Boystown Season Five Read online

  “Neither is Derek. I’ve tried several times. They’re probably still in the air.”

  Before Jesse could add a comment, Keith rushed into the room. His clothes still bloody and wearing two bandages on his forehead, Keith got everyone’s attention without saying one word.

  “Stormy!” Michael said, concerned. He instinctively embraced Keith, but then checked his emotions, mentally reminded himself that Keith and he were no longer a couple, and reverted to a more professional tone. “What happened to you?”

  Keith tried to catch his breath. “It’s Jensen. He saved my life.”

  “Saved your life how?”

  “There was a car. It was coming right toward me. Jensen pushed me out of the way. He got hit. It’s really bad. The ambulance just got him here.”

  “I’ll go see what I can find out,” Mateo said as he left the room.

  Michael looked at Keith. “Are you sure you’re okay? You’ve got blood all over you.”

  “It’s from Jensen. Oh, Michael, it’s really bad.”

  “Did the paramedics say anything?” Cole asked.

  Keith shook his head. “Nothing. Not to me anyway. I have to let Emmett know.”

  “Did the driver at least stop?” Jesse asked.

  Keith shook his head again. “No. It happened so fast. The car came out of nowhere and then vanished.”

  “We’ll find him,” Michael declared. “You’re sure you’re okay?”

  “I’m okay. I’ll be fine.”

  “Logan’s here, too,” Cole added.

  “Logan? Why?”

  “He tried to kill himself,” Jesse explained.

  “Oh, no.”

  “Mateo said he’s stable and resting. I want to go up and see him,” Jesse stated. “And you need to calm down. Maybe the doctor can give you something.”

  “I’ll be okay,” Keith said again. “I’m just worried about Jensen.”

  Cole sighed. “What a night…”

  While the men waited for news about their friends, Jacqueline was resting in her hospital room in St. Louis. Dr. Collins quietly entered the room and approached her bed. After a moment, Jacqueline opened her eyes.

  “How are you doing?” he asked.

  “I’m okay,” Jacqueline said quietly. “How’s my baby?”

  Dr. Collins sat down on the edge of Jacqueline’s bed. “It’s hard to say. She’s very small and very weak.”

  “But she’s going to make it? She has to.”

  “Jacqueline, she is very premature and there are a number of issues. She has several intraventricular hemorrhages. They are very serious.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Basically, there is bleeding in her brain in several places. Your daughter’s bleeds are grade four, the most severe. And she has respiratory issues as well. It’s very serious.”

  Jacqueline’s eyes filled with tears. “So what do we do for her?”

  “Her issues are a bit beyond our capabilities here. With your permission, we are going to transfer her up to St. Joseph Hospital in Chicago. They have the best NICU doctors in the Midwest. She’ll get the best care there and those doctors will help you make decisions regarding her treatment and care.”

  “I know that hospital well. You have my permission to transfer her. Can I see her first?”

  “Of course. But you have been through a lot tonight. Your body needs time to rest and heal as well.”

  “I’ll feel better if you let me see her,” Jacqueline stated, slowly trying to get out of bed.

  Dr. Collins took her arm to assist her. “Here, let me help you. We’ll take it slowly.”

  “My daughter has to be okay, Doctor. She just has to be.”

  In San Francisco, Camille Ciancio, Carlo’s much younger sister, was seated at the desk in the study of her condominium. She turned her chair away from the desk to look at the city skyline visible through the glass doors leading to her outdoor terrace.

  Always beautifully dressed, Camille was wearing a black jacket and skirt with white accents and a black hat with a large brim edged in white. Her skin was flawless and her makeup highlighted her eyes and lips.

  Holding her cell phone to her ear, she stood up and walked closer to the window as she listened to the person on the other end of the call. Eventually, she responded.

  “They’re all on their way here for the wedding,” Camille stated. “The timing is perfect. We strike now...and they’ll never know what hit them.”

  At the same time in Chicago, Dr. MacMahon entered the emergency room waiting area in search of Keith, whom he found pacing at the far end of the room.

  “Keith, I’m glad I found you.”

  “Do you have an update on Jensen? How is he?”

  “I’m afraid it’s not good. We’re prepping him for surgery right now.”

  “Oh, my God.”

  “He has internal bleeding in his lower abdomen as well as swelling in his brain.”

  Keith dropped into the chair behind him. Dr. MacMahon took the seat next to Keith.

  “Does Jensen have any family that we should notify?”

  Keith shook his head. “Not that I know of. The only true family he has is Emmett.”

  “Have you been able to reach him?”

  “I’ve called and texted him, but I haven’t heard back yet.”

  “Well, please keep trying. And I’ll keep you posted as soon as there’s any news. You know our team will do its best to save Jensen.”

  Outside the emergency room doors, Michael was leaving the hospital to head back to the station. He exited through the automatic doors of the ER and walked to his car, which was parked curbside adjacent to the doors.

  He walked around the front of his car and stopped as he approached the driver door. In disbelief, he looked at the spray-painted message covering the side of his car in red paint: FAG COP.

  Not far from the hospital, Hugo rushed into Rachel’s hotel room. He looked for her in the living room area of the suite, then in the bedroom area, and then in the bathroom. After realizing that she wasn’t there, he pulled his phone from his pocket.

  Hugo frantically placed a call to Rachel and waited for her to answer. Instead he got her voicemail. He ended the connection without leaving a message and tossed the phone onto the bed.

  “Dammit, Rachel. Where the hell are you?”

  On the far south side of Chicago in a small motel room, Ben Donovan rolled on top of Rachel’s naked body. He kissed her neck as she ran her hands up his hard biceps. Grinding his hips into her, Ben adjusted his position to drill deeper into Rachel, who wrapped her arms more tightly around him.

  Kissing his chest, Rachel ran her tongue over the burn scars that covered much of his muscular body. She let out soft moans each time Ben forced his cock farther into her. Running her feet along his legs, she eventually slid her hands down his back to his smooth ass.

  “Take it, baby,” Ben mumbled before working his tongue into Rachel’s mouth. His thrusts grew increasingly more violent as he grew closer to cumming. With one power push, Ben exploded inside of her.

  Rachel held Ben tightly as she welcomed his seed into her for the second time in the past hour. She kissed his shoulder as he rolled off of her, his long penis finally slipping out of her.

  “Oh, baby,” Ben said with a smile. “That was fucking hot.”

  Rachel smiled and ran her fingers over his chest. “Even hotter than it was twenty minutes ago.”

  “I’m sorry, baby,” Ben sighed. “When I’m around you, I just can’t help myself. You are so fucking sexy and...”

  “Shh,” Rachel interrupted Ben as she sat up in bed to look more closely at the TV. “Turn it up.”

  Ben grabbed the TV remote and turned up the volume so they could hear the “breaking news” that was being announced over the airwaves.

  “...jet has crashed in northern California, just west of the Nevada border. Again, a private jet has crashed in northern California. The jet, apparently one of the fleet owned by Cianci
o International, was carrying nine passengers and three crew members from Chicago to San Francisco. Carlo Ciancio, president of Ciancio International, and his two sons Gino and Marco are believed to be among the passengers. Authorities are traveling to the site of the crash in search of survivors...”

  “You did it,” Rachel said, giving Ben a kiss. “You did it.”

  “I told you I’d handle it, baby. Those people will never bother any of us again.”

  Rachel got up out of bed and walked over to the dresser on which the television sat. She picked her clothes up from the floor and quickly pulled them on.

  “Aww, baby,” Ben said, “don’t go. We aren’t done celebrating yet.”

  Rachel finished dressing and then pulled a pair of gloves from her purse. “We had a job to do and we did it,” Rachel declared, putting on her gloves.

  Ben looked down at his dick, which was growing erect yet again. “See what you do to me, baby? Let me give it to you one more time.”

  Rachel pulled a handgun from her purse and pointed it directly at Ben. “Save it for some whore you meet in hell.”

  Without hesitation, Rachel fired the gun twice, hitting Ben once in the head and once in the chest. Blood splattered over the bed as well as the wall behind it.

  Rachel returned the gun to her purse, grabbed her coat, turned off the light, and left the motel room. Ben’s lifeless, naked body rested on the bed in the darkness of the room while Rachel disappeared into the darkness of the evening. In spite of all that was occurring throughout the city, the night seemed unusually quiet.

  Episode #42

  Sometimes there is little comfort to be found in life’s plan. People often say that things happen for a reason or life works out the way it’s supposed to, but those sentiments offer little comfort during a time of grief, pain, and loss.

  The thick, black smoke emanating from the destroyed Ciancio jet covered the area making it difficult for survivors of the crash to locate others. In fact, upon impact with the hilly ground, passengers had been thrown from the plane in myriad directions.

  Gino Ciancio found himself lying on the ground a good distance from what was left of the plane. His face scraped and his clothes torn, he tried to look around before getting up, but the smoke surrounding him made it difficult.

  Gino called out from where he was. “Justin! Father!” When he heard nothing back, Gino slowly stood up and stumbled in the direction that he thought might bring him closer to the plane wreckage. “Justin!”

  “Over here,” a voice called to Gino. He walked in the direction of the voice and was greeted by a warm embrace.

  “Thank God you’re okay,” Justin Mancini said as he wrapped his arms around his future husband. “I started to panic when I couldn’t find you. There’s a cliff over there that falls down to a river. I thought you may have gone over.”

  “I’m here,” Gino replied, kissing Justin. “And I’m okay.”

  “I love you,” Justin declared, hugging Gino once again.

  “I love you, too. Have you seen anyone else?”

  Justin shook his head. “Not yet. I think we were all thrown in every direction.”

  “Our pilot did the best he could to minimize the impact.”

  “I haven’t seen him, either.”

  “Come on,” Gino said. “Let’s find them.”

  Gino took Justin by the hand and they continued their search for survivors.

  At the same time, Jesse Morgan sat beside Logan Pryce’s hospital bed at St. Joseph Hospital. He held Logan’s hand and watched him sleep as Mateo Martinez quietly entered the room.

  “How’s he doing?”

  “Still resting,” Jesse whispered. “He looks so peaceful.”

  “That’s good, he needs the rest. The only reason he’s alive is because of you.”

  “I can’t imagine life without him.”

  “Let’s step out into the hall a moment,” Mateo suggested.

  Jesse rose and followed Mateo into the hospital corridor.

  “We won’t disturb him out here. I want to talk to you about next steps.”

  “Of course,” Jesse said. “Whatever we need to do to make him well again.”

  “People attempt suicide for a variety of reasons -- depression, despair, anxiety, stress. The bottom line is that they need help and support to get back on track. And you’ve talked to me before about Logan’s drinking as well.”

  “And his scars from the fire,” Jesse added. “You’ve got to help him with those, too.”

  Mateo continued expressing his thoughts. “His actions tonight were definitely a cry for help that we cannot ignore.”

  “What are you suggesting we do?”

  “I think it’s best that we enroll him in the hospital’s rehab and wellness program.”

  Jesse sighed. “What does that involve?”

  “It’s one of the best in the nation. Logan would start as an in-patient for the first week or so and then continue out-patient. The first week is intense and we keep the patients here to work with and monitor them. Then they are released and placed on a regular schedule of counseling sessions. Over time, they develop their schedule with their counselor.”

  “That sounds like just what Logan needs. He’s tried to deal with his drinking and depression on his own and look where he ended up.”

  “I’ve already arranged for Logan to work with the program’s new director, Dr. Patrick Provenzano. He’s the best there is. In fact, we were lucky enough to steal him away from his previous location and bring him here to St. Joe’s. One of my better achievements as Chief of Staff, I must admit.”

  “Provenzano. I know that name. Aren’t they the Mancinis’ attorneys?”

  “Yes,” Mateo explained. “Patrick is their cousin. Believe me, there’s no one better.”

  “Then let’s do it.”

  “It’s not going to be easy at first. Logan will need to do the heavy lifting. No one can do this work for him. And no visitors the first week, either.”

  “He needs to do this for himself,” Jesse agreed. “I completely understand. Just let me know how I can best support him.”

  A loud sigh came from inside Logan’s room.

  “He must be waking up,” Jesse said.

  “You go and talk with him a bit,” Mateo directed. “But don’t mention the program just yet. I’ll be back up shortly. I need to get downstairs and check on Dustin.”

  Jesse nodded and re-entered Logan’s room as Mateo headed for the elevator.

  “Hey there,” Jesse said, smiling and sitting down next to the bed. “How are you doing?”

  “You saved my life,” Logan whispered. “Why?”

  “Because I love you,” Jesse replied, his eyes tearing slightly. “And I don’t want to live without you.”

  “You would be better off. I was trying to free you from me.”

  Jesse took Logan’s hand. “Don’t ever do anything that stupid again. Do you hear me? I love you and we are meant to be together.”

  “Jesse, you--”

  “Shh,” Jesse whispered. “Don’t say another word. I am going to help you get better. You have a lot of friends who love you very much. We are all going to help you.”

  “What if I don’t want to be helped?”

  “Logan, stop it. Please. It hurts when you say shit like that. Do you realize what you mean to me? You have to get better...for yourself and for us.”

  Logan raised his hand to Jesse’s cheek. “I’m sorry. I love you very much, too. I promise I’ll try.”

  Jesse leaned forward and embraced Logan, who closed his eyes to rest more.

  Back in his apartment, Cole O’Brien stepped out of the shower. Being careful not to disturb the bandage on his arm, he dried off, pulled on a pair of Notre Dame shorts, shoved his toes into his flip flops, and headed in to the kitchen.

  He reached into a cabinet and pulled out some protein powder. He quickly mixed himself a shake and then sat down at the counter. Picking up his phone, he checked for messages
and, upon seeing there were none, called Derek again.

  Cole left another message on Derek’s voicemail: “Hey again. It’s just me. Hope you all made it safely. Like I said in my last message, there’s some stuff I have to tell you. Call me.”

  Cole put the phone down, clicked on the television with the remote, and looked over some of his photos from a recent Cio photo shoot. He sorted through the photos, putting them into two separate piles on the counter.

  When he looked up at the TV for the first time, he was stunned to see the coverage of the Ciancio plane crash. He quickly grabbed the remote to turn up the volume.

  “...authorities are now searching for survivors.”

  “Oh, my God,” Cole mumbled. “Derek.”

  Lying not too far from the plane wreckage, Derek Mancini pushed himself up from the ground and wiped the blood from his forehead. He brushed debris from his torn clothes and looked around in every direction for other passengers. Looking over the edge of the nearby cliff, he saw the river far below.

  A voice yelled to him. “Derek! Over here! I need your help.”

  Derek followed the voice through the smoke until he reached Max Taylor.

  “I need your help,” Max pleaded. “It’s Emmett.”

  Derek looked down to see his brother pinned beneath the large piece of the plane’s wing.

  “Oh, God,” Derek said.

  “He’s alive,” Max explained. “But unconscious. You have to help me move the wing off him.”

  “Are you okay?” Derek asked, repositioning himself on the other side of the wing remnant.

  “I’m fine,” Max stated. “Just a few bruises. I’m more worried about him.”

  “It’s okay,” Derek continued. “We’ll get him out.”

  Max leaned over to grab one end of the wing. “Grab your end,” he instructed Derek, who did as he was told.

  Bruised and obviously upset, David Young rushed over to Max and Derek.