Chapter 7

We all know that hindsight is 20-20. Even when we have carefully analyzed any plan of action, our course and our choices take on a diferent look through the lens of retrospection. But that Friday morning I wasn't concerned about hindsight. Not in the least.

I had glimpsed the videotape of my upcoming week in fast-forward and either didn't see or didn't care about some of the details that whizzed past. All I saw were two good-looking young guys who wanted access to my body for a while. One, Randy, was still a mystery of sorts, but I got the impression that he wanted to be more than just friends. The other, Kevin, wanted to feel safe with me while he tried to figure himself out.

Lurking way back in the back of my mind, right about where the subconscious begins, was the thought that, for any number of reasons, either or--God forbid!--both of them could decide to leave me in the lurch. I'd dodge that bullet when the time came if I had to. After all, I had been alone when all this started, but in the meantime I planned on having as much fun as possible.

I didn't have the time or the inclination to confer with my friends. To my mind, this wasn't a matter for a committee meeting, and I already knew what they would say anyway. Hank, of course, would tell me to go for it full speed ahead. Mike would urge caution and tact, and he would tell me that he'd be there for me if things didn't work out. Nick would say I had a death wish, that I wouldn't be able to keep up with two young bucks like these.

Well, I was tired of caution. I had let caution, propriety and "what other people think" rule my life for the past 20 years. This week was turning into a real rollercoaster ride, and I was enjoying the hell out of it even though I didn't feel like I was in control at all. But then, you don't have any control over a rollercoaster anyway. This might be my last chance to go off the deep end. I wasn't going to pass it up. And as for the death wish, I could think of worse ways to go.

The first thing to do was to clear the decks for action. While one computer was accessing my printer's website to update my pending jobs, I was finishing off the Bender job on the big computer. Like I said, it was a piece of cake. Nothing to do now but wait for 250 copies to finish printing. The job would be ready and waiting for her when she showed up.

The telephone, my private line, was ringing. "Bob? It's Kevin.  I'm upstairs." Well, duuh! He'd have to climb out a
second-story window to be anywhere else. "My bag is underneath the work table with my clean clothes in it. Could you toss it up the steps, please?"

I took his bag to the side door landing and looked up. Kevin cautiously poked his head around the partially-opened door to make sure I was alone. Who was going to be behind me? The Mormon Tabernacle Choir? He started down the steps with only a towel wrapped around his waist. When he reached for the bag
when I tossed it, the towel fell. Even in the dim uneven light of the stairwell I could tell that the mortar between his legs was half hard. "You did that on purpose, didn't you?" I teased.

"Mmmmmaybe." I could hear him chuckling as he carried the bag in one hand and the towel in the other back to the top of the steps. Once there, he stopped and turned to see me still watching his naked body. "Like what you see?" He threw his hip to the side and leaned against the door jamb.

I had to laugh at him trying to be seductive at this hour of the morning. "You know, it's not nice to tease an old guy when he can't take you up on your offer. Hurry up and get dressed. There's work to do." I could hear someone tapping on the door, probably Mrs. Bender.

Fifteen minutes later Kevin showed up in a yellow sleeveless t-shirt, baggy khaki shorts that hit right below his knees and sneakers without socks. I was hoping that he at least had Odor Eaters in the sneaks. "I hope these are okay, Bob. It's the only stuff I have left with me that's clean."

I gave him an appraising look. The yellow shirt set off his tanned arms nicely. His left arm was a lot darker than his right probably because he spent so much time in his car.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk. Why do you guys like those baggy shorts so much?" I asked rhetorically. "Is it so you can get hard and no one will know?"

"That's probably part of it, but don't worry, Bob. I've got my...uhh...'suppressor' on so you won't be tempted too much."

"Good, because I don't want to be tempted too much, just enough. After all, I have your future in my hands." I cupped my hands in front of me like an Allstate Insurance commercial.

Keving was enjoying this little conversation. "And what," he paused for effect, "do you plan to do with it?" He was expecting an Answer, but I wasn't going to give him one.

"I'm going to hold it up so you can get a good look at it. Then you can see what all your options are so that you can make the best decisions for yourself." The smile left his face as he realized that I wasn't going to call the shots for him. "You're a big boy now and have to make your own choices."

"Okay, here's the plan for today. I want to clear out everything so we can close down next week. I've checked the pending jobs report, and there aren't that many pickup orders to worry about. The big problem will be to get people in here today to pick up the orders. If they don't, I'll leave them next door with Shirley. If any orders come in today, they can pick up late this afternoon. If they want it sooner, regular rush rates apply. Personally, I don't think we'll do that much since it's Friday, but you never know."

"Here's the list. You can cross off Bender; she just picked up. You start on the list, and I'll call Julie at the plant to change all our in-plant orders to drop shipments. I just hope the billing department doesn't screw up and send our bill with the order. When I'm done with her, I'll help you with the list."

"What about Mary? She can be a real pain sometimes."

"Good point. I'll call Hank and let him know what we've got planned for the week."

"Uhh, Bob, just what do we have planned for next week?"

"Kevin, I hired you because you're smart and cute. You're starting to lose points here. Think about it. What could the two of us possibly do between now and Tuesday?"

"Okay, we finish off all the work today and the rest of the time we..." He dragged out the "we", mulling over the possibilities. The best-case scenario finally filled the big blank space in his brain and his face lit up. "Oh, I get it! You and I..." He pointed upstairs. "...spend the week in bed! Cool!"

"Well, 'spend the week in bed' sounds kinda slutty, not to mention slovenly. I prefer to think of it as spending quality time together. And I'm sure we'll have to eat somewhere along the line if for no other reason than to keep up our strength.

"Anyway, you'll only be here until Wednesday morning. A friend of mine will be staying over the rest of the week. Maybe longer. So, are you up to it?"

"Hell, yes!"

"Then get to work." He took the list to his workstation and started processing orders. If he stayed focused on what was in front of him rather than what lay ahead of him, we might be finished by noon. His fingers were flying from the outset. He pried off his sneakers and scratched the back of his calf with his opposite foot and then seemed to rearrange something in his lap. Was our little talk that exciting?  Probably just jock itch.

I went to my cubbyhole of an office to call our printer. Julie Kemper, our rep at the printing plant, answered on the first ring and was her usual perky self. Except that this morning she must have taken extra perky pills.  She always sounded like she was squealing as she talked, but this morning it was painful.  I had to hold the phone away from my ear.  She assured me that everything would go just the way I wanted. I knocked wood when she said that. She's just the right person for customer service, always upbeat and positive and reassuring. And I mean always. If they ever remake the movie Pollyanna, I'm sure she'll get the lead role, even if she's 70 at the time.

Hank was just as reassuring. He'd make sure Mary didn't try to interrupt our little weekend tryst. Of course he wanted all the dish I could give him about Kevin. I thought Hank had already met him, but I guess I was wrong.

"Hank, he's just in the experimenting stage. And he's found someone he can trust to experiment with. Personally, I don't think he's going to end up a fraternity brother. I've seen how he acts whenever a cute co-ed comes in the store. There are extra hormones in the air for hours. Then again, I could be wrong. God knows, I've been wrong about people before. Just look at the guys I married."

"So how's he hung?" It was just like Hank to get right to what interested him most.

"Hank, you are such an animal. An animal with a one-track mind."

"Well, yeah. You knew that already." He said that like it was a given. "So how's he hung?"

"You know the old saying 'Long and thin will get you in, but short and thick does the trick'? He's going to be doing a lot of tricks, so to speak. If there were a Mr. Beer Can Dick Award, he'd win hands down. He might even retire the trophy."

"Listen, you guys want to come over Sunday for barbecue and a little frolic in the pool?" I didn't need a videophone to know that Hank was licking his lips in anticipation.

"Hank, you are incorrigible. I know because I tried to corrige you once and couldn't do it."

"If we're talking about what I think we're talking about, you did corrige me, Bob. And pretty good too as I recall."

"That was another time, Hank. I'm talking about you trying to sneak a peek at Kevin's schwantz and, knowing you, trying to cop a feel."

"Bob, I'm totally offended that you would say something like that." When he took that tone, I could see the look of mock indignation on his face. He was an animal and he was proud of it. "Anyway, just be here around noon or 1 PM. It's gonna be just me and the boys and Mack. I'm taking off Sunday and letting Frieda run the shop.

"As far as sneaking a peek is concerned, well, what can I say? It's a hobby with me now that Alan is gone."

"Don't mention that asshole's name, if you don't mind."

"Why? What's he done now?"

I told Hank the highlights about Alan intercepting Randy's note and throwing it away and how pissed off I was about it. "Just when I thought he was turning into a halfway decent human being, he pulls this stunt."

"He did that, huh? I wonder why. He called me earlier in the week to see how I was doing but he really wanted to talk about you. And he kept steering the conversation back to you, Bob. If I didn't know better, I'd say there was a touch of infatuation there, buddy."

"Oh, give me a break, Hank. He's not even on my OWD list."

"Okay, I'll bite. What's 'OWD' stand for?"

"Only When Desperate. It's a short list. As a matter of fact, you're the only one on it right now," I chuckled hoping to get his goat.

"Well, at least I'm on someone's list. And unless I'm mistaken, you're on Alan's list. And pretty high too." Great. Just what I wanted to hear.

The doorbell above my desk chimed. "Hank, I've got to go. Got a customer."

"Okay. We'll see you guys Sunday afternoon."

And what a customer it was! I've always had an attraction for tall guys who aren't skinny, which would explain my feelings for Randy. This guy was in the same class as Randy, but a darker version. He had dark eyes made darker by his frowning expression. His dark, close-cropped hair was a buzzcut long enough that it was about to become a regular haircut. He had more follicles on his head than I have on my entire body. Did I mention that I'm just a tad defensive about my receding hairline? No? Well, now you know.

This guy was seriously cute, but I wouldn't drop Randy for him.  He didn't look like a happy person. Still, I wondered what he'd look like out of his warmup suit. But then, I think that about most young guys. As you can imagine, I was a bit tongue-tied even saying just "Good morning."

He didn't smile but asked simply, "Is Kevin here? Kevin Shriver?"

"Yes, he is. I'll get him for you." Just once I'd like a kid like this to come into the store and ask, "Are you Bob Schneider? The guy with the talented tongue?" Come to think of it, maybe that's what Randy had done. Except he didn't know about the tongue thing at the time.

Kevin put his shoes back on after I called him from the doorway. I was going to "busy" myself with counter work so I could take in this young stud for as long as possible.

Kevin brought some finished jobs out to the counter with him. "Shoe! How you doin'? Long time no see. Whassup, dude?"

"Kev, I'm in some deep shit here, and I need your help." He glanced briefly at me to see if I heard his little faux pas. Of course I did; I was hanging on his every word. "Look at this." He put some papers on the counter for Kevin to inspect. "I'm supposed to have this spread around town by this afternoon, but they're ruined. I've only got these few left that you can read. Can you redo 'em, man? I'll owe you big time."

"Jeez, Shoe, what the hell happened to them? You drop these in the toilet? He held the paper away from him with just his thumb and forefinger.

"No, man. It wasn't that bad, but I did knock 'em in the sink just as I was leaving the apartment. Can you fix em up, Kev?"

"Yeah, I can do it. It won't be exactly the same, but I can knock it out for you. Did the Dean's office okay this? I mean, with all the talk about drinking on campus, I'm surprised they'd let this go. You're advertising a band, but there are pictures of beer mugs, martini glasses. Who did this anyway?"

"One of the guys at the frat house. Jimmy Geaux, I think."

"Well, he came close, but it could be better. I'll fix it for you. Bob, could you make a couple of calls while I do this job? There's only four to call."

I took the call sheets and retreated to my office. I could overhear snatches of their conversation while I made the calls. "This has to go...let me change this...need a different piece here...nope, doesn't work...let me try this...let's see how this looks..." My calls finished, I watched from my doorway. Shoe was leaning over Kevin's left shoulder, his right hand on Kevin's right shoulder. He seemed to be leaning in awfully close. Well, what is that? A tinge of jealousy perhaps? A sense of impending loss? Hmmm, too early to tell.

"How's that look?" Kevin asked.

Shoe exclaimed, "Kevin, you are the man!" and did the hand slap thing that kids do. Except that Shoe held Kevins' hand instead of slapping it. Okay, jealousy it is. I didn't have a chance to dwell on it because I could hear the door opening. Dealing with a customer would help me avoid dealing with reality for a few minutes.

He walked in ramrod straight, not one of his silver hairs out of place. His black eyebrows were knit in a frown giving him a forebidding look, but he lost it quickly when he saw me at the counter. He approached the counter with his hand outstretched. He was either a salesman or a politician. "Hi, I'm Coach Marty Maxwell." I was right on both counts. He flashed his trademark smile. He's got enough teeth for two sharks, and I think I'd trust the sharks more than I do this guy. I don't like him.

Last year I heard through the Brotherhood Gossip Network that he had kicked two kids off the team because they were suspected of being gay. I don't usually rely on the network for real news, but everything I had learned after that revelation pointed to the story being true. And my sources were good.

"Hello, Coach. I almost didn't recognize you without the Armani suit." I figured I'd get in my digs where I could. "What brings you here?"

"Actually, it's a Brooks Brothers. Always been partial to them. I have some...uhh...work for you if you can fit it in your schedule. My wife tells me you did the invitations for our daughter's sweet sixteen party, and I figured I'd send a little more work your way." Ah, a morsel from the master's table. Remind me to bow and scrape.

He had a simple compose and copy job to print out, something that could have been done on any word processor by any freshman he might have asked. I was about to point that out to him when he spoke up.

"Nice place you have here. Been in business long?" I told him about my fifteen years in business and how I'd branched out from desktop publishing and graphic arts and expanded into web publishing as well. He seemed impressed with my list of clients, especially those for whom I was technically the webmaster.

"It seemed like the next logical step," I explained. "It's still graphic design, just like a newspaper ad or a magazine ad, except that now," I pointed to the computer on the counter with my thumb, "we work with electrons rather than with ink. You have to go with the flow, y'know."

We talked about my business for a while, and then I steered the conversation to his business. Things looked good for the next season because of all the returning seniors.  Everyone was healthy; no summertime accidents to worry about.  When I asked about transfers from junior colleges, his eyes never flinched and he held my gaze. His thumb, however, started tapping a tattoo on the countertop and I knew then why he was here with his simple
print job.

"Anybody look promising, Coach?" I hoped my smile wasn't coming off as a smirk, but it probably was.

"Yes, the Sullivan boy--I believe you know him--might be a real sleeper for the shooting guard spot."

"And he's the reason you're here today, right Coach? Just what do you want anyway?"

He kept his palms on the table, straightened his back a bit more and looked me straight in the eye. He's probably not used to people talking to him bluntly. He held that pose for only a moment before leaning toward me. "Mr. Schneider, I'm going to lay it out for you. The Sullivan kid could be important to us. The long and the short of it is this. I don't want a replay of last year. Too much dissension, too much..." He stopped in mid-sentence, staring over my shoulder, a questioning look on his face.

I looked behind me to see Shoe staring at the Coach dumbfounded, his hands clenched into fists. His mouth moved like he was going to say something, but no words came out. He turned and disappeared into the back room.

Coach was smirking now. He shook his head and looked at me askance. "You guys really stick together, don't you? What is it? Is he working for you now?"

"No, he isn't. But I just might hire him today if it'll piss you off a little more." I was starting to lean over the counter like he was and I could feel my hands really starting to shake.  When I get confrontational, my hands start shaking like I have Parkinsons Disease.  I was going to have to hit something pretty soon just to stop the tremors. "Now. What. Do. You. Want?"

Coach reached his breaking point. His television-interview composure was completely gone and his voice was menacing. "Keep your goddam hands off of Sullivan. I won't have it. You don't know what your messing with here, Schneider." He pointed his finger just inches from my face. "Just stay out of it!"  The look on his face would have gotten him a technical foul on any basketball court.

It was my turn now, but I had to regain control of my body first before my shaking betrayed me. I pounded the counter lift-gate with the side of my fist. The percussion forced Coach back a step in surprise. My shaking subsided a little but not much. I heard a faint "Jesus!" behind me from one of the kids. "Who the hell do you think you are coming in here telling me who I can see? This isn't the gym, Coach! It's none of your goddam business!"

"Yes, it is my business! The school is making a substantial investment in this kid, and we intend to protect that investment. And having him whoring around town is not going to be good for the team or for him as an individual. So just keep your hands to yourself."

"Somehow, Coach, I'm just not convinced that you're all that concerned about him as an individual. And as far as 'whoring around' is concerned, if you think you can control that many young men in their sexual prime, you ought to write a book or sell the process on late-night TV. You'll make a lot of anxious mothers very relieved.

"Unless, of course, you're telling the team that's how they should 'relax'. The Gospel according to Mad Max! 'Get yourself a nice piece of ass, guys, as long as its co-ed ass. Don't do any of that queer stuff with each other.'

"You're just as arrogant and insolent as you look on the sidelines, Coach. Get out of my place now. And don't send any of your goons around to try to find out what's happening. If I even suspect one of your spies is hanging around me or anyone I know, I'll slap you and the university with a lawsuit so fast it'll make your dick spin."

Coach stood his ground. "I'm not leaving until I have your assur..."

I pounded the lift-gate again and shouted, "YOU WON'T GET ANYTHING FROM ME GODDAMIT! NOW GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE!"

He narrowed his eyes and looked like he was going to get in a parting shot, but instead he just turned and walked out, his back still ramrod straight and his head held high. He certainly didn't walk out like he had lost an argument. I got the feeling I was going to meet up with him again.

I let what felt like all the air in my lungs escape. I was wringing my hands, trying to bring them down from their palsy. I turned around and found two young men smiling at me. "Well," I said, "that was an intelligent, informed exchange of ideas, don't you think? It's one helluva way to get your juices flowing in the morning, that's for sure. Good thing it happened after I had my morning coffee. I might not have been so polite beforehand."

Kevin smiled even bigger. "Jesus, Bob, I've never seen you like that before."

"Kevin lock the front door, go get three dixie cups and bring them to my office." The two boys stood attentively in front of the desk as I felt around the back of the bottom drawer. "Gentlemen, I am not an advocate of turning to alcohol during times of stress. But dammit, I need a drink right now and I don't like to drink alone." I produced a half-filled bottle of Canadian Mist and poured three generous shots. "Salud!" I toasted and downed my drink in one pass and poured myself another. They sipped theirs.

Kevin screwed up his face as he sipped his, then looked in his cup. "Hey, this is pretty smooth. Just like you, boss," he grinned with some admiration. I had to correct that pretty quick.

"No, that was not "smooth", Kev. "Smooth" would have been a lot more tactful and diplomatic. No, that was not "smooth". That was just being pissed off big time and letting my emotions take over. I'm not particularly proud of myself." I took a smaller sip of Mist this time.

"Yeah, but it feels good, doesn't it?"

I looked at his smiling face and couldn't resist a smile of my own. "Damn straight it feels good!"

"How did you know about the spies," asked Shoe. I gave him my blankest look as if he'd asked for a Readers Digest explanation of quantum physics.

"Say what?"

"His spies. How did you know about them?"

"It was just an expression, Shoe. I didn't mean anything by it."

"Well, he's got 'em alright. It was one of his snitches that outed me and Denny last year. I never did find out who it was. I'd sure like to though and give him a piece of my mind. And maybe a piece of my fist."

"Have you heard from Denny since he left," asked Kevin.

"No," said Shoe dejectedly, looking at his almost-empty cup. He looked at Kevin with the most forlorn look I've ever seen since I had my first heartbreak. "No calls any more, no letters, not even a lousy email. He could at least tell me that there's no hope for us any more. I don't know why I keep hoping."

"Gee, Shoe, I'm sorry. I don't know what else to say." If nothing else, Kevin was sincere when he said that. You could see it in his eyes. And in a time like that, sincerity is all that matters.

I decided to put in my usual two cents worth. "You want to vent, right?" He nodded. "You want to beat the crap out of something, right?" Again he nodded. "Well, whenever you feel the urge, you come on over here and you can pound on Kevin all you want." I tried to keep a straight face, but it didn't last long.

Kevin let out an offended "Heeeey!" and Shoe laughed at the prospect.

"No, I couldn't do that. He's too cute to mess up." I'll bet his entire body turned red when he said that, not just the parts that we could see. Kevin blushed just as seriously. Time to defuse the situation; let them get to need each other.

"Kevin, I know you had plans for tonight, but I think you ought to change them and go to this concert tonight. Shoe looks like he could use a friend right now, and that's what you do best." I hoped he wouldn't make a liar out of me with that comment. I've seen him clam up like a shy ten-year-old at a girls' backyard tea party. There was a mild panic on his face.

"Are you sure, Bob?"

Shoe looked from Kevin to me and back to Kevin. "You guys had something planned for tonight, right?" He's sharper than I thought.

I gave him my best reassuring smile. "It was just some training on a new system we're trying to initiate. It can wait. I'm sure." Kevin's look was becoming more panicky. "Kevin, I'm sure you can pick up on the basics on your own time if you apply what you've already learned at the beginning. Just don't rush it."

That seemed to reassure him a bit. He stole a glance at Shoe and then smiled at me. "I'll give it my best shot, boss."

"I know you will, Kev. Now where do we stand with our workload today? Can you run another status report please?" He trotted off to request the report, leaving me alone with Shoe.

"So, Shoe, however did you get that nickname?"

"Oh, well, my full name is Eugene Edward Esswein. Triple-E, just like the shoe size. Some wiseass at the frathouse came up with "Shoe" and it just stuck. It doesn't hurt that I wear a size 14, so I guess it's not so bad."

"Did you mean what you said about Kevin? About his being too cute to pound on?" Uh oh, I could feel myself moving into full parental mode.

Shoe nodded his head and smiled at me. "Yeah, he is kinda cute. You know, in a dorky kind of way." Dorky? Kevin, dorky? Well, beauty is in the eye they say.

"Shoe, Kevin is kind of new to this situation. He's still trying to find his way. So promise me that you'll be friends first, and if anything more serious develops out of that, then...well, you'll know what to do.

"Just don't hurt his feelings or rush him. If you hurt him, I'll never forgive you."

"Okay. I promise. I'll take it slow. But what if he wants to, you know, go fast? What then?"

"Find out what his limits are and then respect them. It's what you'd want someone to do to you, right?" He nodded his agreement. "Good. So have fun tonight. You have your own place?"

He was fidgeting with the buttons on his shirt. Well, this conversation was supposed to make him a little nervous, make him think things through before he just jumped into something. "Yeah, and I've got a nosy roommate too, but if I tell him 'Hands off', he butts out. Kevin will be safe if he stays over."

"I'm glad to hear that. He's not responsible to me for his actions, but I don't want to see his feelings get hurt at all. You with me on this, Shoe?"

"Yessir. I'll be careful. I promise."

"Good. Now would you mind finding out what's taking him so long with that report?" He left and I restashed what little was left of the Canadian Mist. I could hear him telling Kevin, "I think you're going to get Parental Lecture #17 when you go in there. Pay attention. He likes you a lot."

Kevin handed my the status report which was almost empty, only one job to go. He had definitely been working at top speed. "Close the door please. And have a seat." I put the report in my look-at-this-pile-soon stack and motioned to Kevin to sit in what passed for an easy chair.

"I'm going to tell you the same thing I told Shoe. You guys should concentrate on being friends first, and if anything else develops, you'll have to cross that bridge when you get to it." He was about to say something, but I held up my hand to ward him off for a few more minutes.

"I know you're a bit disappointed about not getting together tonight, but I think this is more important. And besides, it's a lot more meaningful..." I was going to say 'exciting' but I didn't want to give him the idea that he should jump into anything. "...to experiment on your own with someone you like. So if--and it's a big 'if'--you get that far, don't worry about your lack of expertise, so to speak. Just go with the flow.

"And don't be reluctant to talk to each other. He has to know what your limits are and you have to know what his are. And you each have to respect those limits. You with me so far?" He nodded his head and looked like he wished he had taken notes.

"Finally..." But I couldn't come up with a "finally" to cap off our talk. I at last felt the nervousness my dad did when he had The Talk with me. "Well, just go out and have fun and see what happens, okay?"

"Okay, Bob. And thanks. Thanks for everything. Does this count as the Birds-and-Bees talk?" He was grinning evilly now. I returned it in spades.

"I think it's more like the Birds-and-Birds talk, but I could be wrong." As I got out of my chair, he rose too. I took him in my arms and gave him a big hug. "Just take care of yourself, babe," I whispered to him.

When he moved away, his eyes were teary and he barely got out his "Thank you."

"You can thank me by naming your first kid after me," I joked.

He wiped his eyes with his forearm and smiled. "You want me to name a kid 'Boss'? That's too weird?"

"Well, at least his friends would know who's in charge. Now get out of here. I'll finish up that last order and close up shop. You two go get better acquainted."

I watched them make their plans for lunch as they walked toward the door. When they were outside, Kevin had his hand resting on Shoe's shoulder, a comradely gesture. Suddenly they both burst into laughter and Shoe slipped his arm around Kevin and pulled him close. They were probably comparing notes about their "lectures". And that was okay with me.

I turned to look at the computer and realized how deathly quiet it was. There was hardly any traffic outside, the radio had never gotten turned on this morning. Not a sound.

"Well," I said to the walls, "you've shot yourself in the foot this time, pal."