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nineteen-year-old virgin.

Nothing to this point in Gerald Green's life had prepared him for the sensation of George Saunders bucking against him as though riding a bull in a rodeo. Green lasted exactly three minutes before coming, yelling so loud that his voice echoed off the walls of the hallway.

“After that, we were inseparable.” Gerald was lost in thought. “Two years of bliss. It was. . . and probably still is. . . the best time of my life. But it didn't last. Sometime before Georgie's twenty-third birthday, Nathaniel Saunders became suspicious of the time his son was spending over at my house. He decided to investigate.”

“He caught you?”

Green nodded. “Fucking his son over the breakfast table. It was, to say the least, a scene.”

He explained that both he and George were forced to agree never to see one another again. To help distance himself from the pain, Gerry met a young woman in town and married her shortly thereafter. Nathaniel arranged for his son to do the same.

“After that, did you ever—”

The older man shook his head. “No. When I married Cheryl, I made a commitment to her. In front of our friends, our family, and to God. I respected that vow.” He nodded with a bittersweet expression, “And we had a wonderful life, Cheryl and I. Moved down the coast. I loved her. . . maybe differently that I did Georgie but I loved her all the same.” He stopped and looked at his empty glass. “She died of pneumonia seven years ago.”

They spoke a while longer, Dane absorbed in Green's revealing story. It explained so much of the history of Eldon Court, its early flirtation with the gay life when it was forbidden, how it affected those who wished to carry nonjudgmental love to the next generation. Then the bartender approached.

“I'm sorry but we're closing the patio for the evening now.”

They rose. Dane extended his hand to Gerald Green. “Thank you for meeting with me, Gerry. But I'm not sure how this is going to help us.”

Green slapped his forehead. “I almost forgot. See, this is what you get when you let an old man ramble.” He held up two fingers. “Two things, quickly, before you go home. First, I told you all of this for a reason. . .” The reason, it turned out, could be the solution that Dane and Sawyer and all of their neighbors had been looking for.

“And second, I wanted to arrange an exchange.” Dane gave Green a puzzled look. “I'd like my photo back. And in return. . .”

Gerald handed Dane a sheaf of papers.

“I can't understand a word of it. Way over my old head. But someone else might. Albert Einstein left them in the house when they rushed him away one night in secret. Some early notes on a thing he was noodling on.”

Dane read, “Unified field theory?”

“He called it the theory of everything. Told me about it over supper one night. According to him, everything in the universe is connected.”

They walked to the parking lot. Dane promised Green that he'd return the photograph, if it were among his things in the morning. He explained that Sawyer's parents had kicked them out of their house.

“Michael Block?”

Dane nodded. “But I'll see what I can do—”

They were suddenly bathed in the headlights of a car parked just near the entrance to the Bayside Hotel. Two men jumped from the car and rushed forward. Green fell down, his bad leg failing him. Dane sidestepped the dark figure coming at him and, for a moment, squared off with his attacker.

Then a silvery streak burst onto the scene. A two-toned horn pierced the air. And Sawyer's Porsche crashed directly into the side of the black Cadillac with a thunderous crash. Dane didn't wait to see what would happen next. He swept his opponent's legs with his foot and, as the man dropped, punched him squarely in the neck. That took the wind out of him.

Vertigo tugged at Sawyer as he forced his door open and moved to help Dane. It was too dark to see the thugs clearly but easy enough to determine who was a friend and who wasn't. Not friendly at all was the guy who turned from the old man and charged at Sawyer from the left. Without thinking, Sawyer positioned himself for a hip throw, a move that until now, he hadn't been able to pull off. This time, he got it right. Sawyer swiveled his hip to meet his attacker and naturally placed his foot on the outside of the man's right shoe. Then he rotated at the waist, grabbing his attacker's wrist. Simple physics did the rest. The man sailed into the air. He collided against the chassis of the mashed-up Porsche.

“Way to go, Saws!”

That signaled the end of the melee. The men in black rose and fled into the night.

Dane checked on Gerald Green, who was sore but otherwise unharmed. That's when he realized—

“Oh shit! They took Einstein's papers!”

Sawyer placed a comforting hand on Green's shoulder. “Sorry about your stuff, Mr. Einstein. But at least you're okay.”

* * * *

Very unusual to have such an early visitor, let alone any visitor, thought the caretaker. But he answered the door in his most professional manner and, at the insistence of the guest, showed him in. It took a while to dress Mr. Saunders to receive this stranger, but soon, the servant wheeled him into the small living room.

George was particularly distant today, muttering to himself with a far-off, glazed-over gaze. The caretaker doubted he was even aware of what was happening around him. Cognitive dysfunction, the doctors claimed.

Now, George's eyes wandered randomly around the room, almost avoiding contact with the visitor. But when they did settle on him, his look steely and focused, something miraculous happened. He stopped fidgeting. His gaze focused. And tears welled in his eyes.

Saunders’ hands tightened on the arms of his wheelchair, as though he were about to try and rise on his own accord.

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