Chapter 12 - The Man Who Sold The World

“THIS is a ‘Campground’?” Brian asked for the tenth time as he pulled the RV into the slot they’d been assigned by the ‘Camp Host’. “I know I’m a city boy, and I’ve never actually been camping myself, but I always pictured a campground as something involving tents and lots of trees and nature and shit . . . This place is basically a glorified parking lot.”

Brian looked around him at the RV Campground that Justin had found online and insisted that they stop at for the night. It was mostly just a flat parcel of ground with rows of cement pads set up for RVs to pull into. They were all spaced about fifteen meters apart without anything between one slot and the next. There were a few spindly looking trees scattered around, but nothing that screamed out woods let alone forest. Each parking spot did have a fire pit with a metal surround and flip top grill attached - which was kind of campground like, Brian figured. And, as it turned out, the space they’d been assigned to was on the edge of the campground so that on the right side of their RV there was nothing but a big open field - which was as close to ‘Nature’ as it looked like they were going to get.

“Cool! They’ve got a swimming pool, an exercise room and even a hot tub,” Justin gushed, reading through the brochure that the Campground Host had given them when they’d pulled in. “Can we try out the hot tub, Brian. I’ve always wanted to try one. They sound so cozy.”

“You’re just proving my point, here, Sunshine,” Brian stated as the RV rolled to a stop and he carefully set the parking brake. “Instead of a campground, I feel like I’m being lured into the Borg Collective, where I’m assigned a slot and then hooked up with wires and hoses to the collective mind.” Brian looked down at the flyer he’d been given that showed how to get the RV connected to the camp’s power and water lines. It looked even more complicated than that generator thing had been. Shit, why wasn’t there ever a helpful dyke with power tools around when you needed one?

“Please, Brian! I’ve never been in a swimming pool or a hot tub before. Please, can we go!” Justin followed Brian down the stairs and out the door of the RV, hopping around like a mexican jumping bean and begging Brian pathetically.

“Stop jumping around! Yes. You can go to the pool, Sunshine. But not until you help me get this thing hooked up to all the wires and cables and shit. Camping my ass . . .”

Brian stood in front of the standing reciprocal next to their RV pad and stared at the metal box where he was supposed to somehow connect his new RV to the camp’s power grid and cable television service. There were lots of empty holes where he assumed he’d have to plug something in. He just didn’t know what to plug in. He looked back at the RV as if some helpful wires and cables would just snake their way out of the vehicle and attach themselves. That didn’t happen though. It was looking like Brian was going to have to get mechanical again.

“Here, Brian,” Justin, thankfully, came running to his aid with the operating manual opened to a new page showing even more technical diagrams. “There should be cables and stuff behind that panel there. And you hook them up like in this picture . . .”

Using that guide, Brian did manage to find the panel that, once opened, revealed a mishmash of different cables and wires. Apparently some of those wires were supposed to be inserted into the box next to their parking space. Which ones went where was the problem. There seemed to be a lot of them and they were labeled with strange abbreviations that didn’t seem to correspond to the abbreviations on the flyer the Host had given him. It took Brian several tries to realize that these weird wires were designed to fit in a particular way. By the time he was able to figure out the pattern, his hands were painfully swollen both from the effort and because he’d scraped his knuckles more than a few times. But he thought he probably had at least the power and the cable hooked up right.

The water service was another matter. Nestled inside the rearmost storage hatch Brian found three gargantuan tanks full of liquid. Hanging on the hatch door, there was a hose that Brian assumed was supposed to be used to hook one or more of these up to the camp’s water supply. The question was, which tank did he attach it to?

“Howdy, Neighbor!” The loud, gregarious, southern twanged voice startled Brian so much that he dropped the hose he’d been holding and then bumped his head on the metal frame of the hatch when he bent to pick it up. “Welcome to the Twin Falls RV Park! Mabel and I are set up next door, so I thought I’d mosey over and introduce myself. I’m Hank Pearson.” The short, rosy faced man with the shaggy grey beard and enormous pot belly held out his hand congenially towards Brian - Brian shook it but dropped the hose again in the process. “Looks like you’re in need of a hand . . . or four.” The portly man laughed so robustly that his shaking belly and increasingly rosier cheeks reminded Brian of a bearded mall Santa. “I’m an old hand at this RV shit. Me and the Mrs. have been back and forth across the country about five times now, so I can pretty much hook up one of these rigs in my sleep. Let me see that hose and I’ll have you set up in no time. Here, hold this for me, son,” Hank passed his beer can to Brian, took the hose from him and in less than five minutes had them hooked up to the water supply.

“See . . . nothing to it youngster. Hope you were paying attention. You don’t want to be getting your black water tank mixed up with your fresh water tank. Har har har har!”

“Hank, Honey, I thought you and our new neighbor could use a couple more beers,” a petite older woman with a big gap-toothed smile interrupted, handing one of the Coors tallboy cans she was carrying to her husband and the other to an appreciative but surprised Brian. “I’m Mabel. I’m this one’s better half. I hope he hasn’t talked your ear off yet. He does tend to make friends a little too easily. But, then again, that’s one of the good things about living in an RV - there’s always someone new that hasn’t already heard all of Hank’s stories. And it’s better that you have to listen to them than me for the thousandth time.” Despite her slightly bitter words, the woman was looking at her man with a doting smile and Brian got a very contented feeling from the couple. “Now, don’t you be shy if you or your wife need anything. I’ve got just about everything you could imagine tucked away in our RV. So, if you need anything for dinner fixin’s just send her right over. You hear!”

“Thanks, but I don’t have a wife. I have a . . . Justin!” Brian hollered the name loudly, seeking reinforcements before having to deal with the ‘neighbors’ on his own any longer.

“Hey, Brian. I was digging in the closets and drawers and stuff and I found swimsuits for us so we can go to the pool,” Justin said as he poked his head out of the RVs door, waving two smallish pieces of clothing in the air as evidence.

“Well. Hello there, young man. We were just getting acquainted out here. I’m Mabel and this is my hubby, Hank. Welcome to Twin Falls,” said the grandmotherly woman.

“Hi! I’m Justin. It’s very nice to meet you Ma’am, Sir. We were just going to head to the pool. Would you like to come for a swim with us?”

Mabel chuckled softly and replied that they were thinking of heading over there in a bit themselves. And then, she proposed, the boys could come back over for another beer after their swim. Justin gave her one of his blindingly happy smiles and then ducked back inside to get changed into his swimsuit.

“Hmmmm. Well, that boy’s quite a little cutie, isn’t he? Now, you said you didn’t have a wife, and since there’s no resemblance between you two, I’d say you couldn’t be brothers. You’re not old enough to be his father. So that leaves nephew or step-son . . . or?” Mabel winked in Brian’s direction, fixing her shawl tighter around her shoulders and moving closer to Hank.

“Uh . . . Justin’s not my nephew, and I’ve never been married.” Brian nervously rubbed the back of his neck, uncertain of how much disclosure was deemed safe in this situation. But, since both Hank and Mabel just kept staring at him expectantly, Brian finally decided to just get it over with and hope for the best. “Justin happens to be my . . . my boyfriend.” Brian cringed at using the ‘b’ term, but figured that was the easiest thing for these folks to understand.

There was an awkward moment of silence before either Mabel or Hank could find the words to respond to this confession. “Oh . . . Well, I uh . . . Now, that’s different. Isn’t it, Hank?” Mabel seemed a bit tongue tied and flustered but not all that taken aback by Brian’s disclosure.

“Son, what Mabel is trying to say is . . . Well, what she means to say is . . . We never met no gays before, but I’ve seen a lot of different things in my life - lots of different types of people, too - and I try not to judge. You two seem like decent folks so far, so I guess it’s all good. No worries,” Hank clapped Brian on the shoulder amicably and smiled from behind his large-framed, tinted-lensed glasses. “Now, I’ll just grab us a couple of drinks and we’ll all head on over to the pool. You ever had a Coors Clamato before? No? Well, you’re gonna love it.”

Brian was still sipping at the weird but surprisingly good tasting beer/clam juice/tomato drink that Hank had forced on him while the two men were sitting by the pool watching Justin cavorting in the water as Mabel did some kind of water aerobics in the shallow end. The young blond had instantly made friends with the two children who’d already been in the water - probably grandchildren of some of the park’s other RV residents - and the three of them were currently splashing around and trying to teach Justin how to swim. Brian was wondering how someone like Justin, who’d never been in a swimming pool before, was going to manage without drowning. Brian was a pretty strong swimmer himself, but he really didn’t relish the idea of having to dive in and rescue the boy either. Although, so far, Justin seemed to take to the water as easily as a baby otter, so maybe he was just a natural in this too.

Right about the time that Hank started to get up to go get them two more drinks - the man drank like a fucking fish, no wonder he had rosy cheeks all the time - Brian’s cell phone began to ring.

“Brian! Thank fuck, you finally picked up. I’ve been trying to get ahold of you all day!” Ted’s petulant voice screeched into Brian’s ear as soon as he’d answered the call. “Where the hell are you, anyway? You may not know it yet, but you’re already downwind of a Category Five Shitstorm and you need to get back here and deal with it right away.”

“Slow the fuck down, Theodore! I’m not even in the state. How could I be in any trouble?” Brian replied with a touch of annoyance.

“I think that’s WHY you’re in trouble, Brian,” Ted sounded worried even after he’d calmed down enough that he wasn’t yelling into the phone. “So, I was in the lounge this morning after breakfast and I heard a couple of the hospital staff talking about this patient who’d gone missing. Then I hear them talking about some video from the security cameras that seemed to show the guy leaving the hospital on Thursday night with a tall, thin, dark-haired, good looking guy. They were speculating that this dark-haired guy had either helped the patient escape or maybe even kidnapped him. Did you hear me, Brian? KIDNAPPED!” Ted yelled the word and Brian had to jerk the phone away from his ear to avoid going deaf. “Next thing I know they’re showing copies of the video feed and whose picture do you think I see . . . Please tell me, Brian, that you didn’t take home a cute little blond trick that you met somewhere around the hospital the night you came to visit me. Please?”

“Shit!” was Brian’s only reply.

“Fuck! That’s what I was afraid of,” Ted sounded defeated. “Brian . . . I saw the picture of the kid, and I know he looks adorable, but from what I hear this guy is seriously unhinged. They were saying he’s a dangerous schizophrenic. Apparently he was being held here for observation until the cops could decide whether or not he was sane enough to be charged with some violent crime. They wouldn’t tell the rest of us patients what the kid was accused of, but they kept telling everyone that he was dangerous and if we knew where he was at that we needed to tell them for everyone’s safety.” Ted’s voice had all of a sudden become much quieter, as if he was now worried about being overheard.

“It’s not like that at all, Theodore,” Brian insisted immediately, indignant that anyone would think that little Sunshine was at all dangerous or violent . . . notwithstanding the kid’s own admission about what had happened to his mother. “I didn’t kidnap him. He just sort of followed me out and then refused to go back. And I wasn’t going to force him. Besides, I don’t know what happened to Justin, but I really don’t think he’s all that crazy. I mean, besides the occasional panic attack and not liking shoes, I think he’s highly functional. Maybe even brilliant, in an unconventional way. But, it doesn’t really matter, because we’re on our way back to the Pitts. It might take a few days though.”

“Well, just hurry the fuck up already. I didn’t tell anyone that I recognized you, Brian, but it’s only a matter of time till somebody ID’s you. I mean they DO have your name on the visitor’s log and I’m sure they’ll be asking around. I won’t lie outright, especially if the cops start asking questions, but I won’t volunteer anything either. So, please, Brian, just get back here before they start asking me shit!”

“I’ll do my best, but things are a little . . . complicated right now,” Brian wondered just how much to explain to his friend, but then, as he watched Justin do a cannonball into the pool with a joyous look on his face, he decided that his friend just wouldn’t understand anyway. “We’ll be there when we get there, Theodore. I gotta go. Later.” Brian hung up and determined not to worry over Ted’s little rant since there really wasn’t anything he could do about it just then anyway. Instead, he decided to go join the kid in the pool after all.

After Justin was thoroughly waterlogged, Hank and Mabel had dragged them both back to their RV and forced them to join in what turned out to be a group BBQ. Several of the ‘neighbors’ were brought over and everyone introduced to the campground’s ‘Gay Boys’. Brian felt like an exhibit at the zoo - with everyone coming over to meet him and Justin and making a point to tell them about every single gay person they’d ever known in the past including their cousin’s odd children and those nice young men who’d lived down the block. They were all extremely polite, but Brian still felt like they were some curiosity that was being ogled. Justin however seemed like he was in seventh heaven as all the grandmotherly types fawned over him, insisting that he eat seconds of every single dish and making a point to send him home with extra helpings of dessert for later in the week.

After all the food was cleared away, Justin was drafted into playing a vicious game of Uno with the ladies seated around the picnic bench between the two RVs while the ‘men’ all sat around in camp chairs drinking and swapping stories. Brian was apparently included in with the ‘men’. He got to listen to a lot of stories from several of the older gentlemen who’d toured in Viet Nam, found out that Hank had ridden with the Hell’s Angels for about five years in his youth and that Bill used to race formula one race cars and even held the world’s land speed record for about two hours back in 1986.

Brian suspected that, even though they were all dealing reasonably well with the introduction of two gay men into their select circle, all these ‘manly’ stories were merely overcompensation. Brian didn’t think they’d be impressed by his tales of how he’d once managed to buy the entire Armani spring collection two months before it was actually released or how he’d fucked every hot guy, gay, straight or undecided back in the Pitts. Mostly he just sat quietly and sipped his Coors Clamato.

Until, that is, Hank spoke up. “So, what about you Brian . . . what do you do for a living?”

“I’m in advertising. I just started my own agency back in Pittsburgh. I was actually out in Oregon trying to drum up a new client.” Brian began.

Before he knew it the whole group was spellbound by Brian’s tales of the cutthroat world of advertising. They seemed suitably impressed when they heard that he’d actually won a CLIO award and a couple of them had even heard of a few of the campaigns he’d done while back at Ryder or Vanguard.

“YOU’RE the ‘Eat the Meat’ man? Mabel and I loved those commercials! That was a brilliant campaign. The ads were so memorable - you just couldn’t forget them. We still go to Frawley’s Steak Houses whenever there’s one around!” Hank chuckled, recalling that those commercials were funny yet a bit salacious. “Not bad for a young whippersnapper such as yourself. And, I may seem a bit of a hick, but even I caught that double entendre.”

“And my granddaughters were agog for those ‘Pool Boy’ wine coolers just for the labels!” Bill added his two cents in. “Those things tasted like piss water but the local liquor store couldn’t stock them fast enough.”

“Well, with ideas like that, I’m sure you’ll go far, young man,” Hank lauded Brian, who now felt just as manly and accomplished as the rest of them.

About that time, though, Justin came over, plopped down in Brian’s lap and started yawning. It had been a long couple of days and they hadn’t gotten much sleep the night before, so Brian determined it was time to call it a night. He made their excuses, handed out a few of his business cards to the ‘guys’ - who all promised to pass them along to various friends and relatives they knew who might need Brian’s services.

And then Brian bundled his beautiful blond off for their own private time in their own little piece of RV heaven.