Westpoint Tales
by Kiwi
Flight of The Toucan - Pt 3
Wednesday night was the quietest night for Toucan's show on the radio. Thursdays, everyone was gearing up for the weekend. Fridays WERE the weekend, and Saturdays? Saturdays Rocked. Anyway, on Wednesday night, Bryce rang the radio station. It was still listed in the book as "Westpoint Community Radio", of course it was. Nobody was going to go around town and change all the phonebooks.
On the third ring, he picked it up. "Hey, Gorgeous. You're talking to Toucan. Be nice now, because you're on the radio. This is a family show, so whatever you do, don't swear. You can't say "Bugger" on the radio. Oh, bugger! Who are we talking to?"
"Ah. . .Hello Toucan. This is Bryce."
"Bryce? Bryce who? Not the famous Bryce Hartigan?"
"Well. Yeah, that's me. I don't know about "famous" though."
"Of course you're famous Bryce. Blond hair, blue eyes, every young girl's dream. What can we do for you?"
"I don't know about that either, Toucan. But, can you play me a song?"
"Sure we can. That's what we do here. What song, Bryce?"
"Umm. It's an old song."
"That's okay. We don't mind old songs, as long as they're good songs."
"Cool. It's a romantic song."
"That's okay too. Time we had some mushy stuff. Come on, Bryce Hartigan. This is like pulling teeth here. What song do you want to hear?"
"It's - "I say a Little Prayer" by Dionne Warwick."
"I Say a Little Prayer. Yeah, we can do that. It should be clearly understood though, Dionne Warwick is absolutely no relation to Colin and Linda Warwick. They're my bosses and they're good guys, but they can't sing for nuts. Trust me."
"Thanks Toucan I love you, Toucan."
"Hugs for you too, Bryce. Listen up and we'll play it when we find it."
"Okay. Thanks. And could you dedicate it to someone - someone special."
"We can do that too. Who's special to the gorgeous Bryce?"
"Ah.. I'd rather not say on the radio, but their initials are "R.K."
"Oh.. A man of mystery. Who could R.K. be?"
"Think about it, Toucan. You know who. Second name's Keenan. Thanks, bye, love you, Toucan."
For once in his life, Toucan was lost for words, but he soon recovered.
"Come on, music. Play, damn you. Don't say "bugger," Toucan. You can't say bugger on the radio."
His hands were shaking as he lined up the turntable. The record started and he sat back watching it spin. His mind was spinning too. That had thrown him. R.K.? R.Keenan? There was only one family of Keenans in Westpoint that he knew of, and only two of them had the initials R.K. - his dad and himself..
Bryce Hartigan wouldn't be dedicating lovesongs to his father, (Eww.) so that only left? No. Surely not.
When their paths crossed at school the next day, not a word was spoken but they exchanged shy glances and smiles. That night, Bryce rang the radio station again. It took three attempts and then he had to get past the guy on the panel, but he finally got through to Toucan.
"Here we go again. What gorgeous listener wants to talk to Toucan now?"
"Ah. It's me again. Hello Toucan."
"Hello Gorgeous. I can't see you, you know. What's your name?"
"It's Bryce. Thanks for playing the song last night."
"Oh, aren't you nice. No-one ever rings Toucan up and says "thank you", so thank you Bryce. Do you want to hear another song? I'm not playing the same one again."
"No. Yes. Yes I want another song, but not the same one. It's another old one."
"Another oldie. That's okay, as long as it's not crud. We don't play crud here. I'm picking that it's a mushy song for the romantic Bryce. So, what is it?"
"It's not mushy, but it is romantic. Sort of. It's a Phil Spector song."
"Screech! Great! Toucan LOVES Phil Spector songs."
"So do I. "Little Boy" by the Crystals."
"Little Boy? Boss song. And who's this one for?"
"Same as last night. Same as always. It's for R.K. Thanks Toucan. I love you, Toucan."
"Aah. Toucan loves you too. More than you know."
"Great. And Toucan? Listen to the words not the music, okay?"
"Well, we'll try, Bryce this is not in stereo you know."
When he found the track, (not hard to do.), Robbie made the dedication, B.H. to R.K., started it playing, and sat back watching the turntable as he listened to the words.
"Little Boy, You probably don't know this, but on the night we met you stole my heart away.
Little Boy, Can't help it if I show this, But I wish that you would love me too.
Just as much as I love you.
Then I know, you would see, that you were meant for me.
Little Boy, please let me be your little girl.
Little Boy, I hope that you believe me. But it would break my heart if you should walk away.
Little Boy, You say you'll never leave me, and I'll give my heart and soul to you.
Then you'll see my love is true.
Yes then I'll know you'll see, how much you mean to me.
Little Boy, please let me be your little girl.
I just want to go, every place that you go. And do everything that you do.
I just want to know, everyone that you know and spend my whole life loving you.
Yes then I know you'll see, how much you mean to me.
Little Boy, please let me be your little girl.
Little Boy. Little boy."
As the song played Robbie sat there listening to the words, not the music. His eyes were opened wide and his mouth hung open. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. THIS was the song, the message that Bryce Hartigan wanted played to R.K. - to R.Keenan?
This couldn't be true. Could it? There must be another R.Keenan in Westpoint. Some girl named Rachael or something? But. The name of the song was Little BOY. A little boy named R.Keenan? No. It must be a joke. Or, was it? This was not funny.
For twice in his life, Toucan was lost for words. The panel operator, seeing this, moved to avoid the all-time dread of every radio station - dead time on the air. After the adverts, finished, he started another song. By the time that song had finished, Robbie pulled himself together. He carried on with his show, but he was shaken, really shaken.
Was Bryce Hartigan, the Gorgeous Bryce Hartigan, gay? Was he saying that he loved him? It sounded like it. How was he going to find out for sure?
He carried on, talking and playing, but his mind was not on the job. Then he had an idea. He'd pick the ball up and throw it right back to him. The eight o'clock newsbreak was coming up, as soon as that started, Robbie got on the phone and he rang Bryce's home. He knew where he lived, of course he did. He'd followed him home from school often enough hadn't he? He wasn't stalking him, he was just, curious. Bryce lived in a big old house right up at the end of Derby Street, past Kilairney Park and just before the beach road.
The phone rang once and a woman picked up. "Hello, Sandra Hartigan speaking."
(Damn. Don't be nervous now.) "Hello, ah, Mrs.Hartigan? Is Bryce there please?"
"Bryce? Yes, of course he is. Who shall I say is calling?"
"This is Toucan."
"Toucan? On the radio? Yeah, right. Very funny. Hold on, I'll get him.'
Bryce came on the phone, "Hello. Who is this?"
"Hello Bryce. This is Toucan."
"Ha ha. Pull the other .leg; it's got bells on it."
"No. I really am. We don't normally do this, but I wanted to make sure that you're still listening."
"Listening to Toucan? Of course I am, I'm always listening to Toucan. Well, I was until I had to come and answer the phone."
"Oh. Good. Go back to your radio, Bryce. There's something special coming up for you after the news."
"Really? Okay, I will. See you, so-called Toucan."
"Okay. Bye so-called Bryce."
The news, sports and adverts finished, and, "Screech! Toucan. Toucan! Toucan!! Enough of that stuff. We wouldn't play it at all, but we have to. It helps to pay the bills you know. Back to the music and it's love song time. Are you getting tired of silly love songs? Well I don't care, I'm not. Try this - O.oh, Toucan nearly messed up again. This here's a special dedication and it goes out to BH from RK. Okay, now the music. Paul McCartney and Wings. Toucan loves wings!"
He started the track and sat back smiling, 'Take that, Bryce Hartigan.'
"You'd think the people would have had enough of silly love songs.
I look around me and I see it isn't so.
Some people want to fill the world with silly love songs,
And what's wrong with that? I'd like to know. 'Cos here I go - Again.
I love you. I love you .I love you. I love you."
Robbie wished that he could see Bryce's beautiful face right then. If he could have, he would not have been disappointed. Bryce was standing in his room, eyes closed and hugging himself as he swayed to the music. A tear rolled down his cheek, he was feeling so emotional. "Love isn't silly at all."
The song finished and Toucan carried on talking, taking calls from listeners and laughing and joking. Bryce tried to call him back but the phone was engaged. He tried a couple more times, and then gave up. He'd see him at school tomorrow.
He did see him at school the next day, but only in the distance. Every time he tried to approach him, Robbie took off, almost running. By the time school was out Bryce was getting frustrated.
'Playing hard to get, Robbie K. No, that's the trouble - you really are hard to get close to.'
He walked home, alone, after school. Lost in thought and dragging his feet as he slowly progressed up to the end of Derby Street. When he turned into home, closing the high board-gate behind him, a movement caught his eye and he stopped at looked back through a crack in the gate. Robbie Keenan, also alone, was walking past his house. Robbie was there! Was he following him home from school? This wasn't the way to his home up on the main street.
He ran inside and up to his room where, from the front window, he saw Robbie disappearing up the graveled road to the beach. "Yes!" He dropped his school bag and hurried back downstairs again.
Out of the house, out of the gate, across the road and down to the beach he ran. At the end of the road he saw him, standing still, looking out at the beach. There was no-one else around.
Bryce ran up behind him as quietly as he could, running on tip-toes and on the side of the road where the gravel was firmest. He must have heard something, because he was starting to turn as Bryce reached him. He wrapped his arms around him from behind and held him tight.
"Gotcha!" Bryce exulted.
"Get off! What are you doing?" Robbie struggled and tried to get free.
"Don't, Robbie. I've got you now; don't run away from me again."
He could feel his heart beating, like a scared little animal in his arms. He pressed his lips on the back of his head and smelled his hair.
"It's all right, Little Boy. Really it is."
"Little Boy?" Robbie fought and managed to turn around so that they stood face to face.
"Bryce, what are you doing?" He looked really frightened.
"Doing?" Bryce smiled. "How about this?" He kissed him.
Robbie shivered all over. His arms came up and he hugged him and kissed him back.
"All right, Little Boy?" Bryce grinned when they broke apart.
"Oh yes! Bryce . . . I, I can't believe you did that."
"You can't? Believe this then." He kissed him again. Robbie responded beautifully and they shared a long, hungry and passionate embrace.
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