Seduced by Shark Shifters II: Logan's Tail

Chapter One

CHAPTER ONE

It still had only been about two years since my mother died, and the idea of abandoning my father, even at his request, didn’t leave me feeling good, but Dad insisted I go.

“I really think you’re brother has gone a little crazy down there, and he’s not listening to me,” my father said. “I’m hoping that you can talk some sense into him.”

The whole idea seemed crazy. Sam was in law school. I was home with a recently earned English degree, no job, no prospects, and the expectation from my father, who thinks I am talented, that I should be seriously working on my first novel. I had not written a word.

How was I supposed to tell Sam how to live his life? Sam was the one always telling me to pull my head out of my ass, and I hate to admit it, but Sam was always right. He gave great advice. I was frequently screwing up and not seeing the big picture, and Sam was always there to bail me out. Like the time I stole my parents’ car when I was fourteen and wrecked it. It was Sam I called. He immediately came to the scene and had his friend Brady take me home and sneak me in a window they had left open for me. While I was covering my ass, so was Sam. He got into the driver’s seat and called my parents and told them that he was the one who had smashed the car into a stop sign while switching radio channels. I remember the way my parents looked at Sam the next morning, and how my mom said to me, “Well, I’m glad you’re not doing crazy stuff, Logan.”

I tried not to laugh when she said it. That was probably the first time in my life that anyone had ever said that to me. I was always the one getting into trouble at school, the one whose teacher was calling because I was reading “something entirely inappropriate and too mature.” I was the one whose soccer coach phoned because I blew off soccer practice to swim at the beach, and the one whose math teacher emailed because I wrote stories during math.

Of course Sam wasn’t the only one who knew how to deal with my screw-ups. My parents were really understanding about them also. For instance when they moved me from soccer into the swim team, even though my dad had played on the American Olympic Soccer Team when he was young. Or when my mom picked up the “too mature” book from my teacher and then read it. My mother walked into my room that night and said, “Hey, I know you’re curious, but you’re only fourteen and I don’t like the way women are portrayed in this book.” She handed me a book that was different from the one she had picked up from my teacher.

“Maybe this can be our compromise. It’s a little racy, but more appropriate for your age. You can let me know what you think.”

I looked at the book, and then at her. The book did look mildly interesting, but nothing like the one I had been reading at school.

“Okay, I’ll try it,” I said grudgingly.

The next morning at breakfast I was still holding the book she had given me. I had finished it. Thank God it was the weekend and I didn’t have school. When Mom walked into the kitchen, I pounced on her.

“Okay, it’s a deal. It’s our compromise, if we can go to the library and get everything else this woman’s written,” I said.

My father looked up from his morning paper and then at the title of the book. He raised an eyebrow and looked at my mother.

“He’s reading,” she said to my father. “The youth librarian recommended it. She said he wouldn’t put it down. This author wins awards for the way she draws in teens.”

My father nodded at her and smiled.

“You’re good at this,” he said to her.

My mother smiled back at him, and then she looked at me and said, “It’s a deal, but you need to read them at home. You might have that teacher for the rest of the year, and she’s not terribly open-minded.”

“Deal!” I shouted. “It’s almost summer time. Only two weeks left. I’ll read them at home until summer, and then I’ll have them read by the time school starts.”

I did finish reading everything that woman had written by the time the next school year started. Then my mother took me to the library again, and again. It became our ritual. Anytime I had a bad day, or even stayed home sick from school, my mother would take me to the library. One time I was in a bathrobe and slippers when we went.

“Sometimes, you just need to escape,” she said.

And I did. I escaped. And escaped. And escaped. I read everything I could, every time I could. I ended up getting along really well with that English teacher when I had her the next year again; that was the only class I had consistent A’s in. My other passion was swimming.

That was something we all did. Not only did I spend my early mornings at swim team practice before school every day, but my parents loved to take Sam and me to the ocean as much as possible. Sometimes, we spent all weekend swimming at the beach. Our house was only a half-hour away, and it was my other escape. Sam says he went to Suncoast for law school because he got a full scholarship, but I think he went because it was close to the water, and to Dad.

Looking back, I realize how lucky I was to have parents who were so understanding, and so loving. As an adult, I realize my mother was right, the book my teacher took from me was too old for me, and it didn’t show women how it should have. Also, if my mom had never introduced me to the other author, I may never have found my love of reading. My parents always seemed to know how to do the right thing.

I guess that’s why I was so surprised when my father wanted me to go to Suncoast and talk to Sam. The only time I ever remember him being this upset with Sam was over the whole car thing, and like I said, that wasn’t really Sam’s doing. So I asked him.

“Dad, do you really have a problem with Sam being gay?”

“It’s not that I have a problem with Sam being gay,” my father said. “It’s just that…”

Here’s where I was expecting him to say something stupid. There comes a point in some conversations when people are discussing gay people and then someone says something completely stupid, the kind of thing that makes you think that maybe that person is kind of an asshole, or dumb. I sighed. I really didn’t want to lose any respect for Dad right then.

Like many people in the South, my parents were religious. They were religious in the sense that we said grace before dinner, and people looked at you funny if you said, “God damn it,” somehow or another thinking that you were damning God, when in reality you were asking God to damn the dresser you stubbed your toe on or the people in front of you in traffic. Although they were religious, my parents were also really loving. Whatever their ideas about God, the biggest one they had was that he was full of love. We had never really talked about the gay thing, not because we were scared of it, but because we probably thought we never needed to. My parents had a few gay friends, and one of my mother’s brothers was gay. My best friend, Tom, was gay, and my parents were always glad to have him around. But I guess now that Sam went off and got himself two boyfriends our conversations were going to head in a different direction. I had to get this over with.

“So what is it, Dad?”

“It’s not that he’s gay, Logan,” my father said again, and then he gave me his serious look. “It’s that he’s suddenly gay. Your brother has always had a level head and known what he wanted out of life, and I don’t ever remember guys coming into his wish list. I mean, where did this suddenly come from? He’s twenty-five. Tom knew when you guys were college freshmen and he was eighteen, Logan. And Loge, Sam’s living with two guys. C’mon, that’s not normal. They’re probably just using him for money or s*x or something.”

“Have you seen them, Dad? Do you remember the picture he sent us? They’re twins, Dad, and I’m not gay, but they’re hot. They’re smoking hot. Like model hot. And they’re rich, Dad. Not just a little rich either. They’re like fabulously rich, Dad. They’re private jet rich. The house they’re staying in this summer is on the ocean with an infinity pool and gates, and it’s one of several houses their family owns.”

“That’s another thing,” my father said. “Logan was supposed to come home to us this summer. Instead, he’s shacking up with them.”

‘Hmmm, Dad, let’s see. Home with your widowed father and goofy brother who is unemployed and fresh out of college, or spending the summer in a beach house with two hot twins that you’re in love with? If these twins were girls, we wouldn’t be having this discussion.”

“That’s not entirely true, Loge. I would like Sam to come home to us this summer. If they really are in love, why can’t they all stay here?”

“Okay, Dad, our house is nice, but you’re retired now and I’m home all day. That wouldn’t give them a lot of privacy, and who knows, maybe they thought you might not be cool about this whole thing,” I said sarcastically.

“I am trying to respect your brother’s choices,” my father said.

“Well, anyway, Sam said they are living in this house as some sort of punishment for the next few months. The boys can’t go too far away this summer. Their parents have signed them up for volunteer law work, whatever the hell that is. It’s all near Suncoast and some is even in conjunction with the law school. Sam’s going to join them in doing that. It’s not too bad. Sam said they even have a chauffeur nanny guy. He’s supposed to watch after them.”

“And that doesn’t alarm you, Logan? I find it kind of odd that two twenty-five year old men need a nanny.”

“Well, Sam said they were kind of bad asses when they were younger.”

“Thanks, Logan. You really know how to make Dear Old Dad not stress.”

“Well, they’re better now, Dad. Sam said they are more like him now, and that that’s one reason they are in love with him.”

“This whole thing sounds entirely crazy,” my father said. “By the way, these days Sam’s not exactly someone other people need to go around acting like.”

“Well, he just finished his first year of law school with flying colors, and he’s still got his full scholarship. He’s spending the summer in a beach house with hot twins who he’s probably doing every night. I think everyone wants to be him.”

“Okay, Logan. Enough. Sometimes you make things sound worse than I imagine them. Remember, I am your father, and there are some things I don’t want to hear. I am just glad you’re going down there.”

“Speaking of which, what am I supposed to do, just go down there and ask if he’s okay?”

“No, you’re going to live on the campus of Suncoast University in the fall, and I’ve rented a little place near the boys for you this summer.”

“Well, living on the Suncoast campus in the fall is going to be a little odd since I’m not a student there,” I said.

“Well, Logan, I have a little surprise for you,” my father said. “I took the liberty of filling out an application for you to Suncoast’s MFA program. It’s supposed to be an excellent program. Congratulations! You were accepted.”

“What?! How did you…?” I yelled, stunned. Was he for real?

“I sent off a few of the stories you let me read, and then I created an email account with your name and emailed some of your undergraduate professors and asked them to write letters of recommendation for you. I filled out an application online and used the new email address for all of your correspondence. Oh, I also arranged for your GRE scores to be sent. It was a lot of work.”

I looked at him, dumbfounded. I knew that there were parents who intruded, but mine had never been that way. I knew my father believed in me, but this was ridiculous.

“You don’t see anything wrong with this?” I asked.

“Not at all. I know you didn’t have the confidence in your own writing to send this off, so I sent it.”

I stared at him again. When had he become this overly pushy person?

“I need some air,” I said, and stormed out of the house, slamming the front door behind me.