A/N: Our little Ricky is really coming along, hmm? Any reviews would be greatly appreciated. Oh, and Southwind, great to see you again and if you want to be on my e-mail update list, please e-mail me at [email protected] and I'll add you so you don't have to check anything but your e-mail to see when I've updated. -DL
Chapter 3
Ricky steeled himself for the inevitable confrontation with the station manager over his announcement. "Ricky!" the older man cried in agitation. "What is this about? Are you quitting?!"
"Yeah, I am, Walter," Ricky said. "I'm sorry, but I can't do this show anymore. I...I'm really confused right now. I have a lot of stuff to think about. So much has happened in the past few days..."
Walter Dobchick frowned at him. "What's happened? Is this about the bank robbery?"
"In a way," Ricky said, looking down at his hands. He was sitting in the station manager's office, feeling like a school boy being chided by the principal. Still, Walter had a right to be upset. Ricky's given him no notice that he was thinking about quitting his show. "I...during that bank robbery, I was almost shot by the robber. The off-duty cop who saved me...he's gay, Walter. He saved my life, took a bullet for me...and he's gay."
"Oh," Walter said, sudden understanding in his voice. "I guess I can see why you wouldn't want to go on the air and say horrible things about gay people anymore, not after that. I just wish that you'd come to me or called me before you went on the air and told them you were quitting your show."
"I'm really sorry," Ricky said contritely. "I know I've put you in a bind, and I have a contract..."
Walter waved that away. "If you can't do the show anymore, what good is a contract? I'm not going to force you to go on the air and be a bigot if you don't want to anymore. Actually," he shrugged, "If I'm going to be honest, I'm just as glad that you're quitting."
Ricky gaped at him. "You are?!"
Walter sighed. "Yes. I had to put up with your show because it gets such good ratings, but the truth is that I hate it. I hate the fact that we have a homophobe ranting over our airways day after day. It gives our station a bad name. And it makes me uncomfortable when people ask me how I can let that filth be played on my station. But I had no choice in the matter, because the advertisers were happy about the numbers you were pulling in. Sometimes being a manager really sucks," he added glumly.
"Oh," Ricky was taken aback. "You really didn't like my show?"
"I hated it," Walter replied bluntly. "It's always been awful and ugly. I can't even listen to it. It makes me cringe. I never told you this, Ricky, because I didn't want to upset you - but my brother is gay. And I happen to love and support my brother and his partner. Having to run your program on my station - I felt like a traitor to him. He's always understood, but I'll be so happy to tell him that you're not on anymore..."
Ricky squirmed in his chair. "I'm sorry, Walter," he said. "I still don't know how I feel about gays," he added apologetically.
"Of course you don't. It takes time to change, even your mind. Maybe ESPECIALLY your mind. But I think that quitting your show is a step in the right direction," Walter said approvingly.
"What'll you do...about my time slot?"
Walter sighed. "If I'd had some notice," he began chidingly. Ricky flinched. "I could have started looking for somebody to replace you. Still, I think I'll put that auto repair show on in your time slot for now. They're pretty popular. And if they do well, I'll keep them there and fill their slot with somebody else. What will YOU do now, Ricky?" he asked in concern.
"I don't know," he said helplessly. "But I thought I might look for work as a regular d.j. That's what I studied to be in college."
Walter nodded. "I'll write you a letter of recommendation," he said.
Ricky's mouth dropped open. "You'd DO that?! After I quit on you so suddenly?!"
Walter shrugged. "It's not the ideal situation, but I don't want to punish you by giving you a bad recommendation and maybe destroying your chances to get any other jobs in radio."
"Oh, man. Walter, thank you so much," Ricky said fervently, jumping up to shake the station manager's hand across the desk. "I can never repay you for this."
Walter smiled slightly. "Yes, you can. Go out and make something of yourself, Ricky," he said, and he had the odd feeling that Walter wasn't talking about his career in radio...
Ricky left the radio station for the last time, feeling both free and more than a touch scared. What if he couldn't find another job? He had some savings, but who knew how long they'd last him? Still, he knew with certainty that he simply couldn't have gone on the air and talked like he normally did, saying all of those hateful things about gays. Not until he decided how he really felt about them now, or thought about them. He wasn't ready to march in a gay pride parade, or advocate for gay marriage, or anything like that. All he knew was that he felt ashamed to go on the air and say nasty things about gay people after his very life had been saved by one.
His heart sank when he got home and saw a familiar battered pick-up truck sitting in his driveway. He gulped, thinking that maybe he should just drive on and find someplace to hide. But he had to face his father eventually - it was inevitable. So he gathered his courage and parked his car next to the truck, getting out to face the grizzled, scowling older man standing next to it.
"Hi, Dad," he said thinly.
"Don't you 'hi, Dad' me, boy," Roger Raynes spat. "What the fuck is this I hear about some faggot saving your pussy life?"
"It's true, Dad. I was in my bank when a guy came in to rob it. He would have shot me if an off-duty cop hadn't pulled down on him. And that cop happens to be gay." he lifted his chin as his father's black scowl deepened.
"You should have just taken the bullet," he hissed. "No son of mine needs to be saved by some queer!"
"First of all, I didn't know he was gay at the time," Ricky snapped. "Second, I really like being alive so I guess I don't care whether he's gay or not."
"Don't you talk back to me, Ricky," his father said menacingly, stepping toward him.
He cringed, but stood his ground. "It's true," he said, even as his insides clenched in pure fear. "I don't care that he's gay. He saved my life, Dad. He's a hero."
"You turning into a queer, too, Ricky?" there was a snake-like quality to Roger Raynes' flat stare. "Defending one of them sick bastards? You gonna be bending over so that one of those fags can stick his pecker up where the sun don't shine?"
"No! I'm not a queer! But he DID save my life!" Ricky cried doggedly, trying not to take a step back.
Roger Raynes snarled and caught him by the front of the t-shirt he was wearing. "You listen to me, boy. I don't ever want to hear you call one of them sick homos a 'hero' again, you hearing me? Are you?!" and he shook Ricky like a rag-doll.
"Yes! I hear you!" Ricky fought not to let his voice climb into a shrill screech, terror washing over him.
Roger released his shirt. "Good. Cause I would be VERY displeased, Ricky. I'm not sure what I might do," the casual threat of violence, combined with his hard, ugly stare, made Ricky wonder distantly if his bowels might give way at any moment.
Roger straightened up and shrugged. "Your momma told me to tell you to come to dinner next week," he said, as though he hadn't just threatened his own son.
"Sure. I'll come," Ricky said thinly, trying not to let the way his limbs were shaking show.
Roger Raynes nodded. "Why are you home so early, anyway? Shouldn't you be doin' your show right now?" he asked.
Ricky felt terror surge up in him again, but that state of panic also brought with it a surprisingly sharp clarity. "The station manager gave me a week off," he lied, so smoothly that it took him by surprise. "To recover."
Roger Raynes snorted derisively. "Pussy. A guy pointed a gun at you. Big deal. Well, I'll get goin'. I've gotta go over to the gun range and meet Ned."
Ricky nodded, knowing that his father was speaking of his weekly target practice shooting sessions with his friend Ned Westermeier, during which time both men drank way too much beer and ended up half-sloshed before target practice was over. Needless to say, everybody else at the gun club cleared out when Ned and Roger appeared.
His father got into his truck and roared away, not bothering to wave or look at Ricky. He stood next to his car, frozen in place, shuddering with relief and a release of fear. Fortunately, his father seldom if ever listened to his show, so he wouldn't know that Ricky was off the air anytime soon. That was one consolation, at least. And...he's sort of stood up to his father. Maybe not as much as he should have, but his father was such a violent man that Ricky didn't know what he might do if he ever truly defied him. His father had a drinking problem, lots of rage, and an entire arsenal of guns. Bad combination...
He scrubbed at his face with his hands, wearily. This had been SUCH a long week! His whole world was being turned upside down, and he felt dizzy and confused. There was only one thing to do when he felt this out-of-sorts...he was going to take a nap. A long, LONG nap!
He woke up many hours later, feeling much better. He wandered muzzily into his kitchen, seeing that it was after five. Ricky paused in the doorway, thinking hard. It was visiting hours at the hospital, and for some reason he really wanted to go and talk to James Belmont. He wasn't sure why, he just did. Maybe it was because the cop seemed so calm, so together. He might just be able to give Ricky some advice or something. If he was going to start thinking about gay people in a different way, shouldn't he hang around one? And maybe hanging around one would help clarify for him whether he even wanted to think about them in a different way. Maybe James Belmont would turn out to be a horrible person after all, a typical fag. Then Ricky could go back to his old ways without a qualm, right?
That sounded good. He'd go to the hospital and talk to James Belmont. Ricky went to pull on a light jacket, working hard to ignore the feeling of anticipation coursing through him at the thought of seeing the cop again.
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Chapter 3
Ricky steeled himself for the inevitable confrontation with the station manager over his announcement. "Ricky!" the older man cried in agitation. "What is this about? Are you quitting?!"
"Yeah, I am, Walter," Ricky said. "I'm sorry, but I can't do this show anymore. I...I'm really confused right now. I have a lot of stuff to think about. So much has happened in the past few days..."
Walter Dobchick frowned at him. "What's happened? Is this about the bank robbery?"
"In a way," Ricky said, looking down at his hands. He was sitting in the station manager's office, feeling like a school boy being chided by the principal. Still, Walter had a right to be upset. Ricky's given him no notice that he was thinking about quitting his show. "I...during that bank robbery, I was almost shot by the robber. The off-duty cop who saved me...he's gay, Walter. He saved my life, took a bullet for me...and he's gay."
"Oh," Walter said, sudden understanding in his voice. "I guess I can see why you wouldn't want to go on the air and say horrible things about gay people anymore, not after that. I just wish that you'd come to me or called me before you went on the air and told them you were quitting your show."
"I'm really sorry," Ricky said contritely. "I know I've put you in a bind, and I have a contract..."
Walter waved that away. "If you can't do the show anymore, what good is a contract? I'm not going to force you to go on the air and be a bigot if you don't want to anymore. Actually," he shrugged, "If I'm going to be honest, I'm just as glad that you're quitting."
Ricky gaped at him. "You are?!"
Walter sighed. "Yes. I had to put up with your show because it gets such good ratings, but the truth is that I hate it. I hate the fact that we have a homophobe ranting over our airways day after day. It gives our station a bad name. And it makes me uncomfortable when people ask me how I can let that filth be played on my station. But I had no choice in the matter, because the advertisers were happy about the numbers you were pulling in. Sometimes being a manager really sucks," he added glumly.
"Oh," Ricky was taken aback. "You really didn't like my show?"
"I hated it," Walter replied bluntly. "It's always been awful and ugly. I can't even listen to it. It makes me cringe. I never told you this, Ricky, because I didn't want to upset you - but my brother is gay. And I happen to love and support my brother and his partner. Having to run your program on my station - I felt like a traitor to him. He's always understood, but I'll be so happy to tell him that you're not on anymore..."
Ricky squirmed in his chair. "I'm sorry, Walter," he said. "I still don't know how I feel about gays," he added apologetically.
"Of course you don't. It takes time to change, even your mind. Maybe ESPECIALLY your mind. But I think that quitting your show is a step in the right direction," Walter said approvingly.
"What'll you do...about my time slot?"
Walter sighed. "If I'd had some notice," he began chidingly. Ricky flinched. "I could have started looking for somebody to replace you. Still, I think I'll put that auto repair show on in your time slot for now. They're pretty popular. And if they do well, I'll keep them there and fill their slot with somebody else. What will YOU do now, Ricky?" he asked in concern.
"I don't know," he said helplessly. "But I thought I might look for work as a regular d.j. That's what I studied to be in college."
Walter nodded. "I'll write you a letter of recommendation," he said.
Ricky's mouth dropped open. "You'd DO that?! After I quit on you so suddenly?!"
Walter shrugged. "It's not the ideal situation, but I don't want to punish you by giving you a bad recommendation and maybe destroying your chances to get any other jobs in radio."
"Oh, man. Walter, thank you so much," Ricky said fervently, jumping up to shake the station manager's hand across the desk. "I can never repay you for this."
Walter smiled slightly. "Yes, you can. Go out and make something of yourself, Ricky," he said, and he had the odd feeling that Walter wasn't talking about his career in radio...
Ricky left the radio station for the last time, feeling both free and more than a touch scared. What if he couldn't find another job? He had some savings, but who knew how long they'd last him? Still, he knew with certainty that he simply couldn't have gone on the air and talked like he normally did, saying all of those hateful things about gays. Not until he decided how he really felt about them now, or thought about them. He wasn't ready to march in a gay pride parade, or advocate for gay marriage, or anything like that. All he knew was that he felt ashamed to go on the air and say nasty things about gay people after his very life had been saved by one.
His heart sank when he got home and saw a familiar battered pick-up truck sitting in his driveway. He gulped, thinking that maybe he should just drive on and find someplace to hide. But he had to face his father eventually - it was inevitable. So he gathered his courage and parked his car next to the truck, getting out to face the grizzled, scowling older man standing next to it.
"Hi, Dad," he said thinly.
"Don't you 'hi, Dad' me, boy," Roger Raynes spat. "What the fuck is this I hear about some faggot saving your pussy life?"
"It's true, Dad. I was in my bank when a guy came in to rob it. He would have shot me if an off-duty cop hadn't pulled down on him. And that cop happens to be gay." he lifted his chin as his father's black scowl deepened.
"You should have just taken the bullet," he hissed. "No son of mine needs to be saved by some queer!"
"First of all, I didn't know he was gay at the time," Ricky snapped. "Second, I really like being alive so I guess I don't care whether he's gay or not."
"Don't you talk back to me, Ricky," his father said menacingly, stepping toward him.
He cringed, but stood his ground. "It's true," he said, even as his insides clenched in pure fear. "I don't care that he's gay. He saved my life, Dad. He's a hero."
"You turning into a queer, too, Ricky?" there was a snake-like quality to Roger Raynes' flat stare. "Defending one of them sick bastards? You gonna be bending over so that one of those fags can stick his pecker up where the sun don't shine?"
"No! I'm not a queer! But he DID save my life!" Ricky cried doggedly, trying not to take a step back.
Roger Raynes snarled and caught him by the front of the t-shirt he was wearing. "You listen to me, boy. I don't ever want to hear you call one of them sick homos a 'hero' again, you hearing me? Are you?!" and he shook Ricky like a rag-doll.
"Yes! I hear you!" Ricky fought not to let his voice climb into a shrill screech, terror washing over him.
Roger released his shirt. "Good. Cause I would be VERY displeased, Ricky. I'm not sure what I might do," the casual threat of violence, combined with his hard, ugly stare, made Ricky wonder distantly if his bowels might give way at any moment.
Roger straightened up and shrugged. "Your momma told me to tell you to come to dinner next week," he said, as though he hadn't just threatened his own son.
"Sure. I'll come," Ricky said thinly, trying not to let the way his limbs were shaking show.
Roger Raynes nodded. "Why are you home so early, anyway? Shouldn't you be doin' your show right now?" he asked.
Ricky felt terror surge up in him again, but that state of panic also brought with it a surprisingly sharp clarity. "The station manager gave me a week off," he lied, so smoothly that it took him by surprise. "To recover."
Roger Raynes snorted derisively. "Pussy. A guy pointed a gun at you. Big deal. Well, I'll get goin'. I've gotta go over to the gun range and meet Ned."
Ricky nodded, knowing that his father was speaking of his weekly target practice shooting sessions with his friend Ned Westermeier, during which time both men drank way too much beer and ended up half-sloshed before target practice was over. Needless to say, everybody else at the gun club cleared out when Ned and Roger appeared.
His father got into his truck and roared away, not bothering to wave or look at Ricky. He stood next to his car, frozen in place, shuddering with relief and a release of fear. Fortunately, his father seldom if ever listened to his show, so he wouldn't know that Ricky was off the air anytime soon. That was one consolation, at least. And...he's sort of stood up to his father. Maybe not as much as he should have, but his father was such a violent man that Ricky didn't know what he might do if he ever truly defied him. His father had a drinking problem, lots of rage, and an entire arsenal of guns. Bad combination...
He scrubbed at his face with his hands, wearily. This had been SUCH a long week! His whole world was being turned upside down, and he felt dizzy and confused. There was only one thing to do when he felt this out-of-sorts...he was going to take a nap. A long, LONG nap!
He woke up many hours later, feeling much better. He wandered muzzily into his kitchen, seeing that it was after five. Ricky paused in the doorway, thinking hard. It was visiting hours at the hospital, and for some reason he really wanted to go and talk to James Belmont. He wasn't sure why, he just did. Maybe it was because the cop seemed so calm, so together. He might just be able to give Ricky some advice or something. If he was going to start thinking about gay people in a different way, shouldn't he hang around one? And maybe hanging around one would help clarify for him whether he even wanted to think about them in a different way. Maybe James Belmont would turn out to be a horrible person after all, a typical fag. Then Ricky could go back to his old ways without a qualm, right?
That sounded good. He'd go to the hospital and talk to James Belmont. Ricky went to pull on a light jacket, working hard to ignore the feeling of anticipation coursing through him at the thought of seeing the cop again.
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