A/N: Reviews for our growing boy? :) Also, for those of you who haven't seen the main page, I fixed The New Kid in Town and divided it into 12 parts so that it will be more readable. -DL
Chapter 6
"Well, folks, this is Rockin' Ricky Raynes, signing off for today. Hope everybody has a nice drive home," he pushed the microphone away from his face, as the tech gave him a silent 'thumb's up' sign. Ricky felt a shiver of delight go through him. His first show as a real DJ was done, and he'd killed it! He'd been funny, full of energy, completely on. He still felt a bit twitchy as he stood up and left the booth, where the station manager was waiting for him.
"That was a good show, Mr. Raynes," the manager remarked. "I'm impressed. If you continue like this, I'll be happy to make you a permanent member of our team."
"Thank you, Mr. Cabrera. I really appreciate you giving me this chance," Ricky said fervently.
A nod. "I'll see you tomorrow, Mr. Raynes. Have a good night."
"I will. And you too," Ricky said, before he left the radio station. Much as he didn't want to go, he had a dinner date with his parents. He didn't dare not go, because his father would come to see him again to express his unhappiness with Ricky. ` He shuddered as he remembered incidents from the past where his father had expressed his unhappiness with him, and he definitely didn't want a repeat.
Twenty minutes later he pulled into the driveway of his parents' home. His mouth felt dry, and his nerves were on edge as he went up the walk. He knocked on the door, and it was opened by his mother. "Ricky," she said with a wan smile. "Come on in."
"Hey, Mom," he said, entering the door. "I've come to dinner. Dad said you wanted me to come."
"Sure. I just wanted to make sure that you're all right after that bank robbery," she said, looking him up and down.
"I am," Ricky told her.
She nodded, then led the way into the kitchen. Under the unflattering kitchen light, the lines in Sarah Raynes' face showed up starkly. Her graying hair was pulled back severely from her face, and she wore a faded flower-print blouse and a denim skirt. Her dead eyes never quite met his as she moved around the kitchen, finishing dinner. "Your dad will be home soon," she said. "He's out with friends."
Out drinking, of course. Roger tended to come home drunk more often than he did sober. Which never stopped him from driving, of course...why he hadn't killed anybody yet, Ricky didn't know. The man just had the luck of the Devil. "Sit down there, Ricky, while I finish dinner," his mother said, pointing at a stool.
He sat obediently, knowing better than to offer to help her cook dinner. That was a woman's job, even though he'd tried protesting in the past that he cooked for himself now that he lived alone. She'd simply say that he needed to find some nice girl and settle down, so that he didn't have to cook or clean for himself anymore. And he had no argument against that, because he'd always wanted to find some nice girl and settle down into cozy domesticity. So far, though, none of his relationships had ever worked out. He wasn't sure why. Maybe it was his father's genes in him? Maybe some of Roger's hateful poison had settled into his veins, and girls could somehow see that? Or maybe meeting their future father-in-law is what drove them away, because they were afraid that Ricky would ultimately become his father?
He steeled himself for the inevitable question that his mother asked him every time he came to visit his parents. "Are you seeing anyone, Ricky?"
"Uh, no, Mom, not right now," he said apologetically.
She gave him a chiding look as she stirred the pot on the stove top. "You need to find a nice girl and settle down, Ricky," she said, just as she did every time.
"I know, Mom. I just haven't met the right person yet," he replied, just as HE did every time.
She sighed, turning back to her pot. Ricky felt guilty. He knew that his mother wanted a daughter-in-law to talk to and maybe even become friends with. Also, she longed for grandkids. Grandkids would be better than children, because they'd be raised away from her husband where Roger couldn't abuse them. She could love them without being afraid of what her husband was going to do to them. Ricky knew that, and he'd always wanted to give that to her. He worried often about what kind of father he'd be, after being raised by Roger Raynes. But he still wanted kids. He just had to find the right woman, if she even existed...
A bang, a crash, and Roger stormed into the kitchen with a black scowl on his face. "Boy, you parked your damn car in my space!" he barked. "Go and move it right now!"
He jumped up as though he'd been stung. "Yes, Dad," he said meekly, scurrying out to move his car. If he'd hesitated at all, his father would have helped him along with a boot to his ass. And Roger had steel-toed boots, literally. He'd had more than one bruised tailbone from contact with those nasty boots.
He sat at the table later and tried not to choke on his food. The tension in the air was palpable, because Roger was half-drunk and in a bad mood. He was glaring alternately at his wife and son, while shoving beef stroganoff into his face and chewing ferociously. His wife stared down at her plate, saying nothing, and Ricky tried to do the same. He jumped when his father's fist came crashing down on the tabletop. "Hey, Ricky! What the fuck happened to your show?!" he demanded. "I turned on your channel today, and they had some asshole talking about cars on instead!"
He'd thought long and hard on how to answer this question, and now he spoke the lie he'd invented quickly. "I got fired! My station got too many complaints about what I was talking about," he babbled, and they were forced to fire me. But I've already gotten another job, Dad. I'm a DJ at a music radio station. And I'm making more money than I did at my old job."
His father scowled at him. "So those commie bastards canned you for telling the truth?!" he spat. "I'd like to show them just how I feel about their PC crap."
Ricky felt a chill go through him at the thought of his father confronting his former station manager. "Well ,they had no choice, Dad," he replied hurriedly. "They wanted to keep me on the air, but the people who own the station wouldn't let them."
That set his father off on a long rant about 'the powers that be', making him relax a little. He'd heard many such rants before this, and all of them had been general. His father never did anything about people he hated generally, only those he'd taken a personal hate-on to. The knot in his throat and stomach eased a little bit, since he'd gotten away with his lie about being fired. He wasn't always the world's best liar, but he'd had to learn to be around his father because the consequences of the truth could be so disastrous.
He was happy to get away as quickly as he could afterward, kissing his mother on her cheek as he went out the door. His father didn't even bother to say goodbye, because he was sitting in his ratty recliner watching a football game and drinking beer. Ricky hoped that he wouldn't yell at or hit his mother, as he so often did when he was drunk. He wanted to stay to try to protect her, but the truth was that he'd never been able to do so in the past. His being there wouldn't stop his father from going ballistic, and he'd only take it out more savagely on his wife AFTER he'd given his son a set of impressive bruises, because Ricky had tried to stand up for her. He didn't want to make it harder for her, so he left.
He pulled out the address written on a piece of paper that he'd put in the pocket of his jacket. It was James' address; the cop had written it down for him last night at the hospital. Since he'd be getting out before Ricky's show ended, he'd wanted to give the address to him so that Ricky could go to his house and see him. And he really, REALLY wanted to see James right now. Being around a calm, strong, intelligent person like James made Ricky feel centered and relaxed. He never thought that he'd think that way about a gay person, but it was true. After that awful, tense dinner with his parents, he definitely needed to relax. He just hoped that James didn't feel put out about Ricky showing up at his house so soon after he'd gotten out of the hospital. He didn't want to bug the cop.
Ricky gnawed at his lip, but finally started his car and drove to the address written on the slip. If James seemed tired or unhappy about his presence, he'd leave quickly. it was a twenty minute drive, before he pulled up in front of a single-story house with white clapboard siding and black shutters on the windows. There was a neat front lawn and trimmed bushes, and a wind chime hung on the porch. It looked like a normal house, where a normal person lived. What had he been expecting? Rainbow siding and gay pride flags? James didn't seem to be the kind of person who would have those kind of things.
Ricky walked up to the porch and rapped on the door hesitantly. Nothing. He thought he'd better go. Perhaps James hadn't been released after all? But as he started to turn away, his shoulders slumping a little, he heard a familiar voice call out: "Just a sec."
The door swing slowly open, revealing James standing in the doorway. The cop was hunched over a bit, and moving with care. "Oh, hey, Ricky," he said casually.
"James. I hope I'm not bothering you..." he began uncertainly.
"No. Come on in. Would you like a beer?"
Ricky followed him inside the neat and tidy little house, finding himself waved toward a comfortable-looking couch. "You can drink beer?" he said in surprise, thinking about the cop's bullet wound.
"Nah, not right now. But I had some in my fridge before I got shot. Might as well not let it go to waste," James explained as he walked slowly into his kitchen to retrieve a bottle of beer for Ricky.
"Thanks," he said gratefully as he took the bottle, which James had opened for him.
The cop carefully settled himself into the leather armchair across from the couch. It faced the large flat-screen TV set sitting on a table. "So how was your first day at your new job?" he asked.
"Good," Ricky replied. sipping at the beer. "Really good, in fact. The station manager was impressed."
"That's great." James said, sounding sincerely pleased for him. Once again, Ricky was in silent awe for this man who didn't hate him when he had every reason to. Perhaps one day, he could be even half the man that James Belmont was. With work and effort and lots of dedication, just maybe he could become someone like James. Instead of turning into a younger copy of his father...dear God, Ricky REALLY didn't want to turn into his father...
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Chapter 6
"Well, folks, this is Rockin' Ricky Raynes, signing off for today. Hope everybody has a nice drive home," he pushed the microphone away from his face, as the tech gave him a silent 'thumb's up' sign. Ricky felt a shiver of delight go through him. His first show as a real DJ was done, and he'd killed it! He'd been funny, full of energy, completely on. He still felt a bit twitchy as he stood up and left the booth, where the station manager was waiting for him.
"That was a good show, Mr. Raynes," the manager remarked. "I'm impressed. If you continue like this, I'll be happy to make you a permanent member of our team."
"Thank you, Mr. Cabrera. I really appreciate you giving me this chance," Ricky said fervently.
A nod. "I'll see you tomorrow, Mr. Raynes. Have a good night."
"I will. And you too," Ricky said, before he left the radio station. Much as he didn't want to go, he had a dinner date with his parents. He didn't dare not go, because his father would come to see him again to express his unhappiness with Ricky. ` He shuddered as he remembered incidents from the past where his father had expressed his unhappiness with him, and he definitely didn't want a repeat.
Twenty minutes later he pulled into the driveway of his parents' home. His mouth felt dry, and his nerves were on edge as he went up the walk. He knocked on the door, and it was opened by his mother. "Ricky," she said with a wan smile. "Come on in."
"Hey, Mom," he said, entering the door. "I've come to dinner. Dad said you wanted me to come."
"Sure. I just wanted to make sure that you're all right after that bank robbery," she said, looking him up and down.
"I am," Ricky told her.
She nodded, then led the way into the kitchen. Under the unflattering kitchen light, the lines in Sarah Raynes' face showed up starkly. Her graying hair was pulled back severely from her face, and she wore a faded flower-print blouse and a denim skirt. Her dead eyes never quite met his as she moved around the kitchen, finishing dinner. "Your dad will be home soon," she said. "He's out with friends."
Out drinking, of course. Roger tended to come home drunk more often than he did sober. Which never stopped him from driving, of course...why he hadn't killed anybody yet, Ricky didn't know. The man just had the luck of the Devil. "Sit down there, Ricky, while I finish dinner," his mother said, pointing at a stool.
He sat obediently, knowing better than to offer to help her cook dinner. That was a woman's job, even though he'd tried protesting in the past that he cooked for himself now that he lived alone. She'd simply say that he needed to find some nice girl and settle down, so that he didn't have to cook or clean for himself anymore. And he had no argument against that, because he'd always wanted to find some nice girl and settle down into cozy domesticity. So far, though, none of his relationships had ever worked out. He wasn't sure why. Maybe it was his father's genes in him? Maybe some of Roger's hateful poison had settled into his veins, and girls could somehow see that? Or maybe meeting their future father-in-law is what drove them away, because they were afraid that Ricky would ultimately become his father?
He steeled himself for the inevitable question that his mother asked him every time he came to visit his parents. "Are you seeing anyone, Ricky?"
"Uh, no, Mom, not right now," he said apologetically.
She gave him a chiding look as she stirred the pot on the stove top. "You need to find a nice girl and settle down, Ricky," she said, just as she did every time.
"I know, Mom. I just haven't met the right person yet," he replied, just as HE did every time.
She sighed, turning back to her pot. Ricky felt guilty. He knew that his mother wanted a daughter-in-law to talk to and maybe even become friends with. Also, she longed for grandkids. Grandkids would be better than children, because they'd be raised away from her husband where Roger couldn't abuse them. She could love them without being afraid of what her husband was going to do to them. Ricky knew that, and he'd always wanted to give that to her. He worried often about what kind of father he'd be, after being raised by Roger Raynes. But he still wanted kids. He just had to find the right woman, if she even existed...
A bang, a crash, and Roger stormed into the kitchen with a black scowl on his face. "Boy, you parked your damn car in my space!" he barked. "Go and move it right now!"
He jumped up as though he'd been stung. "Yes, Dad," he said meekly, scurrying out to move his car. If he'd hesitated at all, his father would have helped him along with a boot to his ass. And Roger had steel-toed boots, literally. He'd had more than one bruised tailbone from contact with those nasty boots.
He sat at the table later and tried not to choke on his food. The tension in the air was palpable, because Roger was half-drunk and in a bad mood. He was glaring alternately at his wife and son, while shoving beef stroganoff into his face and chewing ferociously. His wife stared down at her plate, saying nothing, and Ricky tried to do the same. He jumped when his father's fist came crashing down on the tabletop. "Hey, Ricky! What the fuck happened to your show?!" he demanded. "I turned on your channel today, and they had some asshole talking about cars on instead!"
He'd thought long and hard on how to answer this question, and now he spoke the lie he'd invented quickly. "I got fired! My station got too many complaints about what I was talking about," he babbled, and they were forced to fire me. But I've already gotten another job, Dad. I'm a DJ at a music radio station. And I'm making more money than I did at my old job."
His father scowled at him. "So those commie bastards canned you for telling the truth?!" he spat. "I'd like to show them just how I feel about their PC crap."
Ricky felt a chill go through him at the thought of his father confronting his former station manager. "Well ,they had no choice, Dad," he replied hurriedly. "They wanted to keep me on the air, but the people who own the station wouldn't let them."
That set his father off on a long rant about 'the powers that be', making him relax a little. He'd heard many such rants before this, and all of them had been general. His father never did anything about people he hated generally, only those he'd taken a personal hate-on to. The knot in his throat and stomach eased a little bit, since he'd gotten away with his lie about being fired. He wasn't always the world's best liar, but he'd had to learn to be around his father because the consequences of the truth could be so disastrous.
He was happy to get away as quickly as he could afterward, kissing his mother on her cheek as he went out the door. His father didn't even bother to say goodbye, because he was sitting in his ratty recliner watching a football game and drinking beer. Ricky hoped that he wouldn't yell at or hit his mother, as he so often did when he was drunk. He wanted to stay to try to protect her, but the truth was that he'd never been able to do so in the past. His being there wouldn't stop his father from going ballistic, and he'd only take it out more savagely on his wife AFTER he'd given his son a set of impressive bruises, because Ricky had tried to stand up for her. He didn't want to make it harder for her, so he left.
He pulled out the address written on a piece of paper that he'd put in the pocket of his jacket. It was James' address; the cop had written it down for him last night at the hospital. Since he'd be getting out before Ricky's show ended, he'd wanted to give the address to him so that Ricky could go to his house and see him. And he really, REALLY wanted to see James right now. Being around a calm, strong, intelligent person like James made Ricky feel centered and relaxed. He never thought that he'd think that way about a gay person, but it was true. After that awful, tense dinner with his parents, he definitely needed to relax. He just hoped that James didn't feel put out about Ricky showing up at his house so soon after he'd gotten out of the hospital. He didn't want to bug the cop.
Ricky gnawed at his lip, but finally started his car and drove to the address written on the slip. If James seemed tired or unhappy about his presence, he'd leave quickly. it was a twenty minute drive, before he pulled up in front of a single-story house with white clapboard siding and black shutters on the windows. There was a neat front lawn and trimmed bushes, and a wind chime hung on the porch. It looked like a normal house, where a normal person lived. What had he been expecting? Rainbow siding and gay pride flags? James didn't seem to be the kind of person who would have those kind of things.
Ricky walked up to the porch and rapped on the door hesitantly. Nothing. He thought he'd better go. Perhaps James hadn't been released after all? But as he started to turn away, his shoulders slumping a little, he heard a familiar voice call out: "Just a sec."
The door swing slowly open, revealing James standing in the doorway. The cop was hunched over a bit, and moving with care. "Oh, hey, Ricky," he said casually.
"James. I hope I'm not bothering you..." he began uncertainly.
"No. Come on in. Would you like a beer?"
Ricky followed him inside the neat and tidy little house, finding himself waved toward a comfortable-looking couch. "You can drink beer?" he said in surprise, thinking about the cop's bullet wound.
"Nah, not right now. But I had some in my fridge before I got shot. Might as well not let it go to waste," James explained as he walked slowly into his kitchen to retrieve a bottle of beer for Ricky.
"Thanks," he said gratefully as he took the bottle, which James had opened for him.
The cop carefully settled himself into the leather armchair across from the couch. It faced the large flat-screen TV set sitting on a table. "So how was your first day at your new job?" he asked.
"Good," Ricky replied. sipping at the beer. "Really good, in fact. The station manager was impressed."
"That's great." James said, sounding sincerely pleased for him. Once again, Ricky was in silent awe for this man who didn't hate him when he had every reason to. Perhaps one day, he could be even half the man that James Belmont was. With work and effort and lots of dedication, just maybe he could become someone like James. Instead of turning into a younger copy of his father...dear God, Ricky REALLY didn't want to turn into his father...
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