Westpoint Tales
by Kiwi
Christian & Roman's Tale - 5
The day after the engraved invitations had been hand-delivered, Roman had not heard from Christian; he was looking for him at school but couldn't find him anywhere. That was nothing unusual, the kid hid in corners, like a mouse.
He opened his locker and the first thing he saw was the white envelope of a party invitation that had been posted through the air vent. He opened it and it was what he feared it would be - Christian's invitation returned with the 'declined with regret' box neatly ticked.
This box was merely a formality, no-one had ever declined an invitation to the Dallas' party, until now. He couldn't believe his eyes. This was not part of his plan! He went looking for Christian.
He found sitting, alone of course, under the pine trees at the west side of the school.
"Here you are, Christian! What the hell is this?"
"Hey Roman. It's an invitation to your party."
"I can see that. It's your invitation. What did you send it back for?"
"I ticked the box - declined with regret. Thanks for asking me, but I can't come. You'll have to invite someone else."
"I don't want to invite someone else, I want you to come. You're the only person that I sent a personal invitation to this year."
"Really?"
"Yes really, so you have to come."
"No, Roman. I can't. Thanks but no thanks."
"But you have to. I need you there. If you don't come, I'll be on my own all day."
"Welcome to my world. But, seriously, all you have to do is invite someone else. Anyone would be happy to come to your party."
"But not you?"
"No, not me."
"Well, why not then? Why won't you come? Don't you like me?"
"That's got nothing to do with it. I've got my world, you've got yours and I don't belong there. It's as simple as that. We've got to go, school's going in. 'Bye Roman."
Roman was amazed. He was also more than a little pissed. This was not going according to his plan.
"Fuck school! Forget about school, this is important. We're talking here."
"We've done talking, there's nothing more to say. You might get away with cutting classes, but I would not. I've got to go. See you later, Roman."
"But . . but . . .you - all right then, go. But we haven't finished this; I'll talk to you later."
"My answer won't change. Why don't you pay Patrick Bentham to come to your party?"
He walked away, leaving Roman standing there lost for words.
'Pay Patrick Bentham? Oh shit! You know. How do you know about that? Damm! This is not going well.'
All day long he was stewing. Christian seemed to be avoiding him, or ignoring him when he couldn't, and he didn't get to talk to him again. Roman was not used to this. At home he was always under the thumb, but at school, he was the king.
He basically did whatever he liked, within reason, and he had never had any trouble getting on with anyone he wanted to. Everyone wanted to be friends with the scion of the Dallas family, but now - not Christian. Who did the little twerp think he was?
He was nothing but a loser and Roman was, well, he was Roman Dallas! How dare he turn him down? Didn't he know that Roman could destroy him?
But, could he? It didn't seem like Christian's life could be much worse anyway. Why didn't he want to go to the party? Everybody wanted to go to the Dallas' Christmas party.
Fuck him anyway. (And he would, as soon as he figured out how to).
He skipped football practice after school. That was a first - he never missed a practice before, but - whatever. Today, he had other things on his mind. It appeared that he'd missed Christian, he couldn't see him anywhere around, so he got in his car and cruised the streets, searching for him, with no success.
Finding himself outside the Squires' home, he parked in the street and walked in and rang the bell. A woman answered the door. Christian's mother, he presumed.
"Hello. Mrs. Squires is it? I'm looking for Christian. Is he here?"
"No, not yet. You're Roman Dallas, aren't you?"
"Yes, Ma'am. That's me."
"And you are looking for Christian? Why? Oh, nevermind. He's not here anyway, he's at work and won't be home for a couple of hours yet."
"At work?"
"Yes. Shoveling shit around at the racecourse. It's not much and the pay's lousy, but it's the best job he could find."
"Oh. Well, thank you, Mrs. Squires. I'll catch up with him."
"You do that. And, Roman, thank you for inviting him to the Christmas party. My husband doesn't agree, but I think that it's great. This could do wonders for Christian's reputation; he doesn't have a lot of friends you know."
"I know. I'm hoping to change that. Well, thank you Mrs. Squires."
"You're welcome. Thank you, Roman."
He went back to the racecourse and drove in there. There was hardly anyone around; a couple of horses were training, out on the track, but he couldn't see Christian anywhere. So?
'Oh, yeah! He'll be in the stables if he's shoveling shit.'
He drove back out to the street, along and in to the entrance to the stables area. Out of the car and looking around at the long rows of cubicle-sheds, he still couldn't see him, but then, he heard him. There was singing coming from one of the stables.
"The Captain of the Lugger, He was a dirty Bugger,
He wasn't fit, To shovel shit,
From one hole to the other."
This was an old, crude, sea-shanty. The kid was singing the same verse, over and over again.
"Hey Christian." Roman stood in the doorway to the stable where Christian was busy shoveling a huge mound of straw and horseshit onto a wheelbarrow.
The Kid looked around and a big grin lit up his dirty, dusty, sweat-lined face.
"Roman! Hey. What are you doing here?"
"Looking for you, of course. I want to talk to you."
"Oh. Sorry, I can't right now. I've got to work, I don't get paid for talking."
He started shoveling again and Roman stood watching. He was amazed, the Kid looked great. He looked fantastic, actually. He had an incredible body. Amazing!
Barefoot and bare-headed, he was dressed only in tight, faded, blue-denim shorts, obviously made by cutting down some old blue jeans. He was covered in dirt, and dust, and sweat, and - muscles! Incredible muscles.
Stripped down, the small and slender teen looked like a miniature body-builder. Wow! There wasn't an ounce of fat on him and every muscle was clearly defined. He didn't have a six-pack abdomen - this boy had an eight-pack!
Roman was entranced. He'd never expected this, Christian's body was amazing. Amazing and beautiful. A really, really beautiful boy. He just had to have this kid!
"Wow, Christian! Where did you get that body?"
"What body?" He stopped again and leant on the shovel.
"It's just a body, Roman. Everyone's got one."
"Sure they have, but not like that. You look great. Where did you get those muscles?"
"They just grew. Hard work and clean living will do that."
"Certainly worked for you. I'm bigger than you and I work out with weights and stuff, but I haven't got muscle definition like you've got. You look great."
Christian's face went red. He flashed a shy smile and then hung his head as he mumbled.
"Thanks, I guess. But I don't look as good as you do."
He raised his head and looked him in the eye.
"Nobody looks as good as you, Roman."
"You think? You're wrong you know. How can you hide away like you do? You never play sports, you should. If you appeared in a Speedo, you'd be beating the girls off with a stick."
"Why would I want to do that? I'm gay you know."
"Well, you'd be beating the boys off then."
"Not likely. I'm just a dork; no-one wants to know me."
"They're fools then. I want to know you, Christian. I very much want to know you."
"You do? Enough to pay Bentham and his thugs to beat me up? Again."
"I'm sorry about that. Really sorry. That was the stupidest thing that I've done in my life. I didn't want them to beat you up; I just wanted them to hassle you a bit so that I could come and save you. I guess that I wanted to look like a hero to you. I'm sorry."
"Okay. Let's forget it then. You don't have to pay people to make you look good, you already do. You are a hero, a real hero. You always have been."
He blushed again and lifted his shovel.
"I've got to work, Roman. It's a shitty job and it doesn't pay much, but it's all I've got and I can't afford to lose it. Excuse me, please."
Roman felt that he could stand there all day, watching him working. The play of shadows and light moving across the small, tightly-muscled body was just beautiful. And so hot! How come he'd never noticed this boy before? He was gorgeous.
He would have liked to stand there all day, but he couldn't. He didn't have the time. He didn't dare be late home. They'd already be having a fit if they found out that he'd missed football practice.
"Christian, I've got to go. I wish I didn't, but I do. Are we all right then?"
He stopped, looked at him and sighed. "Yes, Roman, we're all right - as all right as we're ever going to be."
"Cool! So will you come to the Christmas party?"
"No. I told you, I can't."
"Of course you can. Please come, I want you to."
"I can't. We live in the same town, but we live in two different worlds. I'm a loser and I live in a dysfunctional, working-class family. You are . . well, You're Roman Dallas!"
"I wish to hell I wasn't."
"What? How can you say that? You've got everything and you're the perfect kid."
"I'm not perfect. Don't say that. I'm far from perfect and I don't have everything I want either."
"What then? What could you possibly want that you don't have now?"
"Lots. I want . . . I want you, Christian."
"Me? Really? Me??? How do you want me?"
"I want you like this."
Roman stepped forward and kissed him on the lips. Christian didn't respond. He stood rigid, and then he pulled back and looked him in the eye.
"Woo-Who," he whispered. "Any second now, you'll laugh in my face and then I'll wake up."
"You're not dreaming and I would never laugh at you. Look, I've really got to go or I'm in trouble. Can I phone you tonight, about 8 o'clock?"
"Of course you can; if you really want to."
"Oh, I do!"
He kissed him again and, this time, Christian responded enthusiastically, holding him tightly. They broke apart and grinned. Then Roman pecked his lips again.
"I've got to go. 'Bye, Beautiful boy. I'll talk to you later."
"Yeah. 'Bye, Roman. Thanks."
"Thanks? Thank you!"
He left in a hurry and Christian returned to his work, smiling to himself. He loved it when a plan came together. Roman Dallas wanted him? They were nearly there, but not quite. Not yet.
Christian had a plan.
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