Clean Cut

Part Five
Meeting Clive

Bryant lay in bed, listening. The snores drifting down the hallway had settled into deep, even rasps. These were a better indicator of deep sleep than REMs. Priory would sleep heavily for another three hours or so, then (since he'd had that second beer) he would get up to pee, probably banging his foot along the way. He'd swear (at half volume). Oe wae way back he'd pause outside Bryant's door and peer through the beaded curtain to be sure that he wasn't indulging in anything illicit (like reading, listening to the radio, or jerking off without permission). n, sn, since he {b}had{/b} had that second beer and there was work tomorrow, he'd go back to bed instead of coming in.

This had been the pattern for the three years Bryant had lived with Priory, and he would have been damn near astonished if it had varied. The fact that Priory was so fucking {b}predictable{/b} was the only thing that had kept Bryant going for the last year. He'd used the man's never changing habits to find little ways around the thousands of restrictions.

Bryant got out of bed and slipped his hand into his pillowcase. He felt around till he found the slip of paper that Trenton had given him that afternoon. Bryant padded softly into the kitchen, bypassing the living room extension, even though Priory would be unlikely to hear him. {i}Better safe, and all that.{/i}

He studied the slip, memorizing the number, then quickly dialed. While he listened to the first burr of the ring, he lightly stroked the strip of paper over his lips, remembering the way Trenton's tongue had peeked from the corner of his mouth while he was concentrating.

There was the click of a receiver being lifted and a sleep-roughened voice said, "It's before midnight, so I'll let you live, but you had {b}damn{/b} sure better have a good reason for calling."

Bryant couldn't help smiling at the grumpiness in the voice. "Is Trenton Vittelli there?"

There was a rustling sound--someone moving under sheets. "Not tonight. Tonight he's home with the lovely Lynette."

"Oh."

Now the voice was darkly amused. "That's his mother, pet. You're one of Trenton's friends?"

"Yes." Thinking the man might take things the wrong way, he said hastily, "Just a friend."

There wasn't a thread of suspicion in the voice. "Of course. This would be Bryant, then, would it?"

"Yes--Bryant McAllister. I'm on the swim team with Trent."

"I know, pet--he's told me. I'm Clive, Trent's significant other." Bryant felt a flutter in his stomach at the casual statement. Priory was so adamant that Bryant was not to refer to their relationship in public, except to acknowledge Priory as his coach and landlord. Clive was continuing. "Is there anything I can help you with? Take a message, perhaps?" Bryant thought. "Hurry up, darling, or I {b}will{/b} get miffed. I'm supposed to go over the books early tomorrow morning with my accountant, and I'll need all my strength to resist strangling the anal little weasel."
yantyant smothered a laugh. "I just wanted to confirm that I can make it tomorrow. That {b}is{/b} all right, isn't it?"

"It's splendid. I'm always pleased when Trent brings over a school friend. The boy spends most of his time away from school at Attitudes, and the company there is sometimes a bit mature. It's good for him to be around others in his own age bracket. Plan to stay the evening, and we'll do something for supper."

"Thanks."

"Don't mention it, precious. Now, if you don't mind, Morpheus calls. Sweet dreams."

There was a click, then the steady burr of a closed line. Bryant put the receiver down gently, trying to recall the last time anyone had wished him sweet dreams. {b}Had{/b} anyone ever wished him sweet dreams? He made his way silently into the living room, but half-way to the hall he froze.

There was a shuffle, and the sound of someone's shoulder impacting as Priory swayed into a wall. Bryant froze, then quickly flattened himself against the near wall, holding his breath. {i}{b}Fuck!{/b} He must've gotten a third beer after I went into my room.{/i} Priory lumbered past the archway, headed for the bathroom at the far end of the hall. He never spared a glance at the living room.

Bryant, heart thudding, waited till he heard the creak of the bathroom door, then the tiny waterfall sound of Priory peeing. {i}Thank God he never turns on the lights. Maybe I'll make it.{/i}

Bryant tiptoed quickly to his room, took a handful of bead strands, and stealthily lifted them aside. There were muted clicks, but the sound probably wouldn't reach to the bathroom and if it did, hopefully Pri would be too sleend tnd too fixated on emptying his bladder to note it. Once in his room Bryant lowered the strands back in place, trying to get them as motionless as possible. He heard the grunts that signaled that Priory was shaking off. They were easily recognizable--part of his 'training' had been 'bathroom duty'. He'd probably assisted Priory with clean-up more often than Pri's own father had back when the coach had worn diapers.

Bryant slipped into bed and jerked the covers up, settling himself on the pillow and draping his hair half over his face. Then he forced his body to relax and closed his eyes till they were no more than slits.

There was no flushing, and Bryant mentally cursed. Another little present for him when he had to clean the bathroom. The man was a pig. Priory's footsteps moved closer, then paused. Bryant could make out the hulking shape of Priory Lowell standing just outside the beaded curtain, staring in at him. He kept his breathing deep and even.

When Priory didn't move, Bryant shifted slightly, as if searching for a more comfortable posit {i {i}What the hell excuse am I gonna give if he doesn't buy it?{/i} He couldn't claim a midnight snack, since those were forbidden. If he wanted a drink of water there was a glass on his bathroom sink, so that was bust. After his last venture out into the backyard to just look at the night sky Priory had put a padlock on the back door. {i}And he slapped me a good black eye and split lip that time. If he finds out I used the phone...{/i}

Bryant's pulse started to slow down as Priory moved down the hall. He listened as the older man slammed his foot into the door frame, swore, then settled back into bed. In minutes the snores had resumed, and he breathed a sigh of relief, then smiled up into the darkness. {i}Not as fucking perceptive as you like to think, eh, Pri?{/i}

{center}~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~{/center}

Trenton was drinking the last of the milk from his cereal bowl when the phone rang. He answered, "Vittelli residence."

"Hello, I'm looking for a gorgeous eighteen year oly why who enjoys swimming, dramatics, and cocksucking for the right person."

Trenton grinned. "That would be me. Good morning, Clive."

"Good morning, lover. How's your mom?"

"She's in the shower. She had a date last night, and I think it went well. She's singing."

"Fabulous. I had a call last night from Bryant McAllister. He says that this evening is a go."

"Great! Is it all right if I bring him by Attitudes before we go to the apartment'd l'd like to introduce him to you and my mom."

"Wonderful idea, pet. You know, the whole time he talked to me last night, he whispered. It was as if he were afraid of waking someone."

"That'd be Coach Lowell. Bryant boards with him."

"{b}Boards{/b} with him? Good lord, that sounds positively turn of the century."

Trenton shrugged, even though Clive wasn't there to see it. "That's what I heard. Bryant was a foster care system kid for a long time. They were just going to kick him loose when he turned eighteen, but Coach Lowell had taken an interest in him when he was sixteen or seventeen, after seeing him swim in a citywide meet. I think he even helped arrange Bryant's scholarship. You knowvingving someone in the system who's interested and pulling for you can make a lot of difference." Trenton himself had been offered a full scholarship, but it had been to an out of state college. After discussing his options with his mother and Clive, he'd taken a partial scholarship at the local university instead.

"l dol doesn't quite explain the hushed tones, darling."

"Why not? He probably didn't want to wake Coach Lowell."

"Do {b}you{/b} whisper when you're on the phone if you aren't in the room with someone?"

"Well, no. I may not talk as loud, but I don't whisper."

"So, if the coach wasn't napping in the kitchen or living room, that means that if Bryant was whispering out of consideration for his slumber, he must've been beside the man, in a bedroom of some sort."

"Oh."

"Yes--oh. Well, it's none of my business, of course. After all," his voice was warm, "if they are a couple, Lowell isn't the only man in Metropolis who has a much younger lover."

"Anyone I know?"

"Brat. Yes, bring him by. I'll bring something home from Lavender's Green for dinner. When I tell Elise she'll be cooking for {b}another{/b} gorgeous man besides you and I, she'll lay it on thick."

"Elise always lays it on thick. She's still trying to plump me up--she admits it. I keep telling her I just burn it off, but she says she loves a challenge. I think she likes to see people eat as much as some people like sex."

"We all have our kinks, darling. Her's benefits many, many people. See you this afternoon, precious."

"Later, lover."

{center}~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~enteenter}

Bryant was on edge all day, nervous that Priory might change his mind, just to be perverse. It wouldn't be the first time he'd promised Bryant something that he was really looking forward to, then reneged at the last moment, simply to demonstrate that he was in charge.

He tried to anticipate any possible excuse Priory could have. He'd gotten up an hour early and given the house a quick once over. He was lucky that the poker buddies were going to a pizza place before the game, so Bryant didn't have to cook for Priory. Bryant skipped lunch to practice, doing an extra five laps above his usual number.

His last class was swimming, shared with the rest of the swim team. He met Trenton outside the gym. Trenton smiled at him as he came up the steps, saying, "I talked with Clive. I'm glad you can make it. Can you leave right after class, or do you need to go home?"

"No, I can go straight from here, but Trent, I need you to do me a favor."

"Sure, what is it?"

"I need you to not mention this in class, okay?"

Trenton studied him, saying slowly, "Sure, I can do that."

Bryant said hastily, "It's not that I'm ashamed that I'm going to be visiting you, please don't think that."

Trenton shook his head. "I didn't."

The older boy looked relieved. "Good. I can't explain it, but it's just better if no one knows. And if I'm a little stand-offish, it doesn't mean anything."

"Okay." Trenton patted his arm reassuringly. "Don't worry about it, Bryant."

The class went off without incident. As usual, Bryant spoke only when absolutely necessary. Trenton followed Bryant's wishes by paying no attention to him. After class the entire class showered and dressed quickly, anxious to get to their after-class freedom.

Trenton was sitting on a bench, tying his laces, when Coach Lowell walked past and turned into the next dressing space. He heard him say, "Did you do your exercise today, McAllister?"

"Yes, sir, plus a few extra laps." Trenton heard a grunt, as if for some reason, the answer didn't entirely please Coach Lowell. Then Bryant said quietly, "I just want to thank you again for your generosity, sir. I'm really grateful for the opportunity you're giving me tonight." There was another grunt, then Coach Lowell exited the dressing area and walked back to his office.

Trenton finished stuffing his things in his gym bag and went out to wait on the bench in front of the gym. Bryant came out a few minutes later. Trenton sat up a bit straighter, but Bryant mouthed the word 'please'. Coach Lowell was right behind him. Trenton pretended to fiddle with his bag while Bryant walked past without a word or look, crossing toward the student union. Coach Lowell stood for a moment, watching him. Trenton piped up, "Hi, Coach."

Lowell flicked a glance at Trenton, then returned his gaze to Bryant. "Hello, Vittelli. Good 50 yard sprint today. You're improving on your push off."

"Thank you. I'm working on it."

"Keep it up and you'll make the cut for the Olympic's trials. I expect to send at least two of you boys this year."

"Maybe three, huh? Marshall and Bryant are both doing real well, too."

He turned cool eyes on Trenton. "We'll see." He hitched his belt up. "It's my decision, and there's more to be considered than just speed. Attitude is real important."

"I couldn't agree more." Lowell nodded, looking satisfied, and strolled off. Trenton's eyes followed the stocky figure, and he thought, {i}Though we might have different opinions on what constitutes an acceptable attitude.{/i} When Lowell disappeared around the corner of a building, headed for a parking lot, Trenton got up and started toward the student union.

Bryant was waiting just inside, peering through the tinted glass windows. "You were terrific, Trenton. Thanks."

"No trouble. I kind of enjoyed it, since I'm sort of a ham." He hesitated, then said, "Look, I know we're not really close or anything, but I'd like to be your friend, Bryant. That means you can tell me things, and they won't go anywhere outside of," he tapped his head, "here. I'm not pushing, but anytime you feel ready, I'm a great listener."

Bryant stared at him. He hadn't given confidences to anyone for a long, long time. It was too dangerous. But now... He looked at Trenton's open expression, the honest concern that shone in his eyes. "Thanks, Trent. I'll remember that."

"Great. Now, c'mon--the bus will be here any minute."

The bus was just pulling up as they came to the stop. Trenton went ahead, dropping a token in the box and starting down the aisle. Behind him he heard the bus driver say, "I can't change that, man."

"That's all I have."

"I can't change it. The sign says nothing larger than a five. C'mon the fare's only a buck-fifty. Don't you have change?"

Bryant's voice was tense. "I told you, no. It's all I have."

"Well, you'll just have to go get change and catch the next bus."

Trenton walked back and dropped another token in the box. "C'mon, Bryant."

"I have money, Trent. You don't have to pay my way." There was a flush of embarrast ant and anger rising in Bryant's cheeks.

"Look, kid, I've got a schedule to keep. On or off," the driver snapped.

"Bryant, it's all right. You can pay me back."

Scowling, Bryant mounted the steps. The bus driver shut the doors so abruptly that he barely missed catching the boy's foot. Trenton moved back and put a hand on Bryant's back, urging him back into the bus. The driver said, "Go sit down, kid, so I can get going."

Trenton leaned over his shoulder. "Look, Mister," he glanced at the license mounted on the visor, "Claudio Durgins, license number 1020354. Maybe you've forgotten, but part of your job is being not only {b}decent{/b}, but actually {b}pleasant{/b} to your passengers. Yes, you have rules, but I don't think your supervisors mean for you to do nothing but follow them and not cream pedestrians. Are you familiar with the concept of the 'secret shopper'? Someone hired by a company to go around testing the efficiency and courtesy of employees? Are you familiar with the concept of a 'secret passenger'?" Durgins had started to sweat. Trenton patted him on the shoulder and whispered, "I'm sure you'll do your best." He went back and sat beside a now smiling Bryant.

The driver kept casting nervous glances in his rear view mirror, toward the pair. Bryant muttered, "Trenton, you're not majoring in drama, are you?"

"Nope. Double major--cosmetology and business."

Bryant blinked. "You're not joking, are you?"

"Nope. You'll understand after you learn about Attitudes. I'm shooting for a partnership."

When it was time for them to get off, the driver said brightly, "Thank you for your patronage, sir. Watch your step, and have a nice day."

Trenton gave him a cheerful wave. "Drive carey." y." He hefted his gym bag up on his shoulder and patted Bryant on the shoulder. "Right over here."
Attitudes was between a furniture store and a deli. The frontage was stylish glass brick, with large windows. Through them Bryant could see what looked like a typical, if elegantly appointed, beauty salon.

Trenton led the way in. The moment they entered there was a cheerful chorus of greetings from beauticians and customers alike. They walked back into the shop. A tiny, elderly lady, her hair done up in what looked like strips of aluminum foil waved eagerly, and Trenton went over, grinning. She piped, "Hey, Trent! Got any sugar for me?"

"For you, Miz Havasnark? Always!" He dropped a kiss on her cheek.

She looked at Bryant with lively interest. "And who's this pretty man?"

Trenton laughed. "You flirt! This is my friend, Bryant McAllister. He's going to be spending the evening with me at Clive's," he made a swooping motion with his hand, "surfin' the net."

"Oh, isn't that just the most WONDERFUL invention?" she burbled at Bryant. "I just love it! I have the Chippendale Gallery on my Favorites list."

Trenton grinned at Bryant. "Bri, give her a kiss, or she'll never let us pass." Bryant pressed a kiss to her soft, wrinkled cheek. "Watch her, Bryant. She'll pinch your butt, given half a chance. C'mon."

Bryant followed Trenton farther into the shop, to a station where a pleasant looking middle aged woman was taking a woman's hair out of rollers. "Bryant, this is my mom--Lynette. Mom, Bryant McAllister. You know, my team mate."

"Why, of course! I'm so pleased to meet you, Bryant. Trent tells me that you've helped him so much with his swimming this year." Bryant gave her a puzzled look. Aside from the classes together, he'd only practiced with Trenton that one time. "He says that using you as a standard, and pitting his performance against yours has really inspired him to greater efforts."

Bryant looked at Trenton, who shrugged sheepishly. "Mom, is Clive in?"

"Yes, honey. He's in his station giving the deli's delivery boy a new hairdo. You know how much those ol' floppy bangs bothered him. He's been in there about three-quarters of an hour."

Trenton laughed, and explained to Bryant, "Jake from next door. He had a kind of English sheepdog thing going, and Clive says it gives him hives just looking at it. He's been trying to talk Jake into his private station for a month." He led Bryant back to a plain, unmarked door at the very back of the room. "Have a seat. He shouldn't be much longer." They sat. "So, I'm taking more courses next semester. Any tips on who's easy, who's good, and who to avoid?"

There was a muffled squeal from behind the door. Eyeing it distractedly, Bryant said, "I don't socialize much."

"Bri, I meant the teachers."

"Oh. Um..."

Another squeal. Faintly he heard a voice, gradually rising, "Oh... oh... {b}Oh! Oh! {i}CLIVE!{/i}{/b}"

Trenton flicked a glance at the door, then looked back at Bryant, amused. "You'd never know it. Jake doesn't usually say two words past telling you how much your order is. Shouldn't be long now. How about math? I want to take number theory, and I hear it's a bear. Any professor have a rep for being particularly patient?"

"I... Professor Wilkins is pretty laid back."

The door opened. A young man who's dark, gleaming hair was parted in the center to fall back in two smooth waves came out. He shuffled toward the front, a bemused smile on his face, his expression somehow both energized and peaceful.

The man he'd seen in the car with Trenton followed him out, calling, "Tell Monique it's five dollars, and I'll expect you back every month for a touch-up."

"Yes, sir."

Clive patted the boy on the butt. "Good boy. And be so good as to bring over a cheesecake," He looked at Trenton, smiling. "Any preference, love?"

Trenton looked at Bryant. "They make a terrific raspberry crunch swirl, or the ammaretto's pretty good. Then there's always the chocolate chip, strawberry and cherry." His forehead wrinkled. "What did I forget?"

"Plain, precious," said Clive, amused. He smiled at Bryant. "Trenton is intimately acquainted with Flaubert's cheesecake."

Bryant said, "Raspberry?"

Clive tapped him on the shoulder. "Don't sound so doubtful, dear. Speak your preferences boldly. That will be one raspberry crunch swirl cheesecake, Jake. Put it on my tab." Jake was smiling at Bryant. Clive patted his bottom. "Toddle off, darling." Jake nodded, ambling off, and Clive turned his attention back to Bryant. "Trenton, now that dessert is settled, are you going to introduce me to yoew few friend?"

"Clive, this is Bryant McAllister, from my swim team. Bryant, this is Clive." He tucked his arm through Clive's. "My man." Speechless, Bryant shook hands.

Clive gave him a thorough once over. "Pleased to meet you, Bryant. I do hope you won't take offense, but your roots are growing out." Bryant blushed hotly. "Oh, dear, I've embarrassed you. I don't mean to, pet. It's natural for me to notice."

"Yeah, Bryant. No one would notice it except Clive," Trenton assured him.

"They aren't very long yet, and they aren't very dark, but they WILL be noticeable soon," Clive continued. He cocked his head. "Are you absolutely sure you're happy with that color, dear? Or rather the lack of color."

"It's the color it has to be." Bryant {b}hated{/b} the platinum blonde, bleached-out look that Priory insisted on.

"Mm. Well, if you decide to go back to your normal color, let me know. At least you seem to be using a proper conditioner on it, but if you keep up with that sort of treatment it's bound to damage it."

Trenton said, "If you're wondering why I don't say something about how it's rude for him to comment on your appearance..."

"You see," said Clive, "Hair is my profession, my avocation, and my burning passion. I'd have to be gagged to keep from talking about it, and while I have no objections to gags on the whole..." He shrugged.

"I better get Bryant out of here before he runs away," said Trenton.

"Oh, Bryant isn't the running type," Clive turned a sharp, but friendly gaze on Bryant, "Are you?"

{i}Am I?,{/i} thought Bryant. {i}Pri says I am. He says I'm always trying to run away from my responsibilities, from what I am. But Pri doesn't know me like he thinks he does.{/i} "No," Bryant felt a little surprised. There'd only been that brief flash before he'd answered, no real thought or consideration. He looked at Clive again and said more firmly, "No, I'm not."

Clive watched the two young men walk back to the front of the shop and go out onto the street. He murmured, "No, you're not, but there was just the {b}teensiest{/b} bit of hesitation in that reply." {i}Methinks pretty Bryant might be just a tad confused. Mmm. I think Bri may need to be, pardon the expression, straightened out.{/i} He smiled. {i}What a perfectly pleasant prospect.{/i}