole and feeling her thighs vibrate against my ears. I like playing with her clitoral hood and pretending that I can stick my tongue between it and her clit and feeling the changes that come over her clitoris as I squeeze it softly with my lips and suck on it while I tongue her. And then, if I’m in the right position at just the right time, I love to pull my head back a little and touch the side of her clit so I can watch her come. That little extra pressure just where she needs it. And then her juices just flow from her pussy and it flutters open and closed as if it were seeking, searching, inviting me to come into her. And I hold my tongue at her opening just to feel her opening and closing on me while she comes. That’s when I wish I had a cock. I wish my clit would grow just long enough that it could enter her channel and feel that pulsing warmth pulling at me. Sometimes, I come, just from watching her.”

While Jen spun her tale of lesbian love, I inched my way down her body until my tongue could be deployed in all the things she described. Jen had always had a very light scent, hardly noticeable until I was right down with my nose against her clit. When I thrust my tongue into her, I could feel the fluttering of her muscles and the inevitable draw. I looped around her clit with the tip of my tongue and she gasped. Then I dipped lower and rimmed her asshole, which brought her butt up off the bed and let me grip both cheeks in my hands. Jen went rigid and I lapped up the juices that flowed from her vagina and begged for me to enter her. She tugged gently at my head to bring me back up her body, stopping to kiss her navel and suck each of her nipples again. At last, we were face to face and she licked her own fluids from my face.

“From all you’ve said, I think I’m a lesbian, too,” I whispered. She reached for my cock and lined it up with her opening. She slowly pulled it into herself.

“Yes,” she whispered. “But you have a nice long clitoris that can sink into my begging depths and fill me. Fill me. You fill me, Brian. I love you.” We rocked back and forth as I slipped in and out of her depths. Her legs came up and locked around my waist, pulling me even deeper into her. “Fill me,” she whispered. We were so keyed up by our foreplay that it only took moments in this position for my semen to rush to fill that void deep inside her and she peaked.

“I love you, my precious Girl Scout. I’m so glad to be your male lesbian lover.”

“Yes.”

We lay in each other’s arms, knowing this was only the first round for the night.

“I’m glad my mother has joined your parents as a family. She deserved a grandchild or a dozen.”

“And?”

“I won’t be giving them to her,” Jen sighed. “You know that with you reproducing and now trying to knock up Liz, all the girls in the casa are thinking about what it would be like to have a baby. I thought about it. Maybe it will change for me later in life, but I don’t think I’m cut out to be a breeder. I’ll love all the little kids in the clan, but I’m not going to add to them.”

“Jen, it’s never been a requirement on anyone to be a breeder. I hope that doesn’t mean we can’t keep practicing.”

“Silly boy. Of course not. What’s great is we can just keep fucking like bunnies and not worry about it,” she laughed. She started stroking my cock to see if she could get it back to readiness again. It wouldn’t take long. “Courtney, on the other hand…”

“What?”

“Courtney is not a lesbian. She’ll play with other girls. She loves me like I love you. But what she really wants is you. If all the rest of the clan, the television shows, and the tribe disappeared, she’d still be with you. Till death do us part,” Jen said.

“And you?” I asked.

“I love you, Brian. I love Courtney. I’m not going anywhere. I’m yours at least until my next orgasm!” she laughed. She kept stroking me to full hardness and then rolled over on top of me. “If you ever spank me again, though, make sure I really deserve it.”

Okay.

Monday morning an alert went out around the ranch that Sugar was in labor. Her mother, Regina, had been hanging out for two weeks with Casa del Sol. It was hot as blazes and I was glad that Lamar and Lionel had thought far enough ahead to have their home air conditioned.

Lionel had yet to report to a training camp for the NBA. He’d been a second round draft pick for the Miami Heat, but as soon as his contract had been signed, it was traded to the Timberwolves for a first round pick next year and an undisclosed amount of money. The Wolves had managed to get two guards from the Portland Trailblazers in exchange for Lionel’s contract. The Blazers had told him not to report because they were working on another deal. Lionel sat at home waiting to find out where he’d eventually report to and drawing against his $450,000 salary.

It was about two o’clock in the afternoon that I heard the bell ringing out in the middle of the yard. Judy and Dawn were out there and when we’d all poked our heads out of our houses or over the fence, as the case might be, Dawn made the announcement.

“Leann Dorie Trane, was born to Sugar and Lionel Trane at 1:37 this afternoon. Mother and daughter are both healthy and happy. Leann weighed six pounds, ten ounces and is twenty-one inches tall already!” We all cheered. Dawn and Judy went to the village square to repeat their announcement. I just loved our town crier system!

Classes started again on Monday the twenty-second. I was right back into the grind. There were a few differences this year. Hannah was in none of my classes. That sort of sucked. I was going to have to study this stuff alone. And it didn’t look easy. My books cost close to $300. I had three classes that met Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. The first was Cognitive and Emotional Psychology. While it was technically a psych class, it was taught in the Media Center. The professor was just about as weird as you could imagine a psychology professor to be. It’s frightening to think that the mental health of America is in the hands of psych majors! The second class was one I was looking forward to: Communication and Politics. I was anticipating that there would be a lot of political commentary in my show, as well as social commentary. This promised to examine both the theory and the practice. My third class was The Economics of Information. This was a class I was sure I could get something useful out of since it focused on the production, distribution, and pricing of intellectual property. We’d been winging it in that area so far.

The upside of all this was that I got out a little earlier in the evening since the classes were only an hour long. I could actually be home by six-thirty for a normal family meal. The down-side was that for the first time in a year, I had classes on Friday, so no more long weekends.

On Tuesday and Thursday, I had another class that met for a couple of hours and involved a lot of group analysis and discussion. It was called Business Strategies of Communication. It was pretty much all case studies of marketing and competitive strategies. Part of what I’d be doing in the near future would be setting the strategy for my show. It would be nice to get a better grounding in what we should be doing.

I came home Monday night from my first three classes with the usual pile of reading. Dr. Z, who was my advisor, was also the Economics of Information professor and had his own unique syllabus. He simply gave the list of books we needed to read and the order of the topics we would discuss. His comment was that we were grad students and could figure out which sections of the books were relevant for the day’s discussions. To say we were all pissed is an understatement. And by ‘all’, I mean the nine of us who were in his class. There were nowhere near as many people in class at this level as there were in the lower levels.

I was surprised when Rose curled up in my lap after dinner. Naked Rose on my naked lap.

“I know you have reading to do,” she started. With her naked boobs right by my lips. I latched onto a nipple and sucked. “Oh, yes!” She grabbed my head in her arms and locked me to her breast, barely giving me space to breathe. “I just love it when you suck on my nipples. Or Hannah. Or Sam. Or Josh. Or Pam. Oh! You just don’t know what that does to me.”

Well, I had a pretty good idea what it does to her because I could actually feel a droplet from her pussy drip onto my thigh. She pulled my head away from her breast with a pop and kissed me ferociously.

“We’ll make love tonight,” she said with finality. “Right now, I know you have reading to do. Why don’t you let me read your economics text while you read the others? I’m not sufficiently advanced in media to take the class, but I had enough in my management classes to understand economics. I’m only pursuing my MBA on a part time basis and have just one class this fall. This way, after you’ve read the economics text, we can have our own discussion group. I should understand this stuff if I’m going to be CEO of our business.”

“Yes,” I said. “I will make love to you tonight.”

“Oh, Brian! I love you. Now read and give me your other textbook.”

The first week was going to be spent with every waking hour buried in a book. And often in Rose.

2
Demonstration

I CUT CLASS ON FRIDAY. Janet Anderson had spent Thursday night with us and early Friday we drove into Indy to the airport. I was thankful that she had taken care of all our travel arrangements. We had hotel rooms for two nights and would fly back on Sunday evening. Saturday was Whitney’s graduation from boot camp at Parris Island, but Friday was family day.

Just a few more hours and I’d have her in my arms again.

We were met by a bus and transported to the base where we watched several demonstrations by the recruits. They had a five-mile run, in formation. Then they were dismissed to shower and reassemble for the parade while we had lunch served in the mess. We all went to the parade deck to watch our Marines march out and take formation in front of us. They were awesome. A sergeant said a few words and then dismissed the platoon. That was our cue to rush out onto the field and find our Marine. She wasn’t hard to spot. She stood nearly a head taller than the rest of the female Marines. I hugged Whitney and turned her loose so she could hug her mom. She looked so incredible in her tan dress blouse and dark green slacks. She wore a little pillbox hat with a bill in front. I could see my reflection in her shoes.

There were very few kisses being bestowed on the parade deck, so I restrained myself with just a light peck. I’m sure the picture we made looked like she was greeting a little brother.

We stood and talked. Mostly her mother just kept exclaiming how proud she was. I had to agree. Then Whitney took us over to the short line to meet her drill instructor. It was sort of formal at first as she made introductions and then we listened to the drill instructor praise the way Whitney had performed and how pleased he was that she would be going to officer candidate school.

“Sergeant Klaeffer,” Whitney said, “this is my master.” I looked at her, startled. That hardly sounded like something you would say to a Marine sergeant! Apparently, however, the sergeant knew what she was talking about.

“Ah. Sensei,” he said, bowing his head, slightly. “Recruit Anderson has represented you well and has been instrumental as assistant instructor in hand-to-hand combat. I confess, I expected someone a bit… older.” I glanced at Whitney and could see the pleading in her eyes. Now was not the time to deny anything.

“Sergeant, Recruit Anderson will represent the Marines well, too. We have discovered in our journey together that age is of little matter and that the roles of student and master may change frequently,” I said.

“Well said, sir. Perhaps you would consent to a demonstration this evening. The recruits are not released until after the ceremony tomorrow and I confess that there are quite a number who would like to see Recruit Anderson face an equal challenge. Would you be willing?” he asked. So that was why Whitney wanted me to bring both my working and formal gi. I had anticipated that she would want to spar tomorrow night. I had no idea she would want something earlier.

“I would be honored to find what my pupil can teach me after three months in your company,” I said.

“1900 hours, then,” he said. “I will have you escorted from the gate.” He turned to Janet. “I hope you will forgive us for snatching your escort away for the evening, Mrs. Anderson,” he said.

“Oh, I expected that I would be abandoned sooner or later,” she smiled. “I’ve seen the two of them develop for the past seventeen years. You will enjoy the display.”

I ate a quiet and light dinner with Whitney’s mother. She seemed amused.

“You know she is going to tear me a new one,” I grumped. I pushed my Caesar salad away, mostly uneaten. “They teach them to fight dirty here.”

“When have you ever fought according to the rules of some competition?” she laughed. “Or when has Whitney? Master Cho taught her to defend herself. It had nothing to do with competition.”

“Yes, but…”

“I heard that you took Coach Hancock in a match.”

“It was really a draw.”

“Not according to what he said. He said you pulled all your punches and simply touched him at will.”

“Well, I wasn’t going to go all out. He’s like fifty, you know.”

“If you take that attitude onto the mats with Whitney tonight, they will carry you out and she will feel ashamed.”

“What?”

“You’ve always sparred all out with Whitney. If you do less tonight, she will feel ashamed and lash out at you. The truth is, you have to defeat her.”

“I don’t understand. Won’t that humiliate her in front of her sergeant and fellow recruits?”

“Not as much as you letting her win.”

I felt silly showing up at the gate in my gi with nothing more than my ID and my slip-ons. Whitney and I never sparred in uniforms except when we demonstrated once at the high school. The recruit who escorted me to the gym could make two of me. I felt like a little shrimp again.

“A red belt, master?” the sergeant asked when he met me next to the mats.

“Our discipline does not use belts,” I explained. “Red is my house color.”

“I see. That explains Anderson’s reluctance to accept the black belt of an instructor.”

“My preference would be to shed the gi entirely,” I said. “As I believe hers would be.”

“Hmm. Let me think about that.” He led me to the mats and I stood patiently as Whitney approached from the other side. The sergeant went over to talk to her. Seated around the mats were over a hundred recruits.

“You sure are a little guy,” my escort said, standing beside me. “Are you sure you can take Andy?”

“No,” I said. “That’s why she’s a Marine and not me.” The guy chuckled.

“Good luck.”

“Thanks.”

“Recruits!” the sergeant shouted from the center of the mats. He even had stripes on the sleeve of his gi.

“Sir! Yes, sir!” came the response.

“For the past twelve weeks, you’ve been having your asses handed to you on a platter by Recruit Anderson. Is there anyone here who believes he or she has a chance to take Anderson to the mats in three falls?” There was silence. “That…” the sergeant pointed at me, “non-Marine is the man she calls her master. This might be the only chance any of you ever have to witness a little payback.” There were a few laughs at that and I could see that even though the sergeant ruled these guys with an iron hand, he wasn’t without a sense of humor. I was relieved. “I am informed that the normal discipline for these combatants does not use a gi. We will witness this as Marines without catcalls or other disrespect. Is that clear?”

“Sir. Yes, sir.”

“Recruit Anderson and Master Bri. You may approach this unarmed combat as you would normally spar. This will be a contest for two falls out of three. You will begin combat on my whistle and cease on my whistle. Is that clear?” Whitney barked out the Marine response. I simply bowed slightly. “Prepare for combat!” he snapped. I kicked out of my slip-ons and stripped off my belt and jacket. Whitney did the same thing. I thought she would stay at that, but she shimmied out of her trousers as well. I quickly stripped off and then challenged her by stripping out of my briefs. I stepped onto the mats naked. Whitney only hesitated for a moment before she shed her sports bra and white cotton panties. There was a palpable holding of breath around the mats. We both stepped up and bowed to each other. The sergeant’s whistle blew.

I’d done some warmups before I got to the base, but I was still stretching out some of my scar tissue when Whitney began an attack that was intended to take me out quickly. I was a rock, but the force of her blow set me back several feet. I caught my balance and landed erect. Then there was the whirling, punching, maddening dervish of Whitney Anderson raining down blows and kicks as I loosened up. She spotted the fact that I wasn’t quite limber and raised me off my feet with a kick to my chest and I hit the floor on my butt. I bounced back up, but the whistle blew. There were cheers. We backed off and bowed to each other. I took a deep breath and before it had completely cleared my lungs, the whistle blew and Whitney was on the attack again.

Only I wasn’t there. I’m sure that to the recruits it looked like her hand passed right through me. I remembered what it looked like the first time I saw Whitney punch Coach Hancock and he turned to water. I just flowed past her and then rolled under her when she swung with a roundhouse kick. It was game on and we were reading each other. Whitney’s style had changed in the past weeks to one that was more aggressive, like Coach Hancock’s. She was constantly on the attack and I was moving through and past her blows. It was like we were of one mind. I never felt this way except when I was sparring with Whitney.

Oh, blows were landed. I’m sure the strikes echoed in the gymnasium. I was thankful that I’d packed arnica cream in my suitcase, expecting that Whitney would want to spar when she got her leave the next day. I didn’t expect that I’d be going three rounds with her in the Marines’ gymnasium.

I saw her gather air and force it toward me, but I wasn’t where her blow was aimed. Instead, my arm connected with the back of her neck and she fell to the mat. The whistle blew. We stepped to the edge of the mat and bowed. The whistle blew again.

Whitney did not revert to our old styles. Instead, she became even more aggressive. If her fellow recruits had faced this over the past twelve weeks, it was no wonder they were looking for a surrogate victory. I knew what she was looking for and I wondered if she had found a defense. I waited. We exchanged blows and once I caught the sergeant out of the corner of my eye raising his whistle. He lowered it again. Our audience was attentive, breath held. Who was the master here? I was no longer certain. Whitney had always been my master until I had summoned fire when I faced Wayne Enders. There was no way that I was going to defeat my one-time master unless I could summon and control the fire within me.

We continued to rain blows upon each other. Whitney was beginning to wear me down. She was not holding back; was not pulling her punches. I saw the kick as it approached my head and intercepted it with a wall of fire.

Fire. It is not sheets of flame. Fire is the purest form of energy that we know. It consumes all matter that it touches and turns it into heat and light. An electrical spark is a type of fire. A forest conflagration is another type. I had fried Wayne Enders’ brain when I struck out at him. I understood that now. I accepted it. It had to be done. But fire was also the primeval defense against the wild things. They would not/could not approach. And this—this sheet of pure energy—the power of the universe—is what I placed between myself and Whitney. She struck it full force and fell.

She fell for an eternity. All the power she had placed into that kick was returned against her. I stepped around her and knelt beneath her as she fell, floating to the earth. I caught her head in my hands as she touched the mats and poured the life force she had expended back into her body.

I don’t know what the recruits had seen, or what they thought they saw. What I knew was that this was my precious beloved and I would not let her come to harm. I cushioned her fall and bent to kiss her lips.

Whitney coughed and sputtered as the whistle blew. There was silence in the Marine gymnasium. I stood and offered my hand to Whitney. She stood beside me. We turned and bowed to each other and then turned to retrieve our gis and put them on. The sergeant stepped to the center of the mats.

“Semper Fi!” he barked.

“Oorah!” the recruits answered.

“Dismissed!”

They marched in their tan and green across the parade ground. Each platoon was addressed by its drill instructor. The drill instructor walked down the row of recruits handing each one the eagle-globe-anchor pin and saying “Congratulations, Marine.” I stood next to Janet in my red house robes, looking different than most of the people there, though there were parents of Indian descent in their unique attire.

And I was so proud of her I could burst.

She came from her barracks in less formal attire, but still a Marine, with her stripe and her pin. She hugged us both and this time the kiss she gave me was not subdued.

“I have twenty-four hours of liberty before I have to be back to be shipped to Quantico,” she said. “Mom, I know you want to talk and we’ll have dinner at 1800 hours. That gives me two hours to go to the hotel and fuck my man into oblivion.”

And that was what we did.

I loved Whitney and caressed her. I spread arnica on her bruises. I sank into her depths with my cock and made love. We barely made it to dinner on time. I gave Whitney the dinnertime with her mother as I went to a different restaurant not far away and had the steak that I planned to have the night before. A number of young men and women paused at my table and nodded to me. They did not say anything. I nodded back and was filled with pride in every one of those young men and women who had just become Marines.

When I returned to my room, it was to find Whitney naked and waiting for me. I sincerely hoped she would get some sleep before reporting to officer candidate school in Quantico on Monday. We certainly didn’t get any Saturday night.

For my part, I was back at the studio Monday morning interviewing potential chefs for Young Cooking. I would have more and more guest chefs this fall. Eventually, I would select one—well, we would all select one—who would become the new chef for Young Cooking. By January it would no longer be my show.

“Darling, what do you want in a new chef?” I asked as Elaine cuddled in my arms after class Tuesday night. “Really, we need to consider this as the cooking segment of Chick Chat and not as Young Cooking with Chef Brian.”

“Oh. I don’t want to think of it that way. I always want it to be you,” Elaine moaned. She was gearing up for the beginning of the season on Labor Day. We had less than a week until production started again. It was clear that Dolly and Debbie could only step in occasionally now that the Heartthrob Café was open and expanding its business. It required at least one of the girls to be on duty each day. Dani was still a little shy about appearing on television with the scar on her jaw and the slight crispness it had given to her speech patterns. She would have plastic surgery soon to repair the scar damage on her face, but she still was a mother and only spent the breakfast hour at the café with Xan in a Snugli.

“Well, it really is your show, now,” I said. “Maybe we should drop the cooking segment completely. Or just have it, say, a couple times a week. Then you could have a fashion segment or something else on the other days.”

“That could work. Are you sure you just don’t want me to have another young chef around to seduce?” she giggled.

“What young chef did you ever seduce?” I asked. “Seems to me I was being pretty bold.”

“Yeah. The first thing I thought when you told me you were a freshman was ‘Am I going to jail?’ I actually looked up the laws to make sure dating you wasn’t the same as statutory rape,” she laughed.

“We survived it. I’ve been feeling so nostalgic lately. There are so many cool things that we used to do.”

“We still do cool things. Only now, after we do them, we actually have sex. With full penetration. And you come in my unprotected pussy. Over and over.”

“Unprotected?” I asked. Was she telling me something?

“You know. Without a condom. Don’t worry. I’m on birth control. It’s tempting, but with the show where it is, it would definitely be bad timing.”

“Elaine, my love, when the timing is right, you know I would be happy to be the father of your children. If you’ll still have me,” I said.

“Brian, from what I thought was a casual flirtation, I’ve grown to love you and to love all our hearthmates. I will love all your children by whichever mothers they come, and perhaps one day I will invite you into my truly unprotected sex to plant our baby there, too. But no time soon. I’m doing what I love and I still get to stay here at home with you. I was so afraid I would have to move to New York or LA. When I graduated, I was seriously considering giving up my career decision because I couldn’t stand the thought of leaving. But Hannah saved me. You saved me. I’m an actress and a star and I have my family and my love. What could be better?”

What, indeed?

3
Routine

ROUTINE IS A GREAT THING.

I’m serious. It seemed like the past four years, since moving to Corazón, our whole clan had been moving from one emergency to another. It might make for exciting reading, but I was getting pretty tired of it. I was nearly 23 years old and I had responsibilities. I had a business to manage. I had a community to care for. I had my cónyuge. And I had my children. For the most part, I just wanted to sit at home and play with the babies.

I often went to Casa del Agua early in the morning and made breakfast for my family there. Matthew was almost three years old and what a guy! It seemed he knew exactly which days I’d be there and came rushing out to meet me as soon as I started making breakfast. He was in a toddler bed now and had his own routines. He got up in the morning, took off his pull-up, and used the potty. Then he came into the kitchen, usually dragging a blanket and a stuffed animal with him.

“Up, Papa!” he’d demand. I’d scoop the little guy up and dance around the kitchen for a few minutes while he giggled. Then I’d plop him into his high chair with a glass of juice while I made food. The first time I made him scrambled eggs, he’d looked at them strangely. “Mimi!” he exclaimed. I had no idea what was up. Finally, through a series of signs and just pointing, I picked him up and walked over to the spice rack. He carefully selected a bottle of rosemary from the spice rack and proudly declared, “Mimi!” I sprinkled a bit on his eggs and he dug in. He used both his spoon and his fingers to shove the food in his mouth. Turned out that Doreen had been fixing him scrambled eggs and she always put rosemary in them. Everyone was shocked that he knew what and where the rosemary was. But best of all, when we were alone in the kitchen and he had his sippy cup and eggs, Matthew would look up and say, “Papa talk.”

I wondered exactly how much he understood of what I said, but I’d spent my mornings for ten years talking to Hannah early in the morning. It seemed like a natural extension to include Matthew in the conversation. Of course, not all the conversation I engaged in was particularly appropriate for the little boy, but he didn’t seem to mind whether I was talking to him or to Hannah.

Doreen, Doug, and Sandy were all up about the same time in the morning. Rhiannon didn’t have class until ten and often worked in her studio until late at night. Dor always brought my little C-Rae to me for morning slobbering. She was twenty-four weeks old now. Before long I was going to be given permission to start giving her age in months! I just loved the dickens out of that little girl.

Of course, I didn’t go over every morning. I had cónyuge in my house and another unbelievable baby girl. I just couldn’t get enough of Xan, nearly nine months old. And there was no telling which mother would be bringing her to the kitchen in the morning. All the women in the casa, and Josh, wanted to have time holding and cuddling our little girl. In the evening, I usually sat in my big chair to study with her cooking on my chest. Her little body pressed against mine would generate so much heat as she slept, I was sure we’d both be medium rare. Dani, Hannah, Samantha, Rose, even Nikki, would carefully cuddle with us for a while.

And most evenings, I left a little deposit in Liz, hoping that we’d start the next baby soon. I could tell when her second period started that she was getting a little worried. Her mother had set a pretty high expectation with twelve kids and had often warned Liz that all a boy would have to do was whisper the word ‘sperm’ near her pussy and she’d be pregnant. It wasn’t proving so easy. All we could do was keep trying.

By mid-September, the routine was well-enough established that it was time to start planning for the future. Chuck and Frankie arrived the eighteenth and moved into the second guest room. Angela was so seldom home during the same hours as everyone else, that they never conflicted in sharing a bath with her. I felt bad and thought I should give them the master suite, but they refused.

“This place is luxurious compared to where we’ve been camped the past month!” Frankie said. “There was running water in our cabin for doing dishes and washing up. The shower was outside hanging from a tree in the jungle. There was a composting toilet on the other side of the cabin.”

“Pee in the yard, poop in the bucket, our landlady said. We thought she was kidding until we got there,” Chuck laughed. “This one might take two chapters in our book!”

“You’re writing a book?” I asked.

“Might as well. We got a degree in it,” Frankie said. “We figured we might as well write something along the lines of ‘The Life of a Spoiled Trust Fund Baby.’ So far, all we’ve done is write in our journals each day while we try to come up with ideas for your show.”

“Well, I hope you’ve got better ideas than I do. We’re supposed to shoot the pilot in two weeks and I’m personally terrified.”

“Don’t sweat it, Brian,” Chuck said. “We’ve got your back on this one. I understand the first audience has been chosen.”

“We have the women of Beta House coming over. We promised them a little party and a donation to their chosen charity for their assistance,” Samantha said. She’d lined a second group up for two weeks later. We’d be filming the same show with two different audiences. With luck, we’d get one that was usable.

“I plan to go visit Beta House this week,” Frankie said. “We’re good with having the same guests on twice?”

“We’re working on it,” Sam said. “Through the miracles of Courtney’s new video editing software, we can actually splice things together if we need to. Joyce is still getting the hang of the non-linear editing, but she’s done some good stuff with Chick Chat this fall already.”

“Elaine had a guest she wanted at the end of the show who could only be here first thing,” April said. “We shot it completely out of order and Joyce put it back together the way we wanted it.”

“Cool. Let’s think themes and then talk about opening monologues.”

ELAINE: Hi, everybody. Oh, I know you! Thanks for coming to support our new production from Hearthstone Entertainment. We’re all really excited. I’m not normally going to be up here warming up Brian’s audiences, but it’s his first time and we don’t know yet if he’s going to be funny. [Laughter.]

How many of you had to beg off a hot date in order to come here tonight? Yeah. Me too. Did you have to give him a blowjob? Yeah. Me too.

You know that new gum they’ve got out that has a liquid burst of flavor in the center? I call that cum-gum.

“Oh, God. This is going to be terrible,” I said. “Listen to them.” I was in Stall One with Cassie listening over the loud speaker system while I waited to make my big entrance.

“They’re laughing like crazy. They’re ready to have a good time.”

“They’re laughing because she’s funny!” I complained. “They’ll hate me. I think I’m going to be sick.”

“Sit!” Cassie commanded and pointed at the chair I’d been pacing around. I sat. In an instant Cassie had my legs pried apart and was kneeling between them as she unfastened my trousers.

“Cassie?” I said. “I’m supposed to go on in a few minutes.”

“I might be new at the job of being your assistant, but I know my responsibilities. Hannah gave me very specific instructions. Now lean back and relax. I’ve got it under control.” She sure did. I mean, fuck! Cassie! She’d been practicing and I had images of Josh with his cock in her mouth. Well, that didn’t do anything for me. It was my cock in her mouth. However, she got this good, it was worth it. And I didn’t take long. I guess the pressure had really built up while I was waiting. I groaned. Cassie moaned. And choked a little, but she kept it from getting on my trousers.

“Oh, Cassie. I didn’t know this was part of your job,” I gasped.

“It isn’t,” she giggled. “It’s part of being your cónyuge. I love you, Brian. Now pull yourself together and let’s get on with the show.”

ME: Good evening. I’m Brian Frost. Welcome to XX/XY: The Man’s Show for Women. Boy does that sound strange. But if it was a man’s show for men, we’d spend the next hour just staring off into space in silence. Sometime along the line one of us would say something and then we’d all go home feeling like we’d had a great conversation. [Laughs.] I have forty young women from Beta House on the Indiana University campus with me to pilot our show.

So, are all of you single? How could I be so lucky? Maybe I’ll finally get a couple of answers to questions that I’ve always wondered about. Without being intentionally sexist, and while recognizing that there are a lot of different kinds of relationships that don’t involve a woman and a man pairing up, and that not everyone needs to be paired up to be happy, I’d like to know—not for myself, but a friend—how many of you want a boyfriend who is kind and loving? [Hands raise. Giggles.]

AND who respects and honors you? AND who is romantic? AND who is a great conversationalist and always listens when you are talking? AND who would guard and protect you from harm? AND who is a great lover who puts your needs first? AND who would be a wonderful father to your children? AND who is financially and emotionally secure? [Hands go up with each question until the women simply leave them up.]

That’s fair enough, I suppose. So, tell me honestly: Do you plan to replace your current boyfriend or just add a second? [Lots of laughs and several calls of ‘replace’ and ‘add.’]

How many of you even believe such a guy exists?

Well, there might not be enough of them for each of you to have your own. Are you willing to share with each other? [Gasp.]

I know. Just like a man. Why does life have to be so complicated? We should all be able to have what we want. But love is a two-way street with multiple intersections. I know guys like I’ve just described and I asked them what they wanted in a life mate. We’re going to talk about a few of those things on this show. Tonight, I have as my guests Karla MacDonald, author of the best-selling book Love Me Like I Am… [Applause.] NFL Rookie, Jerry Farmer… [Applause.] and questions from you, Beta House at Indiana University, our first stop for XX/XY!

My first show was underway.

4
Fine Tuning

“I SUCKED.”

“I’m pretty sure it was me who did the sucking,” Cassie laughed. “And you did not suck. They loved you.”

“They loved that we were giving them a party,” I said. “We can’t give a party for every audience. That’s like paying people to like you.”

“They knew and we knew that this was special,” Samantha said. “They were so impressed that you knew about their pledge competition to raise money for the Juvenile Diabetes Foundation. That is something we need to make sure we plug in every show. We need to know the group’s charity of choice and we should put a subtitle at the bottom of the screen that gives the address of where to donate. You’ve always had good luck getting people to contribute to a worthy cause since you did the talk show tour last summer.”

“They all filled out the surveys,” Sarah said. “I should have results tabulated tomorrow. I’m heading home now. I doubt we’ll need to keep surveying every audience, but I’ve got an idea that we might use for a weekly game. I’m too tired to talk about it tonight. ’Night-night.”

We wrapped things up and headed home. It was nearly eleven o’clock. I walked in the door and stripped. Even Chuck and Frankie peeled out of their clothes in the entry. I walked into the family room and found Dani nursing Xan in my big chair.

“Just who we needed to see,” Dani smiled. “Baby is all milky and needs Papa to dance with her.” Hannah went to the CD player and put on KD Lang’s Absolute Torch and Twang.

“Isn’t that a little lively for this time of night?” I asked.

“She loves it. Dance with her.”

I tossed a burp cloth over my shoulder and put Xan against it. We started two-stepping around the family room to the sound of “Full Moon Full of Love.” She had a big burp, but not much milk came up. In five more minutes, she was asleep in my arms.

Sarah had some good ideas. We’d try a game while the audience was being warmed up. I wasn’t sure about the whole warm-up concept yet. Sure, it was great to have Elaine the first night. The audience would have come just to see her. But how would we arrange an improv comic for every show? Elaine’s afternoon performances just didn’t seem to require anyone to talk to the audience before she came on. Warren would play some music and people would start feeling good, then he’d segue into Elaine’s theme song, and poof! She’d walk out on stage and rock the house. My music was definitely pre-recorded, though Warren was working on getting us a good theme developed.

“So, what we do is pass out a little quiz to the audience before the show,” Sarah said at our staff meeting on Tuesday. “We organize it like a game segment. You have a contestant from the audience try to guess what the audience answered to a half dozen questions. Not only will the crowd have fun, but we’ll get some pretty valuable audience profile information from every show.”

“Does that mean I need a writer with me for every show?” I asked.

“You can handle that,” Frankie said. “It’s not like you need lines to go with the questions. You’ll find something funny about whatever is answered.”

“I think when we get it rolling, though, we should collect a week’s worth of answers and then have the contestants on just the Friday show. That would give a target for people to watch and would also make it more difficult for the audience to share answers around,” Chuck said.

“I like that,” Sam said. “We need a few show features that differentiate XX/XY from other shows. Like Carson had Carnac and Letterman has the Top Ten.” Sam shifted uncomfortably in her chair and took a deep breath.

“We need to work on the opening monologues,” April said. “I don’t want to copy the camerawork we do on Chick Chat because then we’d start having a Hearthstone Style and I don’t think we want that. Elaine’s asides are uniquely hers. But I don’t want Brian to look like a statue up there either. I hate the fixed camera position concept. I’ve got half a notion to film the whole monologue from behind him and focus on the audience instead of Brian.”

“That’s fine with me.”

“I think we can develop something that isn’t quite so drastic,” Frankie said. “I’d like to consult with Nikki on our style.”

“You can bet April and I are talking to Hannah,” Sam laughed. “It’s great that we have mentors right here where we can talk to them.” She stretched again. “Let’s wrap this up and do what we need to in smaller groups. Next week is midterms and I know Brian has studying to do.”

“Sweetheart, are you okay?” I asked, catching up with Sam at the back door.

“Yeah,” she sighed. “Apparently, a side benefit of having my shoulder blown to bits is that I can predict the weather now. My shoulder is a little inflamed.”

“You should see your doctor.”

“My next appointment is in eight days. I think I can stand it that long. I’m just thankful I can lift my hand above my waist. It’s just that every once in a while, I don’t get it where I intend and I smack someone in the balls or a boob,” she laughed. “How about you? Do you have any residual pain like that?”

“A little. Mostly my physical pain goes away after I work out in the morning. Let’s go upstairs and I’ll rub an analgesic on your shoulder.”

“Why don’t we go upstairs and you can smear slippery fluids around on me where it will do the most good?”

“I love you, Samantha.”

“Good. We should have just enough time before you have to leave for class.”

“September 26, 1960,” Professor Nelson said. “That is the date that television changed the face of American politics.” I really enjoyed the Communication and Politics class. And Professor Nelson made the class interesting. He had tons of historical documents that he brought to class, even though some of them were framed and carefully displayed. Like the Chicago Daily Tribune that announced Dewey’s election victory over Truman.

“John F. Kennedy spent the day sunning on the roof of his Chicago hotel and reviewing his notecards with his aide and speech writer, Ted Sorensen. Nixon studied, too. But he was exhausted. He’d just gotten out of the hospital and was thin and pale. That night, the two of them went head-to-head in the first nationally televised presidential debate. In ten years, the number of households with television in America had gone from eleven percent to eighty-eight percent,” Professor Nelson said. “The attractive, fit, and articulate Kennedy looked like the leader of the nation. Nixon looked like a zombie. Those who only listened to the debate on the radio thought Nixon had clearly won. But close to seventy-five million who watched on television were turned to Kennedy.”

The lecture continued and Professor Nelson actually played a tape of a portion of the debate. Wow! I thought of the various politicians Elaine had interviewed on her show. Were people swayed to vote by what they saw?

“The burning question is, ‘Can the national media be trusted with the outcome of American politics?’ You will be part of the answer to that question.”

My twenty-third birthday was on Wednesday. It was just our casa celebrating and I intended to take Liz to bed for the night. She looked at me with the sparkle of a tear in her eye and shook her head.

“My period started today.”

That was that. She still wasn’t pregnant. Of course, I was surrounded by willing partners, but I elected to just hold and kiss my lovers and not have sex. Seeing Liz so sad just made me want to wait.

Those of us in school all relished the fall break on Friday and the younger clan members, most of whom were juniors, wanted a fire that night. It had been a great day with temperatures jumping up to near eighty, so we quickly agreed. I thought it would be a pretty lowkey celebration, but I didn’t count on our younger clan members. I think TK started it, but soon after the sun was down at six-thirty, people started getting naked. Well, it’s hard to stay clothed when you have TK, Judy, Susan, Pam, Nancy, and Addison dancing naked around the fire. It wasn’t long before everyone was naked, including Robyn, who was about ready to pop out her baby. I saw naked men and women that I’d seldom seen before. Theresa, Dawn, and Larry, along with both their kids. Sarah, Sugar, and Lamar. Unfortunately, Lionel had finally been shipped to start practice with the Bucs. Sugar planned to stay here until she knew where they were going to move to. It was funny to watch Leann try to keep hold of a nipple as Sugar danced with the rest of us.

I won’t say there were no little rubs and playing going on, either. Even Dawn got in the act when she backed up into me as we were dancing and made sure I had an erection pointing straight up between her cheeks. About nine, I was ready to go in, but TK grabbed my hand and for the first time in a long time, I did a dorm crawl. It was also the first time that it seemed like everyone wanted a full insertion, including Addison and April. The only ones of the girls that just wanted to be held and petted were Nancy and Susan. They whispered that they were both still virgins, but had no qualms at all about having me finger them to a very satisfying climax.

5
Second Time

I HAD EXAMS on Monday, Wednesday, and Thursday during my normal class times. Realizing we’d all take off anyway, my professors kindly let us off for Friday. I was glad since I’d be prepping for my second try at a pilot for the show. I wouldn’t have gone to class regardless.

I didn’t need a blowjob to calm down this time, but I got one anyway.

Jerry and I had both read Karla MacDonald’s book, Love Me Like I Am, so when she came out gunning for me this time, I was ready. Guess we’d all learned something. We’d been through a taping with each other. Karla learned what I was going to say about what guys want in a woman. She’d learned Jerry’s stance of how a guy should act, based on the agreement he’d abided by. I’d learned that both of them had weak points in their arguments, which made me re-examine some of my own points in light of the way Jerry understood them. The result was explosive!

KARLA: If men simply paid attention, there would be no need for any of this explicit permission nonsense. Why should a woman explicitly give permission for a kiss or to touch her breasts? It’s embarrassing. An attentive man would know.

JERRY: But if we misread that, you want to reserve the right to be offended, or even to press charges.

KARLA: Of course! We’re women. We have to be able to defend ourselves.

ME: Let’s look at this idea of embarrassment. [Walk into audience with mike.] Hi. What’s your name?

WOMAN: Jane.

ME: Jane, what do you think about the embarrassment situation? Would you prefer to simply fend off clueless guys or tell them exactly what you want and are willing to do?

JANE: It might make for some short dates if we told them what they could do at the outset. It seems like guys need to probe… so to speak.

ME: But embarrassed?

JANE: Maybe a little. But if I’m going to let a guy take my bra off, what’s to be embarrassed about telling him he can?

ME: Thank you, Jane.

KARLA: It’s demeaning.

ME: I want to tell you all from experience… in fact, I’m going to ask my producer to join me for a minute, because she is the first person I ever heard these words from. [Sam joins me in front of the camera. She’s blushing a little, but game.] I was fifteen years old. All I knew flew out the window when my hormones kicked in. Say the word ‘girl’ and I was hard. But I have to tell you that Samantha said the sexiest thing to me that I have ever heard when we were out on a date. Do you remember what it was, love? [Nods. Microphone in front of her mouth.]

SAMANTHA: I said, “Brian, I give you explicit permission to kiss me and touch me anywhere above my waist. Inside or outside my clothes.” [Leans up to give me a kiss.]

ME: Bar none! The absolute sexiest words I’ve ever heard.

SAMANTHA: Possibly the most exciting thing I’ve ever said. I’ll say it again later, darling. [Exits.]

We continued to argue… or discuss the issue and Karla admitted that it had been pretty damned sexy. We also emphasized that a guy had to be honorable and stick to the agreement. Hands inside a shirt did not equate to fucking. We didn’t end up killing each other and the audience loved the interactions. The sum total was a show that was killer.

“Are you ready to make a choice?” Hannah asked as we met on Sunday afternoon.

“I don’t think it’s my decision,” I said. “This is really going to be part of Elaine’s gig. Who did you like best?”

“Not good enough, honey,” Elaine said. “You’ve worked with them. They’ve been in the prep area and on the set with you. They’ve each guest-hosted a show. And it’s you being replaced. Who carries the flag better than anyone else?”

“Oh, crap.” I’d had a different ‘assistant’ on the show each week since we resumed on Labor Day. The assistant would work with me for four days and then guest-host on Friday. Six of the twenty or so people we’d interviewed had been selected as candidates and were paid for their participation—two men and four women. There just weren’t that many men who were able to fill the bill. And I didn’t really like any of them. For the most part, I thought they’d all make great chefs. But they were conceited little pricks. “Okay. If it were a perfect world, I’d choose Reese Mendenhall. She’s cute. She’s talented. She has a great camera presence. She worked well with Mary and the triplets. She’d be a good complement to Elaine.”

“Great. I agree,” Elaine said.

“I knew you’d choose her,” Hannah smiled. “She’s so cute!”

“Wait, wait, wait! I think we have to go with Beth Winston.”

“What? Why? I mean she was pretty good, but nothing like Reese,” Elaine said.

“Because Reese is still in high school and she’s only seventeen. We can’t ask her to drop out. And I think Indiana has a law that says you have to stay in school until you’re eighteen. How is she supposed to tape a show every morning? We just can’t put that kind of pressure on a kid,” I said.

“Oh, Brian. I love you so much,” Hannah said. “Of course, you are right. We can’t put that kind of pressure on a kid. Except…”

“Except what?”

“She’s going to graduate at the end of the semester, which is only two weeks into the new year. She’s that smart and ahead of her class.”

“But she’s still only seventeen.”

“The law actually states ‘until eighteen or high school graduation.’ Can you imagine if I’d had to stay in school for another month after we graduated because I wasn’t eighteen yet? We vetted the ability to serve for all candidates before we brought them in to audition with you,” Hannah said.

“Crap! You could have told me that. You’d already chosen her.”

“If your first choice had been one of the others, we’d have reconsidered,” Hannah said. “We needed to hear you say that she was your first choice.”

“Sometimes I feel…” I let it slide. What did I really have to complain about?

“…like a motherless child,” Elaine sang. We all broke out laughing.

“We need to cover her first two weeks of the new season,” Hannah said.

“I can probably do it. We don’t have a distribution contract yet. I’m fresh out of ideas. I’ll get replaced on Young Cooking and have the rest of the semester to write my thesis.”

“Something will come,” Hannah said. “Sam and Rose are working on it.”

Nominally, I was the Executive Producer and should have been working on it. But this last term of grad school was kicking my butt. I’d already shifted my program so that I would get the MS in Telecommunications and then come back for an MBA separately instead of doing them jointly. Otherwise, I’d be in classes again next term.

My thesis proposal and abstract were on Dr. Z’s desk awaiting approval. When I changed my program, he had to work on getting me a new committee as well.

Normally, I had three hours between when I was cleaned up after the show in the morning and when I had to leave for class. But Tuesday, my class was canceled. Wish I’d known that before I drove to campus, but I turned right around and headed back to the ranch. I found Jennifer, Hannah, Samantha, and Rose all in Stall One. It was getting crowded. Louise had taken the accounting over to her house. Courtney had connected her computer to the business network.

“Brian!” Rose said. “Just who we need. Why aren’t you in class?”

“Canceled.”

“Good. I think we have distribution, and if it goes well, we have sponsorship, as well.”

“Whoa! That’s great! Tell me about it,” I said. This was really good news. I hadn’t heard anything about a solid lead.

“It’s happening pretty fast,” Rose said. “I’m so thankful Hannah and Samantha have been here to help me get through it. Armand Lockhurst called. Not one of his flunkies, but the man himself.” It took me a minute to remember who the hell Armand Lockhurst was. Oh, yeah. The dude who owned the majority of the holding company that owned the Star. I guess as stockholders, we were sort of partners with him.

“Oh. Him. What did he want?” I asked. I wasn’t all that enthused about the relationship, but Art had convinced us that owning shares in his company was a good thing. It was part of the settlement against Chase Sanborn. After his armed assault on us last spring, Sanborn wasn’t going to be out of extended psychiatric care for a long time.

“He was a little upset. Said he understood we were shopping a show around and wanted to know why he hadn’t had an opportunity to bid for it.”

“What’s he going to do with it? It’s a television show.”

“Lockhurst Media Company has acquired a cable station and has distribution on all the major cable providers. Unfortunately, they have a dearth of programming. You saw what it was like for those specialty stations when we were in LA.”

“Right. So, he wants us to provide programming. Do we even match his demographic?” I asked. We needed Sarah.

“It looks good. Rae-Rae is really appealing to an older women’s audience. LWN is all over the place, but in spite of being a women’s network, they’re more like Cosmo than Seventeen,” Rose said. We’d started comparing audience profiles to popular women’s magazines. Elaine was definitely in the Cosmo category. Redress was in the Seventeen category. The plan for XX/XY was that we would be more targeted to ‘emerging women.’ We hadn’t actually found a good magazine to compare it to. “Celebrity Entertainment Network targets the younger female market with lots of stories about young stars. You’d be surprised at the way the Star has started to reshape its content toward that market, as well. The stories are a little gentler, trying to focus on the success and romance of young stars rather than the scandal of those who have fallen.”

“That sounds great, but you saw how those vultures were in LA. They want everything for nothing. They have nothing to offer,” I said. I was being argumentative, but Rose was driving and I knew she had something cooking or she wouldn’t have even brought it up to me. She sighed.

“Lockhurst wants an evening show to anchor his station. Nine p.m. Just when school girls and college girls are settling in to study and get ready for bed. Just like we always did. Jennifer has been on campus for the past week interviewing in the sororities. It was partly to find out their prime viewing time and partly to line up audiences for our IU weeks. Anyway, most sorority girls are in by nine on week nights, even though frats tend to stay out until eleven. But the frat guys don’t turn on television when they get back to the house unless there’s a ballgame on. The sororities do.”

“Wow. We have all that information?”

“Sarah’s been busy, too. We’ll get a final report from her next week.”

“So Lockhurst wants us to provide entertainment for his station and believes we’ll profit from our share in the company?”

“Just what I thought. In fact, that’s where he started,” Rose said. “He didn’t last long there.” She blew on her brightly polished fingernails and polished them on her right boob. I laughed. “He wants to pay us to produce the show exclusively for his station. Locked down, no-cancellation contract.”

“No one makes a non-cancellable contract,” I said.

“He really wants in our panties.”

“No!”

“I mean that figuratively. He wants a foothold in Hearthstone Entertainment. And I don’t think that’s a bad thing. Brian, he’s got more money than God. His vision is that we become the production arm for CEN. I had to hold him back or he’d have been building a new studio for us.”

“Wait! CEN? Isn’t that the station…?”

“The station we gave an exclusive to for their Late Night program with Roslyn Knightly,” Rose completed for me. “This is it, darling. We’re ready to join the big time.”

Shit!

6
Birthday Surprise

JOSH AND I took Cassie and Mary into Indianapolis Friday night to celebrate Mary’s twenty-second birthday. So much of our lives was focused on the ranch that we didn’t go out often. It was a major production to take the casa to dinner someplace. Much easier to just cook at home. Josh and I had a few minutes to talk last weekend and decided we needed to treat our women to more outings. After all, the original intent of the agreement was so we could be free to date.

Josh and Cassie had been putting off the idea of getting married, too. Cassie wore her engagement ring, but never mentioned planning a date. When I asked Josh, he said vaguely, “After I finish school.” At the rate he was having to attend at night while working in the daytime, that could take years.

We had a nice table and were seated immediately by the maître d’. A waiter immediately brought a tray of appetizers, compliments of the chef. We ordered a bottle of champagne. Josh was the designated driver tonight, so I planned to fully relax and enjoy myself. He was in for a surprise, though. Soon after we’d been seated, the chef came to our table. That was a little unusual.

“Chef Brian, I am honored to have you dine with us this evening,” the chef said. I smiled and shook his hand. “I am Chef Paul. It would be my pleasure to prepare an assortment of house specialties for your party this evening. Is there a special occasion?”

“Chef Paul, what a pleasure,” I said. “We’ve heard about the reputation of Le Palais and simply had to sample your art. We would be delighted to enjoy whatever you deem fit to prepare. This evening we are celebrating our cónyuge Mary’s twenty-second birthday.”

“Splendid!” he said. “I would not presume to guess your appetites. Would you like a light meal, as if you were going to the theatre? A pleasant family dinner? A feast?”

“We would like a leisurely and companionable dinner from which we can walk away sated but not bloated. While theatre is not on our agenda, we may go dancing and would not wish to be unable to move. Thank you for inquiring as to our desires before simply presenting dishes. It shows already how Le Palais has earned its reputation and you yours,” I said. I looked at him and his mouth twitched. Josh, Cassie, and Mary were simply staring at us with their mouths open. We couldn’t hold it together any longer. Both Paul and I burst out laughing. I stood up and hugged him as he slapped my back.

“What?” Mary said.

“Mary, Cassie, and Josh, I’d like you to meet Paul Moreau, Chef here at Le Palais. Paul and I met back at the Tally Ho when I was doing my internship.”

“I am delighted, ladies and gentlemen,” Paul said. “The one dish I will not serve this evening is Chateau Brian. But I think I have enough other items in my repertoire that I can satisfy your appetites. Enjoy your hors d’oeuvres and champagne. On the table, you will find amuse bouche of escargot en croute. This will be followed by Coquilles St. Jacques, which are gratineed scallops. Relax and enjoy at the leisurely pace you wish. When you are ready, we will serve a light Waldorf-style salad with buttermilk dressing. For your entrée this evening, I will be delighted to prepare Blanquette de Veau, this veal dish is served in cream sauce with carrots, pearl onions, and rice. I highly recommend sampling our Macon Pouilly Fuisse with this dish. Finally, to celebrate the mademoiselle’s birthday, we will conclude with poire belle Helene and espresso. Will this be satisfactory, Chef Brian?”

“We are in your hands, Chef Paul. Thank you for making this special occasion even more special,” I said. He turned and left.

“Did you set this up in advance?” Mary asked. “Look at this room. No one else has had the chef come to their table and suggest an entire menu to them!”

“Paul told me once that when I was ready to sample true continental cuisine, I should look him up. When I discovered he was here, I made the reservation and asked that they tell Chef Paul that Chef Brian was joining him for dinner with a small party and would like to see what true continental cuisine is. He took it from there,” I laughed. We raised our champagne glasses in a toast and started sampling the cheeses. I reminded everyone not to fill up on the delicious French bread!

“What was this about dancing?” Mary asked as we received the main course and our bottle of wine.

“I just thought that with the four of us together, we should take the opportunity to celebrate as completely as we can,” I said. “Josh, go ahead and have a glass of wine. You won’t be driving tonight.”

“I won’t?”

“It seems to me that we owe our cónyuge a full night of attention instead of a few hours. We’ve got a room at the new Sheraton. I hope you all don’t mind, but I’m afraid all they had was a room with one king bed.”

“We didn’t bring any of our personal overnight things with us!” Cassie said. “We might have to go naked!”

“That would be fine, but Rose also packed a small bag with fresh clothes for each of us to put on in the morning with our personal toiletries,” I said. “I’m pretty sure, however, that she forgot to pack your nightgowns.”

“I hope so!” Mary said giggling. “I never thought I’d be able to eat veal, but this is so scrumptious.”

We enjoyed the rest of the meal and went to the hotel, stopping at the car long enough to pick up the bag Rose had packed for us. The meal was close to $300, but it was worth it just to see my cónyuge enjoying Mary’s birthday. The king suite in the Sheraton was great, but I dragged them all back out of it before they could start undressing.

“I promised dancing!” I said. The hotel had a lounge and live music on Friday night. We were able to get a table and order nightcaps before Josh and I were dragged out on the dance floor. We had a blast, and when we got back to our room, we continued to dance. But much more slowly and with no clothes.

“Bri, what’s my share of the expenses for last night?” Josh asked me after we’d returned to the ranch. “I’m not complaining. Whatever it cost, it was worth it. I just have to budget my income carefully. My car really needs to be replaced and I’ve got insurance to cover, as well.” I put my arm over Josh’s shoulders, which was a bit of a strain since he’s five inches taller than me. I guided him out to the silo. When I stepped inside, I started undressing to do my forms.

“Josh, you and I share a family. You take care of Mary and Cassie much more and much better than I do. I just got the numbers for how much I’m going to make from my new show. It’s obscene. If I can’t spend it on the people I love, there’s no reason to have it. Don’t take on expenses you can’t afford, my friend.”

“I feel bad about it. I don’t want to be a leech.”

“Ha! What are you being paid to help Samantha with the physical therapy on her shoulder every day? How much did I pay you last summer to help me with my physical rehab? How many massages did you give me? How much time did you spend with Whitney when she was injured? Josh, think back. Even in high school, you were the only one who understood the physical therapy Hannah was going through and could help her,” I said. “That’s not being a leech. I don’t contribute half what you do for our family. Let me do the little I can with money.”

“You’re something else, Brian,” Josh laughed as I began my forms. “No wonder we all love you.” If he said anything else, it was lost on me as I sank into the sacred space.

The money really was obscene. I was to be paid $1,000 per episode of XX/XY. The first twelve weeks we were live, I’d earn $60,000. Maybe that wasn’t in the league of what Lionel was making in the NBA, but the only other person who equaled that was Elaine. And those were our salaries. We still shared in the ownership of the programs and residuals.

It would be easy to get lost in thinking we were worth all that.

Lionel had actually helped get my head straight. He’d played two exhibition games with the Bucs and was traded to Charlotte in a four-way deal that was hard to understand. He was home for the weekend of Halloween on his way between the two.

“Brian, they don’t pay us what we’re worth,” he said.

“Choo-Choo, they pay us much more than we’re worth,” I said, using the high school nickname.

“Exactly,” he agreed. “The money thing is what the owners use to keep track of the score. The score isn’t who wins or loses a ballgame. It’s who makes the most money. In this last trade, the Bucs ended up with the point guard they’ve spent three months maneuvering for. It’s taken that long to get a deal in place that would result in what they wanted. That guard could have cost them a bundle. I mean to get his contract, not his salary, which is about four times what mine is. By manipulating the four-way trade, all they had to pay was me. That made me worth a whole lot more in the eyes of the Hornets. They actually say I’m going to get some court time.”

“I guess we learned a bit about that in our creative management course,” I admitted. “The talent is an asset and has a value. That value isn’t how much we pay them, but how much we can make from them. So technically, Elaine and I make the same amount, five grand a week. The difference is that I do five shows a week and she does three. And the company makes more off her in the long run because she’s been on the air longer.”

“Now you are getting the idea,” Lionel said. “We’re chits in a game that isn’t played on the court. We want to be the most valuable chit on the table. But our big problem—and I’m seeing this with the players I meet all the time—is that the player starts figuring that if he’s worth a million in table chits, then he should get paid a million. But that drops his value as an asset because he costs too much to maintain. You’ve got to never believe that you are actually worth what they pay you. Just take the money and plan for the future when there won’t be any.”

“How’d you get so smart about this stuff so fast, Lionel?”

“My brother’s been pounding it into my head from the first time we walked onto the court together. I’m not the smartest one in the family by a long shot.”

Hannah and I sat in the meeting with Reese’s principal. We looked like an ordinary young couple. Dani had pushed Xan into my arms and told me she needed to go work with her sisters in the café to start preparing for Thanksgiving. I happily took the baby to the high school with me. Of course, Hannah had to have baby time as well, but as the producer, she was the main negotiator with the principal.

Reese and her father were at the meeting, as well. The whole purpose was to get her released from class one day a week until the end of the semester so she could be on set as guest chef. I was reminded of the trades Lionel had described where the talent were chits on the table. The negotiations were three-way. There was getting the school to release Reese. In order to do that, her father had to agree to her new schedule. Before he would do that, he had to agree to the terms of her contract with Hearthstone. Hearthstone couldn’t sign a contract until we knew she was released from school.

Reese and I pushed back away from the group and she made little cooing noises at Xan who responded with giggles.

“This all hinges on one thing, Reese,” I whispered. “Do you want to be the new chef for Young Cooking? It’s a great gig, but don’t let anyone kid you about how much work it is. It’s tough.”

“You’ve done it since you were sixteen, haven’t you?”

“Yes, but I started with one fifteen-minute segment a week. We’d film two of them every Saturday until basketball season so I could play ball. It was a different world back then. Now it’s twenty minutes daily plus research and prep time. It’s a full-time job,” I said.

“I don’t have the advantage of having, like, fifty boyfriends like you had girlfriends,” she giggled. “But I love to cook and I love to perform. I can’t think of a better job for me. And the amount of income will help me start college. My dad’s smart and will protect my interests, but we aren’t rich. I’d have had to work for a couple years before I start college at any rate. Now I can imagine going to an actual culinary arts school. I’ve attended classes at the school in Bloomington. It’s what I want to do with my life.”

“Hannah will make it happen. Trust your director. You’ll become a star.”

When the meeting was over, she was on her way.

7
Replacement

REESE SHOWED UP FRIDAY and slid into her role as guest chef smoothly and easily. It turned out that the principal was pretty enthused that two of his graduates were doing gigs for Hearthstone Entertainment. Even though Amber had only been at West Monroe for one year and had hardly known anyone, being Elaine’s regular guest host was not lost on him. He immediately contacted Rose to discuss possible internships either during the summer or as work release when classes started again in the fall.

One of our goals had always been to give something back to the community and being able to provide some sort of work experience for kids in the community was one way to give back. We’d tried to include and influence younger kids in our productions and even though we were targeted toward upper teen and early twenties, generally speaking, Elaine’s content was acceptable for younger kids. We were going out over broadcast airwaves, after all. We’d had Job’s Daughters and DeMolay, 4-H Food groups, high school honor societies, Young Rotarians, and such on the show as guests and audiences. That got me thinking. I walked into Stall One and asked everyone generally:

“Say. If I wanted to look up a specific episode of Young Cooking and knew who the guests were, how would I get the video tape so I could watch it?” The room went quiet.

“Database,” Jen said. “If it’s too long ago, it’s on the Macs and Courtney might have to get a backup disk out. All the shows from the first summer camp on are in the general database.” I had to think.

“I believe the episode I want is from the first summer camp,” I said. “I should sit down sometime and just watch them all.”

“Now that would be a cooking marathon,” Hannah laughed. “You’ve logged over 600 episodes. There have been 300 since we went live last fall.”

“Crap! How can people stand listening to me or watching me that long?”

“You’re cute,” Sam said.

“Well-hung,” Louise confirmed.

“You can’t see that on the tapes!” I said.

“No. We can just dream about it,” she giggled. Oh, crap! It was getting close to Brenda’s birthday. Louise always got a little squirrely when we headed toward that celebration.

“So where is this mysterious database and how can I search it? And where do I find the tape when I figure out which one I want?” I asked.

“Courtney,” Jen answered. “It’s Saturday. She’s probably in the computer room in the house with Bea Clinton. Bea’s been maintaining the database.”

“Don’t we run around naked on Saturday?” I asked.

“Bea leaves by the front door and doesn’t come into the rest of the house unless invited. Just put clothes on before you go into the computer room.”

Right.

“So, what episode do you want to see?” Courtney asked. Bea was, indeed, sitting at a computer entering data from this week’s production schedule.

“I’d like to get the one we did during summer two or three years ago in which we had the local 4-H Foods groups in.”

“Hmm. I think if we just search 4-H we’ll narrow the field down enough to scan through each record. We do at least one 4-H group every summer. It would be better if we knew the name of someone in the group or the exact name of the club. Let’s see what I can find.”

Courtney tried a couple different searches and then jumped.

“This is it. July 29. It’s the episode you did with Miss Polly and the Scarlet Tanagers 4-H Foods Club.”

“That’s right. We did our first combined Chick Chat/Young Cooking show that day. Where’s the tape?” I asked. Courtney scowled at me.

“You actually want the tape?”

“Yes. Why? What’s the big deal?”

“Do you have any idea how many video cassettes we have down there?” Courtney asked. Bea giggled.

“I don’t even know where ‘down there’ is,” I said. “Don’t we just keep the old tapes in one of our fireproof files?”

“We have a fireproof room for them,” Courtney sighed. “Come on.” She led me to the basement. It’s not like I’ve never been in the basement. That’s where our laundry room, the utilities, our canned goods pantry, and the big workout room are. We had a couple of spare rooms down there, too. Courtney took me to a spare room.

“Holy shit!” I whispered. “What is all this stuff?”

“This is the archive,” Courtney said. “We have been producing shows in our studio for four years. Close to fifteen hundred episodes when you include Redress. And don’t forget the birth special, the home building special, the contract documentary, and the little side productions that people are constantly throwing together like the ranch tour for CEN. Each episode is a tape in the collection. In addition to that, with multiple cameras and editing, we shoot an average of six hours of tape per half-hour completed unit. That brings us to something in the vicinity of 24,000 hours of video tape that is stored in this room. We’re running out of space already. With the addition of your new show this winter, I project we will have no more storage room in the vault by midsummer. Rose has already talked to Ron about building out the rest of the basement. He fireproofed this room two years ago when we ran out of room over in the studio.”

That was a preview of Heaven's Gate. To read the rest purchase the book.

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