I shuffled along the brick path leading to my front porch, the iron gate clanged shut behind me. I glanced up at the stately white Victorian facade of my home, my sanctuary. "Casa Palms," we had named it, Marco and I. But that was over now, I had to go on alone. I stood at the front door, slowly turning the burnished brass knob, my mind wandering back to that first night Marco and I had seen the house - our dream for the future. We had been visiting Key West for a well earned weeks vacation, staying in one of the many guest houses that had sprung up throughout the old residential part of the city known appropriately as Old Town. On that fateful Friday, having dropped into every watering hole on Duval Street, we had finally called it a night. Arm in arm we had strolled back to our lodging place, feeling no pain, thoughts slowly turning to our nearing departure. We would soon be back to the working world of everyday life in Miami.
    Marco stopped suddenly to retie a stray shoelace, I glanced over at the darkened and foreboding house on our right, "What a shame, such a stately structure let go like that!"
    Marco glanced up from the pavement, "Yeah, it'd make a neat guest house. Wish we could afford it. I wouldn't have to go back to Miami and wait tables. We could be innkeepers."
    The thought rolled around in my head as we continued on our way. I loved my job, branch manager for one of Miami's leading mortuaries. But I could see that Marco deserved something better in life. Maybe we could work it out. Buy the place and fix it up, do the bed and breakfast thing.
    Well, we had worked it out. Mortgaged our home to the hilt and leased it out, sold my stocks and mutual funds, even liquidated the 401-K at work, suffering a heavy financial penalty in the process.
    I shook my head, trying to clear these thoughts from my mind as I pushed open the unlocked door and stepped into the darkened hallway. The cool draft of air descending the grand staircase carried a slight scent with it. Reminded me of Marco, his scent, the rich muskiness of his cologne. Couldn't be, however, as he had been sentenced to five years in a Florida correctional facility for transporting drugs.
    He had gotten caught in a blockade on the the seven mile bridge - that long stretch of concrete suspended over the waterway between two of the Florida keys. I had warned him he was going to get caught, but he wouldn't listen. The lure of easy money was too great a temptation for someone like Marco. He so wanted to live in the fast lane and erase the memories of his poverty stricken childhood.
    I stepped into the front drawing room, empty now that all the guests had gone from our just completed fifth winter season. We usually closed down the month after Easter to refurbish the house, relax for a bit and get away from the heavy responsibilities of 24 hour a day innkeeping duties. This year I would be alone for the first time, no Marco to keep me company.
    I turned on the TV, and mixed an iced pitcher of very dry martinis. Drinking was a way of life on the island afterall. As I settled back into my favorite wing chair, the newscaster from Miami was finishing a late breaking story of a prison escape from the Dade County West Correctional Facility. That's where Marco was serving his time. Hope he was't in on it. He needed a few months to cool off. He was still pissed at me. Thought I turned him in to the cops, thought I had warned them he was on the way to Miami with a big load of cocaine stashed in his pickup truck. Last thing he said when I was visiting him through the glass wall of the prison visiting booth was, "I'll get even with you if I have to break out of here to do it!" I'm sure he meant every word of it. In his drug induced paranoia, everyone was his enemy, even me, his trusted friend, companion, and lover.
    Pouring out the last dregs of the martini into my glass, I realized how tired I was. Maybe a little nap wouldn't hurt. Our living quarters were on the third floor, the area least acceptable for renting. We had made it very livable and cozy, a nest in the sky for the two of us. Just didn't feel like making that climb at the moment. Maybe a brief rest nestled here in the wing chair would help. It had been a long day, interviewing cleaning crews, painting contractors, and not very successful either. Most of them were already booked up by the other guest house owners. Wish I had asked our pool boy to stay the summer and help with the work... .... just couldn't do it alone... ...tired now, maybe tomorrow...
    I awoke with a start, something wasn't right. What was that noise? Was someone on the stairway? I dragged myself out of the chair and peered into the darkened hallway.
    "Hello, anybody there?" No answer. Must be my imagination. I glanced at my watch - nine o'clock. I guess I really was tired as four hours had passed by. I bustled about, turned on lights and headed back through the hallway toward the pool out in the rear garden area. Passing the staircase - there was that scent of cologne again, Patchouli, just like Marco used to wear. Could it be - no, not possible. He was safely locked up, or was he?
    Time to take precautions, secure the doors, not usually necessary in Key West where everyone was friendly or at least respected their neighbors property. Of course, as a guest house during season, someone was always on duty, the doors were never locked. But this was different, I was alone, I would feel better if I was locked in securely. Reentering the drawing room, I approached the writing desk where the keys were stored. That's odd, the martini pitcher and glass were gone! Marco was here! Who else but an ex-waiter with a cleaning fetish would follow around behind me and clear the dishes. I raced out into the hallway and up the stairs. We had a gun stored away in our quarters on the third floor. Never had to use it, but it came with the house - sort of. We had found it during the restoration process, had it inspected and cleaned, then put it away for safekeeping.
    Passing across the second floor landing, I thought I heard creaking floorboards somewhere in one of the rear guest rooms. Panicking, I kept going full tilt up the stairs toward the third floor. Where was that gun anyway? Somewhere in the bedroom closet. Rummaging around produced no results, it was gone. Now I was really scared. Perhaps Marco had found it first. I slowly slipped back down toward the second floor, didn't want to get cornered on the third floor with no way out. There was that sound again, someone was in the rear guest room. Time to get the hell out of here. I started toward the top of the grand stairway, slipped on the throw rug at the hall landing and went tumbling down the stairs on my ass. Damn those Oriental throw rugs anyway. Crashing to the bottom, I let out a curse as I hit the floor at the bottom. I must have really messed up my back, I could hardly move. As I lay there groaning, someone looked down from the top of the stairway. It was Billy, the pool boy!
    "What the hell are you doing here," I managed to get out, "I thought you were on the way to New York for the summer season."
    "Thought I'd stick around and see if I could give you a hand this summer, with Marco gone and all." He started down the stairs. "Here let me get you up off that hard floor," he grinned self consciously. "I hope I didn't startle you, I was just showering up in the small room upstairs, thought you wouldn't mind, you were asleep when I came in and I didn't want to wake you."
    "Did you put the glassware away?" I asked.
    "Got to earn my keep if you'll let me stay on."
    "Well, help me up off this floor and onto the sofa, we'll talk about it."
    Billy bent down and grabbed me under the arms pulling me slowly to my feet.
    "Take it easy, sport, I think I sprained something." He walked me slowing into the drawing room. "Help me over to that sofa, I think I'll lie quietly for awhile and see if the pain lets up."
    "You got any pain killers, any prescription strength pills? I'll go get them for you," Billy offered.
    "No, nothing I can think of."
    "How about a good stiff drink?"
    I pondered that thought as Billy moved across the room to the liquor cabinet. He took out the vodka and poured a straight shot over ice from the bar refrigerator.
    "Here, try this, it'll ease the muscles a little."
    It did help a little, I felt more relaxed. "Billy, sit down, let's talk about the job. I could use some help around here with no Marco."
    "Yeah, cool! I'd rather stay here and help you than go up to New York this summer. I like you - a lot."
    "Well, that's part of the problem. This will be strictly an employer-employee relationship. Marco had the idea we were carrying on an affair behind his back, and with him gone, well, I owe it to him to keep things normal until he straightens out and gets back to me."
    "Yeah, I understand, strictly business, Rick. Here let me refill that glass for you."
    As I settled back with the fresh drink, I could feel a slight subsiding of the pain. I began to relax a bit more. "Billy, another reason I need you to stay with me, I've had the strangest feeling all evening that Marco had been here. I don't want to be alone in case he does come back, unannounced, and tries to get even with me."
    "No problem, Rick, I'll be here in case there's any trouble."
    "Thanks, I knew I could count on you. Could you bring me a quilt from the second floor, I think I'd better sleep down here tonight."

---

CHAPTER TWO

---

    Next morning, I awoke to the smell of bacon frying and clattering sounds from the first floor kitchen. Billy soon appeared with a breakfast tray laden with delightful treats, crisp bacon strips, cheddar cheese scrambled eggs, grits, fresh squeezed orange juice and a single rose in a crystal bud vase.
    "I'll be back with your coffee in minute, boss," Billy announced as he left the tray on the coffee table in front of me and started out of the room.
    "You don't have to call me boss, Billy, I just meant that we need to keep our personal feelings to ourselves."
    He just winked and smiled, then turned and disappeared down the hallway.
    "Hey, Boss,... I mean, Rick,... come out to the pool, there's somethin' you gotta see," Billy called out a few minutes later.
    "Be right there," I replied, as I was just finishing up the delicious breakfast he had fixed for me.
    I trundled down the center hallway toward the back and the french doors leading out to the pool area, still wincing with stabs of pain from last nights fall down the stairs. As I emerged into the light, I realized it was already high noon, and the lagoon-like pool was flooded with sunshine. The surrounding palms for which we had named the house were doing little to shade the area at this time of day.
    "Look here," Billy motioned me over to the edge of the water. "There's something down there toward the bottom at the deep end, looks like a gun to me."
    So that's where the gun went, but how? Who but Marco had known where we kept it?
    "You want me to get it out for you?" Billy was already diving in, having nothing but tight little cutoffs on anyway. He emerged from the water a few seconds later, laying the gun on the edge of the pool coping he lifted himself back up over the edge. Dripping wet, he carried it over to me and laid it gingerly on the service counter where we usually served our guests their continental breakfast during season.
    "I guess it's ruined," I commented more to myself than to Billy. Then, turning toward him, "Have you seen anyone hanging around the house since you came back yesterday?"
    "No, Rick, like I said, I slipped in quietly. You were sleeping. I went right up to the little room in the back to shower and change. I wanted to look nice for you."
    "Billy, you always look nice.....and quite sexy, too, but remember what I said about our relationship - strictly business. Now let's get this gun put away and talk about security around here."
    I led the way back inside. Billy, somewhat reluctantly, followed me into the front drawing room.
    "I'm putting this gun here in the slant top desk with all the room keys. Let's please keep all the doors and windows locked unless we have any workmen show up, then we'll have to open everything up."
    With that off my mind, I gave Billy a work schedule for the day and set out for Duval Street, to try to round up some casual labor for the cleaning and repainting. I figured a few stops at the local watering holes might give me some leads to work on. Anybody out of work might be lounging around waiting for offers.
    By the end of the afternoon, I had spoken to half a dozen young guys looking for a work who promised to stop by in the morning and look over the job. If they could even hold a paintbrush and hammer, I was willing to give them a try. Billy could be my foreman and I could get on with other matters. Advertising and budgets for the coming summer and fall seasons were still undone.
    My head was spinning with thoughts of Marco, the scent of his cologne, the sudden reappearance of the gun - what was going on, I had to call Miami and be sure he was still in jail. The time for a good stiff drink was now. I hit Sloppy Joe's for a quick one, didn't like the crowd - too rowdy, too redneck, too straight. Moved on down the street to the Hotel La Concha. Much better, the bar on the top floor was very sophisticated with a pianist-singer. The martinis were cold, the company warm and friendly, the time flew by and so did my troubled thoughts-gone for the day.
    A quick glance at my watch confirmed my worst fears, I had been drinking for two hours. Time to pour myself out of here and struggle on home. I thought of calling Billy to come get me, but thought I could probably make it on my own.
    Finally, home! I stared at the front door trying to remember why it wouldn't open. I was turning the knob, but nothing was happening.
    I called out, "Billy, let me in, I think the damned door is locked."
    Suddenly the door swung inward, Billy reached out and took hold of my arm, guiding me into the hallway.
    "You told me to keep the place locked up tight, Rick, for security reasons, remember?"
    "Oh, yeah, you're right, I'm sorry I yelled. Could you please help me upstairs to bed, I don't think I can climb all the way up to the third floor by myself."
    He led me up the grand staircase to the second floor and turned toward the front guestroom. "I went ahead and made up a bed for you here, thought it would be better for us to stay on the same floor, in case you need anything during the night." With a shy little grin, he stepped back out into the hall and closed the door softly behind him.
    Much later that night, the door opened and Billy walked quietly into the room. Slipping under the covers of my bed, he wrapped his arms around me and whispered, "I thought I heard you call for me."
    I just pulled him closer, nestling into his warm embrace and fell back asleep.

---

CHAPTER THREE

---

    I awoke to the sound of a heavy knocking echoing through empty hallways. It must be the front door downstairs. I looked around me, I was in one of the second floor guest rooms and it must be late morning, as the sun was no longer slanting in the front window. My head hurt like hell, I felt slightly nauseous. I crept out of bed to the door and looked out into the hallway. No one there, but I could hear voices downstairs near the front door. I looked over the stairway railing and saw Billy's head appear below. He looked up and caught sight of me.
    "Hey, Rick, there's somebody here about the job. Should I let him in?"
    "No, ask him to wait outside on the porch, I'll be down in a minute. Remember no one comes in unless we know who they are."
    I looked around the room again and found my clothing folded neatly on one of the chairs. Must have been Billy, I didn't remember doing that. I dressed quickly but took the stairs very slowly, didn't want to risk any more falls. Billy was waiting for me near the front door with a breakfast tray. He probably knew I felt rocky as the tray held only a single cup of coffee, a small glass of juice, and two aspirins.
    "Bless you, Billy, what would I do without you?" I reached for the coffee first and then opened the front door. With a sharp intake of breath and a shaky hand, I nearly dropped the cup as I beheld the stranger on the front veranda.
    A white shirt open to the waist neatly framed a smooth well chisled chest. Then I saw the jeans, 501's was my guess, as they suggestively bulged out over the neat package within. And the face....to die for, well tanned, strong chin, deepset blue eyes. A rugged angel waited before me.
    As I stood transfixed, he looked up and extended his hand. "Hi, I'm Mark, I understand you're hiring."
    I gulped quickly, not trusting my voice just yet, I motioned him inside.
    "Billy, will you bring some more coffee to the drawing room?" I motioned Mark to have a seat on the sofa, I took a chair nearby. "I sure don't remember you from yesterday, did we talk about the job?"
    "No, sir, I heard someone say you were lookin' for carpenters and painters. I was hangin' around Duval yesterday looking for work. Just got in from Miami. Need to get workin' right away."
    "First, don't call me sir, Rick will do just fine. Second, if you have any experience in those fields, you're hired."
    He beamed up at me,"Yes, sir, er, I mean, Rick, I been workin' around a couple of the Deco hotels on South Beach, up by Miami. They just gettin' too particular, now. Need professional work crews from big companies. A small time guy like me, don't get called in anymore."
    "I suppose you need a place to stay. We have plenty of room right here, you can have one of the guest rooms upstairs. As you can see we're closed for the month while we undergo our renovations."
    "That's be swell Rick, can I start today? I need to get workin'."
    Just then Billy entered with the coffee pot, set it down on the cocktail table and motioned me with his eyes to follow him out into the hallway.
    "What is it, Billy?" I whispered as we stood around the corner out of earshot.
    "Don't you think you should check his references, his experience, before you move him in here with us?"
    "I think he'll do just fine from the looks of him."
    "Yeah, that's what I thought you'd say," he looked down at the floor.
    "Remember who pays the bills around here! Show Mark to a room on the second floor, help him get settled in, then join me out by the pool. We'll go over some work plans and schedules." I turned abruptly and walked down the hallway toward the back terrace area and the pool house.
    Later, as Billy joined me outside at my summertime work area in a little sheltered alcove near poolside, I started to apologize for my earlier gruffness, "Billy, please don't misunderstand. I don't mean to sound ungrateful for your concern, but I need to get work going around here. I'm counting on you to oversee everything. You're my main man. If you see anything suspicious about anybody, keep track of them and report back to me."
    "And about last night, did I imagine it or did you spend the night with me?"
    Billy looked down nervously toward the floor, "I'm sorry if I bothered you, Rick, but I care about you - a lot! I just wanted to be with you. We didn't do anything, honest!"
    "I care about you, too, and I could go overboard with my feelings. That's why we need to be careful. Remember, I love Marco, even if he is a bastard sometimes. Please help me, let's just be friends for now, okay?"
    "Okay, Rick, sure, I understand."
    The afternoon passed quickly enough. Billy was busy showing Mark our cleaning routine that always preceded the repainting. I was making real progress at the pool house working on a slimmed down budget for the upcoming summer season. I was just ready to start on the redesign of our new mailers, the brochures we sent out over the summer to insure a solid booking for the fall and winter months, the most lucretive times for Key West innkeeping. Looking down at my Rolex, a gift from Marco, of course, I realized it was cocktail time.
    "Oh Billy," I called out, "you and Mark knock it off for the day and join me poolside for drinks." I went on in to the drawing room to set up a tray of glasses and bottles to carry back outside. We never had open bar by the pool during our summer months. One less expense to eat into our reduced rates.
    "I hate to tell you this, Rick," Billy began as he walked over alone to join me at the lounge chairs, "but I don't think our friend from Miami Beach has ever used a pressure cleaner before. I had to show him everything. I sure hope his painting skills are a little better." With that, he sat down and took a deep swallow of the vodka and tonic that I had mixed for him.
    "Jesus, Rick, this is a strong one. Are you trying to knock me on my ass with one drink." He looked up expectantly with that boyish grin. "You know I'm yours already."
    "Hey, don't talk like that, Billy," I growled, "you know what we agreed about playing it cool." I took a sip of my drink. "Let's give Mark a chance. We don't have much choice at this point. You and Mark are all we've got. Last year we had a crew of six to get all this done in 30 days."
    "Well there's something else about him doesn't sound right. He said he worked at hotels on the beach but doesn't know the first thing about any kind of cleaning. Didn't know we had to wash down the siding before painting. Wonder what kind of work he really did?"
    I looked thoughtfully away for a moment. "You just keep an eye on him, let me know if there's anything else he can't do. And where is he anyway?"
    "Said he wanted to shower and change before sitting down with the boss. Wanted to make a good impression. Don't I know what that means."
    Mark did join us about an hour later. We all sat around trading stories until dusk. I excused myself and went on up to my third floor apartment to fix a quick dinner for myself. I could see that the boys seemed to be getting along okay, so I wasn't worried about leaving them to their drinking. They would take care of themselves.
    Sometime later that night, must have fallen asleep in my chair in front of the television, I heard a scream from downstairs. I roused myself awake and stumbled over to the little stairway leading down to the second floor.
    "What's going on down there," I hollered. No response. I continued down to the second floor hallway turning on lights as I made my progress. "Billy, Mark, where is everybody?" I yelled. Still no response. As I reached the top of the grand staircase I could see someone lying at the bottom on the first floor. It was Billy!
    "Billy, are you all right," I called down as I took the stairs two at a time. I reached out to Billy as I skidded to a stop at the bottom. He wasn't moving.
    "Billy, Billy," I sobbed, "We'll get you to a hospital, you'll be okay!" But I could tell it was too late. Billy wasn't going anywhere, but the morgue.
    I heard a clattering of steps coming down the stairway behind me, it was Mark, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.
    "Oh Mark, Billy's dead, how could this have happened?"
    "He must have stumbled in the dark and fallen. We both had plenty to drink after you left us, but I thought he'd be okay. Him livin' here and all. Maybe I should have stuck beside him a while longer. I'm really sorry."
    "It's not your fault, Mark. I fell down this stairway myself, just the other day. That damned throw rug! Oriental or not, it's going into the trash tomorrow. I guess we better call 911." I bent over Billy's still form. The tears were still streaming down my face.
    "My precious little Billy, what am I going to do without you?"
    Mark knelt down beside me. Putting his arm around my shoulder, he whispered, "I'm still here, Rick, I'll take care of you, if you'll let me."

---

CHAPTER FOUR

---

    The next day after Billy's death was a real nightmare. The previous evening, or rather early morning hours, the paramedics had been summoned by our 911 telephone call, they had pronounced Billy dead at the scene. Chief Whitehead, of the Key West Police Department had arrived personally to write up the accident report, and Cortez Funeral Home had removed Billy's body to their establishment to await arrangements by his family from up north. Both Mark and I had been spared the agony of questioning at that time, with the promise to appear at the chief's office the next morning - early.
    Mark and I walked downtown to the police headquarters, actually only a few blocks from Casa Palms, as is everything only a few blocks away in Old Town. Mark went into the chief's office first to give his report on Billy's condition at the time of the accident. I remained in the hallway, collecting my thoughts. Something about last night was bothering me. Billy had been up and down the stairs a hundred times. He knew the house inside and out, even in the dark and drunk, I couldn't see him having a careless fall.
    "Rick, the chief's ready for you," Mark said as he came down the hallway toward me. "If you don't mind, I'll go up the street and collect a few materials, then get back to the house and get started."
    "Sure, go ahead. After I leave here I'll head over to the funeral home and see if Billy's family has been notified. I'll be along later. Get whatever you need, I've accounts at the most of the supply houses." With that, I turned into the office and closed the door behind me.
    "Sure sorry about what happened to your boy," the chief began. "You got anything you want to tell me?"
    "I don't think I can add anything to what you saw last night. I just can't believe a boy like Billy could be so careless - have an accident like that."
    "That's exactly what I'm talking about," the chief continued, "you big city boys from up in Miami can't come down here and pull any of that stuff like you do in Dade County."
    "What do you mean, Chief Whitehead?"
    "What I mean is, that was no accident. That boy had marks around his neck. He was dead before he hit the ground."
    I gasped in shock. I was speechless.
    "I got the medical examiner's preliminary report right here on my desk. That boy was strangled."
    With a dazed expression, I left the office and headed uptown to the funeral home. The chief's admonishion not to leave town and keep my eye on the new employee rang in my ears. With all due respect to the chief, the 'usual suspects' should be broadened to include Marco. He's the only one who might wish to see Billy out of the house - permanently. He always believed that we were an item, Billy and me. I don't know how he could do it, but even if he was not one of the escapees from jail, Marco's presence can be strongly felt in the house. The scent of his cologne, the strange disappearance then reappearance of the gun, and now Billy's death, they all pointed to Marco. What was going on here? Trying to shake the bad feelings from my mind, I continued on to the funeral home.
    Hours later, having done all I could to assist Billy's out-of-town family from this end, I headed back to Duval Street for a brief lunch at the Cuban restaurant before facing the prospect of the empty house awaiting me. I knew Mark would probably be there, hopefully making some progress on the cleaning duties, but things were going to be very lonely without Billy.
    After my lunch was over, a walk down Duval brought me right past my favorite bar, the 501. Lucky for them their address matched perfectly with their preferred dress code, the famous Levi button fly jeans. As cocktail hour was nearly at hand, I decided to stop in for a quick one. I guess I shouldn't have, what with my state of mind. One drink led to several and I wasn't on my way home until after dark.
    Walking up to the house, I could see that Mark had the sense of mind to turn on the lights at least. I could even see a glow coming from the third floor dormer window, my apartment. The front door was unlocked, I'd have to get on Mark about that.
    "Hey, Rick, where ya been all day," Mark greeted me in the front hallway. "I got all the supplies together. Even found someone to deliver everything from that building supply down on Front Street."
    "Yeah, that's great, but we still have a labor problem. You can't do all this work by yourself."
    "I was thinkin' the same thing myself. The boy drivin the delivery van just happened to be lookin for a new job. Seems they were layin off for the summer. Thought you might give him a job, what with Billy gone."
    "I guess I could talk to him, have him come over in the morning. I'm going upstairs for a little nap."
    "Well, I hope you won't be mad, but I asked him to come back and hang around until you got in. He's upstairs now. Makin' himself useful, if you know what I mean."
    I just looked at Mark. "What's he doing upstairs? You know we can't have any strangers in here after what just happened last night." I started on up to the second floor.
    "I'm real sorry, Rick. If you have any trouble with him, I'll take care of it."
    I continued up the stairway, now stomping, is more like it. I was not in the mood for any more surprises. Climbing on up to the third floor, I threw open the apartment door. The living room was empty.
    "Hello, anybody up here?"
    Hearing a rustling sound coming from the bedroom, I looked in. There, stretched across my bed, was a slim young body. Totally nude. Shaking the sleep from his eyes as he looked up at me, he said, "I hope you don't mind. I fell asleep waiting for you."

---

CHAPTER FIVE

---

    Waking with a start, I realized I hadn't been sleeping alone. It was the slim young body from last night. I shook his still slumbering form, "Hey, wake up sleepy head."
    "Do I get the job?" he asked as he rubbed his eyes.
    "I think we can use you, for the summer anyway," I replied drowsily. "By the way, I don't think I got your name."
    "It's Brad."
    "Okay, Brad, you get the job, but remember - whatever happened here last night- that's just between you and me. I don't want you to think part of the job is sleeping with the boss, although I think I'd like to consider an exception in your case."
    "Yes, sir, I understand, it's just between you and me," he grinned.
    "And please call me Rick, save the 'sir' bit for your father." I tried to look stern and business like, but my smile gave me away.
    "Do I get to stay here, Rick, or do I have to go back and forth from my parents house?"
    "You can have Billy's room....I mean the room at the end of the hall down on the second floor. Billy was going to stay here for the summer. I guess you heard what happened to him?"
    "Yeah, news gets around fast in a small town like this."
    "Let's get dressed and I'll take you out for breakfast. We'll go down to Camilla's on Duval Street and get a good old-fashioned Cuban meal. I guess kitchen duties aren't part of your talents."
    "No, my mom always fixes me breakfast before I go to work, but maybe I could learn, if you'd teach me."
    "That's not necessary, Brad, you'll have enough to do around here this next month. We've got to have this place in shape fast, in time for the summer season. Maybe later we'll get to culinary pursuits. For now, just help Mark with the cleaning and painting. After work, if you want, come upstairs and I'll fix dinner for both of us. Come on, let's go get that breakfast I promised!" I couldn't help but give him a quick hug as we started down the stairs.
    Mark was waiting for us at the bottom of the staircase. "Yo, Rick, how was your night?" he grinned slyly. "We got us a new helper, or what?"
    "You might say that, Mark, he passed the test with flying colors. I think he'll work out very nicely, and I have you to thank for that."
    "No problem, Rick, I want to keep you happy, since we lost Billy."
    I winced with the memory of Billy's body lying right where we were standing, at the bottom of the stairs. "Come on, Brad, let's get out of here." I charged forward toward the front door.
    That afternoon, I finished my work on the advertising brochures. Working straight through the day out in the poolhouse had proved to be the best way to keep my thoughts from Billy. I bypassed the usual ritual of late afternoon drinks poolside with the boys, and hurried up to the third floor apartment to begin a small dinner for Brad and me. I did not feel quite back to normal and didn't want to be alone. Perhaps I could bend my own rules, just a bit, and invite Brad to stay up here with me for tonight.
    A tapping at the apartment door announced Brad's arrival. "Rick, may I come in?"
    "Of course, Brad, that's why I left the door open. Come on back to the kitchen. Do you want a drink?"
    "Well, a cold beer would go down real good about now. Can I help you do anything?"
    I turned from the kitchen sink and gave him a warm smile and a wink. "Perhaps you can do something for me later. Just help yourself to the beer for now, it's in the refrigerator. I hope Dos Equis is okay. Marco used to drink it all the time."
    "Sure, thanks! Can I open one for you?"
    "No, I'll stick to my martini."
    As I turned back to the rinsing of the salad vegetables, I could feel the warmth of his body as Brad moved in close behind me. "I really want to thank you for giving me this chance to work here this summer. I'll do anything you ask." He placed his hands on my waist and I could feel the hard outline in his jeans pressing against me.
    "I think dinner is going to be late tonight," I said as I turned and led him to the bedroom.
    Closing the bedroom door, I turned to Brad with, "You'll really do anything I ask?"
    "Of course, Rick, what do you want?"
    "First, take off your shirt, real slow. Yeah, that's it. Now your jeans - slowly. Yeah. Now come over here and get on your knees in front of me. That's it. Undo my jeans buttons - real slow. Now take my cock out and suck on it. Take it all the way in. Yeah, that's it. Nice and slow. Ooh, that feels good. Suck it good, baby! Yeah..."
    "Okay, now get over there on the bed - face down. Yeah. You ever been fucked before, Brad?"
    "Not really."
    "I'll go easy. If it hurts, just tell me, and I'll stop."
    "Yeah, right, that's what they all say!"
    "I thought you said you haven't done this before."
    "Well, I tried a couple of times, but it hurt."
    "I'll use lots of lube. Okay spread your legs, baby. Yeah. I'll go slow." I pressed my cock against his hot ass. Taking his outstetched hands into mine, I lay in on top of him, teasing, entering slowly.
    "Oh, Rick!"
    "Yeah, baby, just relax, that's it." Entering slowly, backing out, entering again... "Oh, God, Brad, you're so hot, I can't hold back! I'm cumming..."
    I lay there panting, trying to catch my breath, my heart racing faster and faster. Finally, recovering, I turned Brad over gently and took his beautiful turgid cock into my mouth. Slowly, gently, I brought him to a shuddering climax.
    Stretching out beside his now stilled body, I pulled him against me, moulding his form against my own, We lay there for a long while, enjoying the quiet together.
    "Oh, Rick, can I stay here with you tonight - in your bed?"
    "Sure, Brad, that's just what I had in mind. You rest here for a while. I'll finish fixing dinner and we can take our plates outside and eat by the pool. It's beautiful this time of night, so peaceful and quiet."
    Later, having finished our dinner in the poolhouse, I got up from my chair and walked around behind Brad. I leaned over him placing my arms around his chest. "Come on, cutie, lets go for a swim," I invited.
    "But I didn't bring my bathing suit with me."
    "Clothing is optional at this guesthouse. We'll leave the pool lights off, and besides, only Mark is here and he won't be shocked."
    Brad needed no further encouragement and quickly joined me in the cool crystaline water. Having swum several laps, side by side, we rested against the edge of the coping. I pulled Brad close against me, letting my hands trail down into the water, cupping them around his quickly growing cock.
    "Ever had a blow job in the water?" I asked coyly.
    He just looked around at me and smiled, not saying a word. I submerged into the pool and brought my mouth over his cock, sucking greedily. Soon I had to surface for air. "Lets go over to that lounge chair and finish this." I pulled Brad from the pool and walked him over to the lounge area. "Yeah, that's better, lay back and relax. I'll do you real good baby." I continued working on his cock, quickly bringing him to a climax. "Now my turn." I straddled the chair bringing my own throbbing cock up to Brad's mouth. "Yeah, that's it, baby, suck me real slow." Working my cock in and out, I fucked his mouth until I could feel that deep urgency of the impending flood of cum. I quickly pulled out of Brad's mouth and let the rich cream explode over his greedily licking tongue and lusciously ripe full lips. Sliding back down over him, I brought myself up on to the chair and lay on top of Brad. Hungrily kissing those sensuous lips I could taste the saltiness of our combined cum.
    I finally stood up and pulled Brad up beside me. "Come on, honey, lets go up to bed. I think we both need some rest."
    Later, as we lay in bed, holding onto one another, Brad finally spoke. "Rick, there's something I been meaning to tell you."
    "Yeah, baby, what is it?"
    "This afternnon, while you were working out in the poolhouse, I overheard Mark on the telephone in the front room. He was talking to some guy named Juanito. Said something like 'I haven't found the stash yet, but if I can get the guy out o' the house for a bit, I could do a better search'."
    "That's all he said?"
    "Well that's all I heard, he looked around and saw me standing in the hallway. I just kept going to the front door like I was on the way out to the mailbox or something."
    "Sounds like he wants me out of the house. Perhaps I should give him his wish and make a trip up to Miami tomorrow."
    "What about me?"
    "You stay here and keep your eyes and ears open for me. I'll say I'm going up to see my printing house for the new brochures I've been working on. Maybe I'll go visit Marco in jail. He might know what this is about - if he'll even talk to me."
    "Is Marco your boyfriend or what?"
    "Marco and I have been together for a long time and I still love him, but right now he's pissed as hell at me."
    "I thought I could be your new boyfriend, Rick."
    "We'll see about that. For now just be my 'boy toy', okay?"
    "Yeah, whatever you say, Rick. I'll do anything you say, be anybody you want!"
    "Just give it time. Who knows, you may be my number one guy. Let me hold on to you for now, and let's get some sleep. Tomorrow's going to be a busy day for both of us."

---

CHAPTER SIX

---

    "Mark, I'll be driving up to Miami this morning. I've got to get these proofs to the printer. Can you manage with only Brad's help?"
    "Yeah, Rick, no prob! When you gettin' back...you know, in case anyone calls?"
    "It'll probably be very late. As long as I'm up there, I might visit with some old friends. I told Brad he could stay in my apartment while I'm gone. Please keep an eye on him. I wouldn't want any more accidents."
    "You bet, I won't let him out of my sight. Where is he anyway?"
    "He's sleeping in for a while longer. He had a late night."
    "Yeah, I know. Glad to see he's workin' out," Mark grinned.
    "Right, well, I got my car stored down the street in the old warehouse. I guess I better get a move on. See you two, tomorrow."
    I left the house with a sudden feeling of relief. It would be nice getting away for a day after all that had been happening around here. Driving my classic 1962 Mercedes 190 SL to Miami was like going on a holiday. I could take the top off and enjoy the freedom of the open road. I needed the space to think clearly about Mark. What is he after? Who is he, really? Going to see Marco was probably the key to the whole mystery. I hope he was willing to talk to me.

    "Hey, lover boy, get your lazy ass outta bed and give me a hand."
    "Oh, hi Mark, what time is it?"
    "It's almost nine and I'm not doin' all this work by myself. Maybe you think sleepin' with the boss gives you special privileges," Mark said as he leered at Brad still lying in Rick's bed.
    "I'm sorry, Mark, I'll hit the shower and be right down. I had kind of a late night."
    "Yeah, I saw you two carryin' on out by the pool last night. Might be I'd like a little o' that for myself tonight."
    Brad didn't reply. He just scampered out of bed and into the adjoining bathroom.

    By twelve noon, Rick had rolled into Miami. The printers was his first stop. After leaving the proofs for the brochures, he made a quick call to the West Dade Correctional Facility. Bad luck, the visiting hours were only from seven to nine that evening. He'd never get back to Key West until well after midnight. The afternoon would be a long one, waiting for the visiting hours. Perhaps time enough to do a little detective work - 'Hardy Boys' style. Rick jumped into the Mercedes and headed over the causeway to Miami Beach. The hotel Mark had mentioned as his last place of employment was a well know landmark in South Beach. Perhaps someone would remember him, if he had really worked there.
    "Hello, Casa Palms, may I help you?"
    "You sound very professional, Brad. It's me, Rick. I'm still here in Miami Beach trying to check out Mark's references, but no one seems to remember him - by name or description. I hate to ask you to do this, but try to get real close and friendly with him while I'm up here. See if you can get his real name and what he's up to. I have to wait 'til seven to get in to see Marco. Probably won't be back until after midnight. Can I count on you?"
    "Sure, Rick, I told you I'd do anything for you. I want to be your 'special' boy. Oh-oh, Mark's coming in the door. I'd better get off the phone. See you tonight."
    "Okay, Brad, but be very careful, very discreet. I'll see you soon."
    "Who was that on the phone?" Mark demanded as he walked into the hallway.
    "Just somebody asking about summer rates, and I told them to call back tomorrow when the owner would be here."
    "Well, pool boy, get back outside and started scrubbin' down the sides of the pool and the tile around the edge. It better be spotless by tonight. I got things to do in here."
    "Yes, Master, your wish is my command."
    We'll see about that later," Mark grinned.

    By seven o'clock, Rick was heading west to the isolated site of one of Dade County's correctional facilities. It was so far west of Miami, it seemed to be in the Everglades, surrounded by dense tropical growth and reached only by a two lane gravel road. The first glimpse of the grim looking building sent a shiver down Rick's spine. Poor Marco was confined behind these walls for at least one year.
    After registering and showing I.D., Rick was led to a visiting area where he waited with others for his name to be called. Finally, he was escorted to a semi-private booth with a thick glass wall and a telephone. He had only fifteen minutes for his visit. Soon Marco was led into the room on the other side of the glass partition. He looked at Rick with surprise and picked up his telephone.
    "What the hell are you doing here, Rick?"
    "Marco, I need your help. Please don't be angry with me. Strange things are happening at our house that you need to know about."
    "Oh, so it's still 'our' house?"
    "It will always be our house. I love you, Marco, in spite of what you've done. Come on, help me with this. Billy's dead, an accidental fall down the front stairway. However, the police chief thinks otherwise."
    "Your boyfriend Billy?"
    "You know he was never my boyfriend. That was all in your mind. Yes, Billy, the pool boy."
    "I'm sorry about that. I liked Billy, too. What else?"
    "I only found one worker to help with this month's renovation work and he seems all right, but the chief thinks he may be responsible for Billy's death. And Brad overheard him talking on the phone in the hall about..."
    "Who the hell is Brad, another new boyfriend?"
    "No, he's not a boyfriend. He was laid off from the building supply house and Mark recruited him to take Billy's place as pool boy and help with the work."
    "Now who the hell is Mark?"
    "Mark is the only applicant for the cleaning and painting job, but he seemed okay at first. Now I'm not so sure. His references don't check out. Brad heard him talking to someone named Juanito about looking for the stash. Do you know what he's talking about?"
    "Did you say Juanito?"
    "Yes, do you know a Juanito?"
    "All visitors have one minute remaining," came over the sound system just then.
    "Look, Rick, this could be very serious. These may be dangerous people. I can't say anything further just now. I'm still allowed some collect telephone calls. I'll do some checking and call you collect at the house tomorrow evening. Go back home and be very careful. Don't let on you've seen me or talked to me. In fact, get that old gun out and keep it close by."
    "Funny you should mention that old gun. It made a strange trip into the bottom of the pool. And I swear I smelled your cologne all through the house the other day."
    "Rick, I don't know nothin' about that, could be your martinis kicking in or something. I'm not the only one with bad habits. Just be careful, I got to go now. For the record - I love you, too."

    "Hey, pool boy, looks like you did a pretty good job. Think I'll take a swim and check it out real close. Go up and get us a couple o' beers from Rick's fridge and get your ass back down here."
    "Yeah, Mark, I could use one. Be right back."
    When Brad returned a few minutes later with the frosty bottles, Mark was already floating in the pool with only his briefs on. "Wow, you look pretty sexy in your underwear. Can I join you?"
    "Yeah, pool boy, strip down and jump in here." Mark stroked the bottle of Dos Equis sitting on the edge of the pool. "I got something here for you to work on," he leered at Brad.
    Slowly, the boy removed his shirt, dropping it on the lounge chair. He undid the buttons on his jeans, and peeled them down over his muscular thighs. The thought of sex with Mark brought an instant erection that threatened to tear through his briefs. "I think I must be glad to see you," Brad giggled, "look at me!"
    Mark pulled himself up out of the pool in one swift motion. He dropped his own briefs to the ground revealing his hot throbbing member. "You're goin t' be very glad when I get done with you," Mark grinned. "Lay down in that lounge chair, and spread 'em wide. Daddy's comin' home!"
    "Ooh, Mark, I don't think I can take all that."
    "Yeah, you'll take it." Mark straddled Brad's legs rubbing his glistening cockhead between the firm round cheeks. "I figure the boss loosened you up real good last night. Now it's my turn." He spit on his palm and lubricated Brad's rosy ass. Pushing in slowly he felt Brad tighten up.
    "Oh, Mark, it hurts."
    "Relax, pool boy, take it like a man."
    "Oooh, Mark...."

    By the time Rick got back to Key West, it was after midnight. Leaving the car parked out front for the night, he eased himself up the sidewalk and quietly entered the house. Only the hallway chandelier was lighted, the rest of the house dark and still. Climbing the stairs to the third floor apartment, he didn't know what he might find waiting for him. A small bedside lamp showed Brad peacefully slumbering in Rick's bed. Stripping down to his shorts, Rick crawled in beside Brad. As he wrapped his arms around the still form, Brad stirred slightly.
    "Welcome home, Rick, I missed you."
    "Yeah, I missed you, too, baby. Everything go okay while I was gone?"
    "You might say that. At least I got a lot of work done."
    "Did you get 'up close and personal' with Mark like I asked you to?"
    "You might say that."

---

CHAPTER SEVEN

---

    "Brad, breakfast is ready. Come and get it." I set a plate of steaming hotcakes on the little kitchen table.
    "Coming, Mom," Brad grinned as he emerged from the bedroom.
    "First, I'm not your mom, and second, I'm not wearing little bunny slippers!"
    "Huh...?"
    "Like Harvey Fierstein in 'Torch Song Trilogy', but I guess that was a little before your time."
    "Yeah, whatever. I'm hungry, and this sure looks good enough to eat." Brad settled into his chair and started digging onto his food.
    "So do you , cutie, look good enough to eat." Rick quipped as he sat down opposite Brad and picked up his coffee mug, "but I've got to be serious for a few minutes. I'm going to trust you to be calm and not let on you know anything. I got the feeling after talking to Marco yesterday that Mark and this Juanito may be mixed up in illegal drug business. Marco seemed to know the name Juanito. Said these are bad people and I should keep a gun handy. He's going to call collect tonight and fill me in. So keep Mark from answering the telephone today if you can. In fact, I may keep you two busy outside, and I'll work inside today. I've got a gun locked in the desk in the front drawing room. I'll work in there on the account books."
    "Wow, this is serious, Rick, but I'd rather not work too close with Mark today if it's all the same to you. He was pretty rough on me last night."
    "What do you mean by rough? He didn't try to hurt you did he?"
    "Not like you think. He got a little carried away out by the pool, that's all." Brad looked down at his plate.
    "I'm sorry about that, Brad. I didn't mean for you to do anything you didn't want to."
    "Oh, he's a very sexy guy and I was horny as hell, but he's like some animal."
    "He won't try anything while I'm here today." I stood up with my coffee in hand. "I'm going downstairs and start to work. You come down when you're ready."
    Just as I reached the bottom of the stairway, the front doorbell sounded. "I'll get it," I yelled, to no one in particular, as the downstairs seemed deserted.
    "I look for Mark, he here?" said the darkskinned muscular young latino at the door.
    "He's not downstairs yet. You can wait here in the hall way while I go look for him. And who should I say is calling?"
    "Just say Juanito here," he said smiling with glistening white teeth.
    My hand shook at the familiar name, coffee splashed on the floor. "I'll... I'll.. go get him. You just wait here. Be right back." I walked briskly to the back patio area, calling out for Mark.
    "Yo, Rick, what's up?" Mark appeared from around the back of the poolhouse.
    "There's a visitor waiting in the front hall, asked for you, name's Juanito?"
    "Yeah, that's my buddy from Miami. Told him we might could use him this month. I need more help than that pretty little pool boy."
    "Okay, Mark, whatever you think," I backed away toward the doorway. "You show him around, I'll be in the front drawing room, working inside today." I could feel the impending doom, I was slowly losing control of this situation.
    Brad was descending the stairway as I reentered the main hall. "Brad, please show Juanito out to the pool, he's looking for Mark." Our eyes locked on each other as Brad caught the emphasis of the name as a warning.
    The two of them went out the back and I quickly turned into the drawing room. The desk was unlocked, the gun missing! Now is not the time to panic, I thought. Get a grip, calm down, act like nothing is out of the ordinary. I turned to my accounting work and tried not to think about our visitor. When Marco calls, all will be explained, I hope.
    Four o'clock and all seemed going well with the three working very hard and making great progress. Even Juanito seemed to be fitting in nicely. Perhaps I misunderstood Marco. I put my account books away for the day and prepared a tray of drinks to take out to the pool. With four of us to consider, it would be easier to stick to one big batch of Margaritas.
    I carried the tray out the back french doors and set it on the poolhouse table. "Okay guys," I hollered, "break for the day. Drinks are here."
    Mark and Juanito came around from the side of the house. "Sounds good, Rick, I told Juanito here what a great boss you are, always treating us like the house guests."
    "That's just my Southern upbringing, Mark. We try to treat our white folk as good as our darkies," I grinned. "Where's Brad?"
    "Sent him out earlier for the pool chemicals, we're runnin' low. Should be back soon."
    Just then Brad came rushing out the back door. "Rick, there's a phone call for you, something about reservations."
    "Thanks, Brad, join the guys for a drink, but don't overdo it." I hoped he caught my meaning. We both needed to keep clear headed tonight.
    I headed in to the drawing room and picked up the telephone. "Casa Palms, Rick speaking, may I help you?"
    "Rick, it's me Marco. Are you alone? I got a lot to say and these collect calls get cut off after a few minutes."
    "Go ahead. Brad didn't let on it was you - smart boy. That Juanito character showed up for work and they've been busy all day. They're out at the pool now, all having drinks."
    "I said just listen, don't talk. I made a deal today, with the DEA, it's going to knock some time off my sentence if it works. Here's what you need to do..."

    I strolled back out to the pool, although severely agitated inside, and exuded a countenance of utter calm. "Well, party of four for a week. Things are starting to heat up around here." I glanced at Brad to catch his eye. "Y'all help yourselves to more drinks. Take a swim, too. I've got to get some things for dinner down at Fausto's little market, be back in a few minutes."
    "Thanks, Rick, we'll manage... with Brad's help here."
    Brad looked over at me with a pleading look in his eyes. "I can manage by myself. Brad, you just mix the guys a fresh batch of Margaritas. I won't be long."
    He picked up the drink tray and followed me through the door. "Rick, whats goin' on?"
    "I'll explain later, you just keep those two entertained outside. Don't worry, it'll work out." I gave him a quick hug and left through the front door.
    "Hey, pool boy, where's those drinks?," Mark hollered.
    "Coming, Master," Brad replied as he carried the refilled tray back to the pool house.
    "Take your clothes off, pool boy. Join us in the pool."
    "I better not, Rick'll be back soon."
    "I said take your clothes off, now! My friend Juanito here wants a little o' yer pearly white ass."
    "Come here, boy. I got something for you," Juanito invited.
    Perched naked on the edge of the pool, Juanito showed off his quickly growing cock.
    Brad peeled off his clothes, letting them drop on the pool deck. His own thickening member showed his growing excitement. He walked slowly over to the edge of the pool and dived cleanly into the sparkling water. Coming up for air, he paddled over to the edge where Juanito sat waiting.
    "Now suck me good, white boy."
    Brad pulled himself up close and took the rigid piece deep into his mouth.
    "Yeah, that's it." He pushed Brad's head down, holding him tight over his cock.
    Meanwhile, Mark jumped out of the pool and headed to a lounge chair. "When you're done with him, send him over here," Mark ordered as he stroked his own richly veined piece.
    After a few minutes of deep throating, Brad wriggled loose to gulp some air. Juanito stood up from the pool edge. "Come on, white boy, go suck Mark. I fuck your white ass at same time."
    Stretched out in the lounge chair, Mark just grinned, "Yeah, pool boy, get yer hot mouth over my dick. Do me real good."
    Brad kneeled at the foot of the chair and leaned over Mark, taking the throbbing cock deep into his mouth. Juanito, approaching from behind, pushed Brad higher up in the chair and rubbed his turgid member up and down between Brad's ass cheeks.
    "Okay, white boy, your goin' to remember Juanito." With that, he thrust his saliva covered cock deep into Brad.
    "Oh, God," Brad gasped as he writhed with the pleasure of being fucked from both ends.

---

CHAPTER EIGHT

---

"Brad, is that you in the shower?"

"Be right out."

I set the bag of groceries on the kitchen countertop, my cover for a quick trip to see Chief Whitehead about Marco's plan. Brad bounced into the kitchen. "That's a cute little towel you're wearing, Brad. Can I see what's underneath?"

He quickly dropped the towel to the floor. "Is this what you want. Rick?" he asked with a sheepish grin.

I quickly dropped to my knees and took Brad's beautiful young cock into my hungry mouth. Sucking greedily, I realized how much I wanted him, all of him, and right now.

"Come on, baby," I said standing erect, "let's continue this in bed." I led Brad back into the bedroom. Pushing him gently back onto the satin sheets, I once again covered his firm manhood with my greedy mouth. Then, pulling away, I said, "I want us to cum together." I pulled him up from the pillows and took his place lying back onto the bed. "Now, sit on my cock, Yeah, that's it. Work that body."

Brad, facing me, arched back, thrusting his own cock into the air as he moved his hips up and down on me. I placed both hands around his rigid erection and worked him up and down. The pre-cum slickened his cockhead, making him shiver with delight.

"Oh, Rick, I'm cumming!"

"Me, too, honey. Let it come!" I thrust up into him, deeper and deeper. Just as I couldn't hold back any longer, neither could Brad, letting go like a gushing fountain. His white nectar shot up onto my face. I greedily licked at the corners of my mouth, enjoying the salty-sweet flavor.

Brad leaned forward, kissing my mouth, sucking at his own cum. "Rick, I love you. Please love me back."

"I like you lots, but I'm a 'married man'. Remember, me and Marco? He'll always come first."

We held on to each other, man and boy. Finally, I had to break the spell.

"We have a little job to take care of tonight, Brad. Let's get dressed and I'll explain."

It was well after dark as we quietly slipped down the little rear stairwell, Brad and I.

"I hope you gave those two lots of drinks, we need them to stay asleep for awhile."

"Yeah, I gave them plenty of everything. Drinks and lots of action, just like you told me. But I saved enough for you, too."

"You sure did." I gave him a quick kiss on the lips. "Come on, lets get this over with."

We crept stealthily out the rear service door and approached the pool house from the back, in case anyone might be watching from the second floor windows. Lifting the pool house table out of the way, the cocoa matting covering the wood deck was easily rolled away.

"What's this trap door for?" Brad whispered. "I never saw this before."

"The pool house was built over the old cistern. It's not used anymore, but we thought it would be better to have access, just in case," I whispered back.

"Help me pull it up, there's a hiding place under here according to Marco. Even I didn't know about it."

The door swung upward with little difficulty. Obviously it had been used recently.

"Flash your light here, Brad, but keep your back to the house."

The penlight beam revealed a grey metal lockbox and half a dozen plastic wrapped packages. I reached for the box, leaving the packages alone.

"Come on, let's put this back the way we found it and get inside the house."

Moments later we arrived safely back to the third floor apartment. No sounds from downstairs . We had been successsful.

"What's this all about, Rick,what's in the box?"

"Marco had his profits stashed in this box so I wouldn't know what he was up to. I knew he was running drugs from here up to Miami, kind of a go-between, but I assumed he spent all his money as he made it."

"Then those plastic wrapped packages are some kind of drugs?"

"You got it, Sherlock! Mark and Juanito were sent to find the undelivered second half of his load. He got caught with the first half, and went to jail."

"So Mark and Juanito work for drug dealers in Miami?"

"Yeah, a wholesale distributor that relays them on to other cities up North. This is no small time group of thugs."

"What are we supposed to do now?"

"We let Mark 'find' the stash. He and Juanito make a beeline for Miami with the DEA trailing them to the distributor. Marco worked a deal, by setting this up. If it leads to the arrest of the supplier as well as the distributor, they cut his sentence way back. He may be back home the middle of this summer."

"Oh, that soon?" Brad looked away quickly. "Then I guess you won't want me anymore."

"Brad, you can always have a job here, but certain things will have to change. Let's just enjoy each other for now."

I placed the unopened metal box in the back of the bedroom closet, at the bottom of a half-filled laundry basket. "Come on to bed, tomorrow's almost here."

"You sure you want me to stay with you tonight?" Brad questioned.

"Of course, baby," I grabbed Brad around the waist, pulling him in close. "You belong with me - for now."

Next morning Brad awoke with his usual hardon. It didn't take me long to bring him to a shuddering climax.

"Okay, sexy boy, let's get this game plan started. Do you mind if we skip breakfast? I'm too nervous to eat or do any cooking."

"Whatever you say, Rick. I can wait."

"I promise I'll make it up to you later."

"I know you will, Rick, no problem."

Leaving Brad in the bedroom to get dressed, I rushed on down to the first floor in search of Mark and Juanito. They were already working on the roof of the pool house, cleaning and getting ready to restain the wood shingled roof.

"Hey, guys, before you shut down that pressure cleaner, be sure to do the deck floor inside the pool house. It's going to need repainting this year. Hasn't been touched since we moved here."

"Sure, Rick, we'll get right on it. Brad coming out to help or you got him on something else?"

"I think I'll send him down the street for breakfast. He seems a little out of sorts today."

"Maybe we gave the kid too much to drink last night, eh, Juanito?" Mark grinned over at his buddy.

"Yeah, thees keed was wild, man," Juanito chuckled.

Not commenting, I returned to the house. "Brad, while the guys make their 'discovery' in the pool house floor, I think you should be out of here. I don't want them doing anything else to you. I'll stay here and watch them from upstairs."

"Sure, Rick, I'll go downtown and have breakfast at the Cuban place."

"Brad, are you okay? You seem a little pissed off about something."

"I'll be okay, just a little nervous, I guess."

"Me, too. You go ahead then. Don't come back until this afternoon. That should give them enough time to find the stash and get the hell out of here."

"Yeah, I think that's plenty of time. See ya', Rick."

I stationed myself at the back window in the third floor apartment. A great view of the whole pool area. I waited, but not for too long. The furniture was moved, the rug rolled up and - bingo! They spotted the trap door, and had it open in seconds. I could see their agitated movements as they lifted out the plastic packages. Mark glanced up at the house just then and spotted me in the window.

"Hey, Rick," he yelled up, "we found somethin' here!"

I opened the window and leaned out. "Bring it inside," I yelled back. Not wanting a confrontation, I decided to remain upstairs, hoping they would just take the stuff and leave the house.

A clattering of feet on the grand stairway dashed my hopes. "Hey, Rick, my man, got a little favor you can do me for." Mark entered the apartment with Juanito right behind him.

"Okay, Mark, what can I do for you?" I asked nervously.

"We're going to need some alternate transportation. How 'bout handin' over them keys to the Mercedes?"

"I don't think so, Mark," I replied rather boldly. "Nobody drives that car but me."

"Maybe this'll change yer mind!" He reached under his shirt and pulled out my revolver. "Now, hand over them keys."

As much as I loved that car, it wasn't worth getting shot over. I complied. "Here you go, Mark, please take it easy on the car. It's a classic you know."

"Yeah, right, real easy. Now I think you should just stay up here a while. We'll be packing up and takin' our leave. I wouldn't want any more 'accidents' to happen, like with Billy. If you get my meanin'," he grinned slyly.

I looked over at Mark, startled. "You mean you killed my Billy?"

"Let's just say 'accidents happen' and leave it go at that."

I sat down, suddenly drained of all energy. Mark and Juanito slammed the door and clattered back down the stairs.

My mind wandered back over all the events since Marco's arrest. Seems like that started a downhill slide that none of us would ever recover from.

A smell of smoke coming under the apartment door brought me quickly back to the present. Pulling the door open, I was met with a roiling wall of smoke billowing up the stairway. The orange glow coming from below and the crackling sound of hundred year old wood work burning left no doubt. The entire stairway was on fire - I was trapped on the third floor.

Running to the front dormer window overlooking the street, I looked down to the sidewalk and saw Brad waving his arms and yelling something. I threw open the window, shouting down to Brad, "Call the fire department, quickly, I'm trapped!"

"They're already on the way, Rick. Stay at the back of the house. You're right above the fire where you are now."

Quickly retreating to the kitchen window in the back, I started praying for help to arrive.

Much later that evening, Brad and I sat around the piano bar at Hotel La Concha. The fire had gutted Casa Palms' interior, a ninety per cent loss. "God bless those old Key West shipwreckers and their wooden houses," I thought. "Next time I'm buying brick or stone!"

I turned to Brad and saluted him with my martini glass. "Thanks to your quick thinking, young man, keeping watch on the front of the house, you probably saved my life. I really owe you - big time."

"Rick, you've already helped me more than you may know," Brad grinned as he lifted his beer and drank deeply. "If it's all right with you, I think I'll stay with my parents tonight. You probably need your rest."

As Brad left the bar, I retreated to my hotel room at the La Concha, compliments of our insurance company. I stretched out on the bed, fully clothed, too tired to undress. The telephone rang just as I was nodding off to sleep. "Sir, this is the front desk. You have a collect call from Dade County. Do you wish to accept?"

"Sure, who is it?"

"Don't know sir. I'll connect you now."

"Rick, are you okay? It's me, Marco!"

"Yeah, I'm okay, the house is totaled though."

"Sheriff Whitehead told me where you were staying. They got Mark and Juanito. Got the Miami connection, too. Don't know anymore about the supplier. Looks like I might get out in three months."

"That's great news, lover boy. I want you home with me where you belong. But right now I don't where home is."

"We'll make it, Rick. With the insurance money and my little nest egg, we can start over."

"Your nest egg? Oh, my God, the tin box!"

"You do have my stash, right?"

"I'm sorry, Marco, I forgot all about it. It must have burned up in the fire. Well, a few hundred dollars here or there's not going to make much difference anyway, right?"

"My dear Rick, that box had over fifty thousand dollars in hundred dollar bills!"

Next morning, I passed the front desk in the hotel lobby on my way out for breakfast. The desk clerk called me over to pick up a message.

"A young man left this for you last night, asked us not to bother you until morning."

I took the white envelope and sat down in the lobby to open it and read:

"Dear Rick,

I don't think Key West is for me. Probably go to L.A, maybe New York. Get a job as a dancer in a gay club, see what's out there in the rest of the world. I took Marco's metal lock box. Haven't got it opened yet, but I need some money to get away and start my life. Thanks for everything you've done for me, I will pay you back when I can. I will always love you,

Your 'Boy Toy',

Brad."