Lean on Me
Copyright© 2025 by Danny January
Chapter 9
Romance Sex Story: Chapter 9 - The continuing chronicles of Jack Pierce. Autumn of 1982. The chronicles, in order are: 1. Feasting with a Silver Spoon 2. Summertime and the Livin' is Easy 3. Something Fishy Going On 4. Centerfield 5. Tourist Season 6. Lean on Me They are progressive and not meant to be stand-alone stories.
Caution: This Romance Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including mt/ft Consensual Heterosexual Fiction
Monday morning came far too early. Surprisingly, I wasn’t tired. Falling asleep on a swing at Waterfront Park probably wasn’t the smartest thing, but at least I’d actually slept. Fortunately, there weren’t any tests or quizzes that day.
At lunch, someone mentioned Halloween for the first time. Halloween is probably my least favorite holiday. While some of the girls were talking about Halloween and costumes, I made a mental list of my favorite holidays.
Thanksgiving was an obvious first choice because of the food. Christmas, then Fourth of July. Labor Day and Memorial Day had never been high on my list before, but when it turned into a good reason for a pool party at our house, they both climbed way up the list. Meanwhile, Cassidy and Gizmo were exploring the idea of hosting a party. Just what the world needed.
Kim leaned across the table, and I leaned forward to hear her. “Yesterday was the best. We got to help people, ride, and spend time together. That’s pretty much an ideal day, Aquaman.”
“Chicken. Don’t forget we got to eat a bunch of chicken.”
“And chicken. What a dufus.”
That afternoon, Coach put the starting blocks out. He asked me to give a demonstration. I did a great job. A wonderful job. I was, simply put, fantastic.
“Now, if Aquaman here, would do some legwork, he would really be able to show you a start, but since he has underdeveloped legs, not to mention tiny little flippers, you’ll just have to use your imaginations as to what a great start would look like.” I took a bow.
Coach paired up the new guys with experienced competitors so they could work on their starts. “Can we videotape this, Coach?”
“You have a cruel sense of humor, Aquaman. No, we cannot videotape this. People walking past on the other side of that wall can hear bellyflop after bellyflop. Don’t you think that’s embarrassing enough?”
“We could use it at the awards banquet when we announce the most improved swimmer.”
“Show them one after the other and let people vote? That’s a sick, twisted sense of humor that I like. I’d say ‘yes’ but we don’t have an awards dinner.”
“We could show that at the school talent show.”
“You’re a mess. Go get wet, Aquaman. By the sound of things, Mr. Sears could use your expertise. Help him before he ruptures something.”
A high-quality racing entry is so much different than a belly flop. There are only a couple of degrees difference. You want to extend and stay airborne for as long as you can without bellyflopping. Enter too early and you don’t get the full benefit of the starting blocks. Enter too late and you bellyflop. It’s a trial-and-error sort of thing. However, everyone who tries to perfect their racing start is highly motivated to do it right. Bellyflops hurt.
Billy Sears had had just about enough bellyflops to last him the season. You could tell from the sound of him entering the water, or by the pretty pink color of his front side. I demonstrated for him, gave him a couple of tips, and let him have at it. He was game, but he was in pain.
“Billy, go at it from the other direction.”
“What do you mean?”
“Try to enter short. Don’t try for distance. Try for smooth. Try to hit the water right here,” I said, pointing to a spot that he could easily make. “Humor me.” He hit that mark and climbed back on the blocks. I showed him where my hand had been, then moved it another six inches further away. He hit it again. I moved the mark three more times. Practice was about over.
“Look. Just stand up straight and look. Could you orient yourself to the pool, the lane lines, everything, so that you could come back tomorrow and hit this mark, even if my hand wasn’t there to mark the spot?”
“Definitely.”
“Good. Do it one more time, right now, to prove it to yourself. That’s your mark. Right there.” I climbed out of the pool and motioned for him to go for it. He did, and came up smiling.
I’d spent a lot more time coaching than swimming and had energy to burn. I climbed onto a starting block; did the same drill I’d told Billy to do. I marked an invisible spot in the water and took off. I churned out a very solid one hundred fly and felt pretty good about it, but had no idea what my time was. Coach had turned the clock to face the wall so we’d work on fundamentals rather than racing. I was ready to race.
“You won’t have much of a reach if you kick like that, Jack,” Coach hollered as I climbed out. “Your catch got shorter and shorter over distance because your kick wasn’t strong enough for more. Legs, legs, legs. Squats, box jumps, calf raises.” He called me Jack when he wanted to let me know I didn’t look much like Aquaman.
“I have tiny little flippers, Coach,” I said, pointing to my feet.
“All the more reason to do squats, box jumps, and calf raises.”
I showered and changed, then met Kim at my car. She was already in, with the top down, working on psychology homework. “Let’s swing by the record store on the way home,” I said, sliding into my seat. She gave me an eyebrow-up, look. “The Go-Go’s Vacation album has been out for a month, and I still don’t have it.”
“Great. Why don’t you pick up A Flock of Seagulls while you’re at it?” She hated the Go-Go’s.
“I don’t know how to waterski.” She gave me the eyebrows-up look again. “The Go-Go’s are waterskiing on the cover. I don’t know how. Never been.”
“Maybe you could get the Go-Go’s to teach you. Let’s go lift.”
We went home to lift. I’d buy Vacation when Kim wasn’t watching. I wouldn’t tell her. My lips were sealed. It was push day, but I did some leg work too, because I have tiny little flippers.
“I see you lifting, Buddy, but I see you tracked on something, too. What’s on your mind?” Mom didn’t miss much.
“First of all, I’m pretty proud of you. I don’t think there’s another guy at school whose mom works out with him.”
“Uh-huh.” She knew there was more.
“I hadn’t really thought about my goals for swimming this year. Go fast. Win. That’s about it. But that doesn’t provide a lot of focus, and I know I’ll do better if I’m focused on something specific.”
“Baby, if there’s anything we know about you, it’s that you need focus. What are you going to zero in on?” Kim asked.
“I’m a senior, but because I was competing in my second year of high school last year, I’m on record as having won four events as a sophomore. So, that’s pretty cool. I didn’t compete in the fifty free. I think I want to try the fifty. Whoever wins that is considered the fastest. I didn’t compete in the fly, and that’s what I thought I was best in, at least before the season started.”
“Two events you didn’t compete in last year. You going to swim the back and breast, too?” Kim asked.
I knew I had a shit-eating grin and probably didn’t need to say anything. “I finished fifth in the back, but it was by far my most improved stroke. I know what I have to do. And breaststroke was Birch’s stroke. Bobby’s and Birch’s strokes, plus the fifty and IM. I think that’s what I want to focus on.”
“So ... swimming,” Mom said, and we all laughed.
“I’m thinking way ahead. If I don’t swim the two hundred free, Shear and Gil will duke it out, most likely.”
“Shear is the kid from Greenville,” Kim said, and I nodded.
“Bobby was second in the IM last year, and Shear will probably be there again. I’d be fresh. For the fifty, Gil will probably improve, and it will be a whole new field. There were a lot of seniors in that race last year, so it’s anyone’s guess. I have to check times for one hundred fly. I’m not positive, but I think last year’s field was pretty strong, so I’ll have good times to shoot for.
“Muscleman and Shear would duke it out for one hundred and five hundred free, if I didn’t do those races. For back and breast, I have a lot of work to do, but I know exactly what that work looks like.”
“You want to finish with the strongest possible record, don’t you?” Mom asked, knowing the answer. “The individual medley is all you really need to win to prove that. But...” she hesitated before finishing. “If you really want to prove it, winning the fifty free would show you’re the fastest. Back, breast, and fly would show you were the most complete, but there’s one more race and you’ve already won it once.”
“Five hundred free,” I said, and she nodded.
“The biggest challenge for me would be the two hundred IM, fifty free, and one hundred fly, all back-to-back. Those three races, so close together, are brutal.”
“And everyone knows it,” she said.
“And everyone knows it. That would be something, though, wouldn’t it?”
“You wanted focus. Whoever wins the one and two hundred free would know they won only because you weren’t competing.”
“I think I’d need to focus on endurance and a quick recovery as much as anything else. Fifty free, two hundred, IM, and one hundred fly, all within about twenty minutes or so.”
“If you want, I could pull the fire alarm after the fifty,” Kim offered. “Buy you some time.”
“That is so sweet, Honey,” Mom said, and we were done lifting.
Kim stayed for dinner. She heard we were having groundnut stew, a recipe from Sierra Leone. Who could blame her? It’s a long drive to find a good Sierra Leonean restaurant. Do they even have those? I knew that Sierra Leone was not one of the more prosperous countries in the world, and with a name like groundnut stew, I wasn’t expecting much.
It was amazing. It’s made with chicken, peanut butter, onions, bell peppers, and a few other things. You end up with a yellowish sauce, and the whole stew gets poured over rice. I had my doubts about Mom’s African recipe adventure, but this was pretty good.
“This is amazing. Okay, I’ve decided, starting with this, that I’m going to start a notebook of recipes. You’re a good cook, Mrs. P, and if I don’t start taking notes, Jack’s not going to be happy,” Kim said.
“Oh, Honey, Jack would be happy with peanut butter sandwiches, as long as you made enough of them.”
“And had chocolate ice cream in the freezer,” I added. “This is really good, though. This should definitely go in your notebook. You don’t have a notebook like that, do you, Mom?”
“No. I have plenty of books,” she said, looking over her shoulder at a shelf full of recipe books. “I’ve dog-eared some pages, and that might be helpful.”
“Maybe I could borrow a book at a time, take them to my parents’ office, and make copies. Have you ever made homemade ice cream?” Kim asked.
“I have,” Dane said. “You have to have patience, but it’s worth it.”
I liked the sound of homemade ice cream. We finished dinner, cleaned up, and left for the center. Mac had been sleeping, and we left him at home. He was a great ice breaker, but we were well past that. Bobby’s car was already there when we pulled into parking. I thought that was a sign they were eager to continue.
Stepping inside, we saw Mel and Bobby already working with their kids. Mrs. Belmont greeted us. We talked for a few moments about trading kids so I could work with the boys and Kim with the girls. Kim and I were academically five or six years ahead of the kids, and tutoring them on any subject wasn’t difficult. She agreed and said there was an issue with Stephie, and she might or might not come.
Four boys brought their homework to my table and we introduced ourselves. I had Adam, Charles, Devon, and Micah to work with. The first three seemed pretty shy. Micah was not.
“That your girlfriend?” he asked, pointing at Kim.
“First, it’s not polite to point. Ask again, but without pointing.”
“Izzat your girlfriend? She’s pretty and she’s got nice tits.”
“Great. We’re going to work on math or whatever else you need help with, but we’re going to work manners a little bit, too.”
“Is she?” He was being a bit of a turd.
“No. She’s not. She is my fiancée.”
“That means they’re going to get married, numbnuts,” Charles said.
“I know what it means, asshole. Since you’re going to get married, do you get to do her?”
“Holy crap, Micah.” He obviously needed a crash course in common manners. I gave him one. Then, I told him a little bit about girls in general. I promised to tell them more the next time I came, if they would focus on what they needed for school. They focused. We worked on outlining papers that all four of them had to do, and with what little time we had left, we worked on math.
Finished for the evening, the four of us met in the parking lot. Mel and Bobby each seemed to have pretty good kids. I shared about Micah’s lack of common courtesy without going into detail. Kim said we would probably not see Stephie again as she was being reunited with her parents.
“That’s great,” I said.
“Maybe. Probably not,” Kim said, and we waited for clarification. “I got the story from Mrs. Belmont. The police showed up at their house because of a domestic disturbance and ended up arresting both parents for criminal domestic violence. DSS took her and her brother. They found a home for him, but she ended up here. That was five months ago. When her parents got out of jail, DSS recommended a parenting assessment and anger management classes for both parents. Somehow, they completed both successfully, and now they get their kids back. Good thing, right?”
“The problem is, this has been an ongoing thing. Stephie said they’ve always been like that. She’d rather stay here where she feels safe.”
“But it’s not her choice,” Mel said.
“No. I think DSS wasn’t tough enough. I don’t know what else they could ask for, but throwing a vacuum cleaner across the room doesn’t sound like a typical family fight.”
“Yikes.”
“Yeah. Mrs. Belmont said one thing they never do is make promises. It’s too easy to break them or have something come up. She did tell her that if it happened again, she would do her best to make a spot for her here. She told her she loved her.”
“At least she’s got that,” Mel said.
“Here’s the kicker. Stephie asked Mrs. Belmont if she could be her daughter and go home with her.”
“Oh, my gosh. How do you answer that?” Mel asked.
“I don’t know, but if you figure something out, I’m sure Mrs. Belmont would love to hear it.”
“It’s a whole different world,” I said, and they all agreed.
It was a thirty-minute drive back to our neighborhood. We started out in silence. I think we’d both discovered it took a little bit of time to process and destress.
“Do you know what’s crazy?” Kim asked.
“Gizmo and Cassidy?”
“No. I would have asked do you know who’s crazy. What’s crazy is how much more I appreciate my parents since we’ve started doing this.”
“No kidding.”
“I’ve listened to stories from Fallon, and now kids at the center. Do you know what they all seem to have in common?”
I couldn’t think of a thing. Each kid and each case was so different. “No idea.”
“Their parents don’t have any kind of support group. Look at ours. Look what happened when everyone found out Angela was moving here. These kids’ parents don’t have anything like that, at least not as far as I can tell.”
“I wouldn’t be surprised if their parents didn’t either. I think it’s kind of a cycle.”
When we got to Kim’s house, we called Fallon. I listened to the two of them talk for a minute before she put it on speakerphone. Kim relayed some of our experiences and asked if her guess was correct.
“It is dead on the money, Kim. Now that you’re all experienced and everything, your goal is to break the cycle. Do your best to give them a higher standard and challenge them to do better. Oh, and while you’re at it, don’t let them hate their parents for failing them.”
We talked for another half hour, and when we were finished, Kim looked at me and said, “You need focus? There you go.”
Tuesday at lunch, Kim and I ended up next to Lori and Peter. Peter Tang. Peter Tang had blonde hair and blue eyes.
“Peter, can I ask you a question. Tang. That sounds a bit like a Chinese name. Sifu Chen is Chinese. Mei is Chinese. Pardon me for being blunt, but you don’t look much like a Tang.” Mei was on the other side of him, and she giggled.
He squinted his eyes, looked at me, and said, “Shénme?” Mei laughed out loud for the first time.
“He asks, ‘what?’ and is obviously Chinese,” Mei said, laughing. She was really tickled by this.
Peter worked his eyebrows again, obviously enjoying this. Cherry got in the act and said, “Lái ba, gěi wǒmen jiǎng jiǎng gùshì ba.” That got Peter’s attention.
“What the hell? Shénme means ‘what’. It’s the only Chinese word I know.” The entire table was in various degrees of amusement or disbelief, except for Gizmo and Cassidy, who acted like this was totally normal.
“Everyone calls me Cherry because Yīngtáo is too hard to say.” Now, Peter was completely lost.
“Okay, fine. My parents moved here from Drammen when I was little. It’s a city outside Oslo, Norway. They moved to Minneapolis, Minnesota. Our family name was Andersen. There were a lot of Andersens in Minneapolis. My dad said there were six pages of Andersens in the phone book, and he was tired of it.”
“There was a Chinese restaurant we loved. I guess there’s not a lot of Chinese restaurants in Norway. Anyway, the name of the restaurant was Tang’s, and one day, my dad said, ‘That’s it. We’re not Andersens anymore. We’re Tangs. And that was it.”
“He just changed your family name? Just like that?” Cherry couldn’t believe it, and neither could Kim or I.
“Just like that. Cherry, does anyone ever forget your name?”
“No. I’m the only Cherry they know.”
“And I’m the only blonde-haired, blue-eyed Tang anyone has ever met. Your girlfriend is pretty cute, by the way,” he said, wiggling his eyebrows. Lori elbowed him, and everyone laughed.
“How do you change your name? How do you even do that?” I asked.
“I don’t know. Ask my dad.”
That started a round of what-should-I-change-my-name-to and it had everyone laughing. Mel suggested my last name should be changed to Flash, and with that, Kim discovered she had a secret talent of snorting soda out of her nose.
That afternoon, I worked with a couple of the guys on improving their starts. Once I’d imparted my wisdom, I joined Coach on the bleachers to talk about my focus for the season. I told him what I’d talked over with Kim and Mom, and he listened without comment.
“You do realize, Jack Flash, that you would receive scholarship offers from at least a dozen colleges if you did that.”
“How do you do that? Did you know about Peter Tang and his weird name?”
“Spies everywhere. Scholarships?”
“I already know where I’m going. MIT isn’t at all appealing. Georgia Tech already said they would accept my application for deferred enrollment in something they called the Fasttrack program. A scholarship would be nice, but I can’t think of a college or university that could offer me one and have it change my mind.”
“So, that hasn’t changed. And your sole reason for doing this is personal satisfaction.”
“Sort of like doing a triathlon,” I said, and he smiled. He knew that feeling all too well.
“Okay then, let’s talk it through. Like a triathlon, you can only control how well you do. Where you end up is largely dependent on who else is in the race. Personal satisfaction is certainly a reason for competing at the level you’re talking about. Let me give you another one. Let’s say you’ve just invented a unique medical device. You don’t want to manufacture it, but you do want to sell the patent to a major medical company. Is that a reasonable scenario?”
“Kind of stretching, but I could see that.”
“Good. Now, let’s imagine you’ve been invited to speak at the Southeast Regional Medical Development Conference.”
“I didn’t know there was such a thing.”
“I just made it up. You’re imagining, remember? Your friend Dr. Legare is going to introduce you. He wants to introduce you with some punch. What’s he going to say? He’s going to say you graduated from Georgia Tech, were president of the little inventors club, or whatever.”
“The little inventors club?” I asked, laughing.
“We’re imagining, remember? Work with me. After providing your academic background, he mentions that you’re a black belt in wing chun, and an eight-time state swimming champion. Would that help get people’s attention?”
“I never thought of that before. Would it make that big of a difference?”
“You never know. You never know what will catch someone’s ear. Ask Dr. Legare what makes his ears stand up. You and Kim have an LLC, right?” I nodded. “What’s your title? What is hers? Founder and President of xyz, might get someone’s attention. Almost any achievement will catch someone’s attention. For college recruiters, they look at academic achievement, extracurricular activities, and accomplishments, and the like. Becoming a member of the local Toastmasters could be a big deal. If you joined the local Toastmasters and only attended twice a year, I could still introduce you as an active member.”
“Franklin called that padding a resume.”
“That’s exactly it. An active member of this or that organization isn’t nearly as impressive as eight-time state champion.”
“When you put it that way, it does sound pretty good. There’s no way to fake it.”
“There’s no way to fake it, and anyone who really cared could check the record books. Same for being top three at the Savannah Half Ironman. Being a member of Mensa, and I have no doubt you could become one, would be a plus. And by the way, Christie says you don’t want to be Valedictorian because you don’t want to give a speech. If, and that’s a very big if, you earned the right, it is a title that would follow you for your entire life. Class Valedictorian.
“You don’t have to go hunting for titles and such. Simply realize there is a value to them, if not to you, directly, then perhaps by a door it could open. If you choose not to accept a title or list something on your resume, that’s your choice, but don’t disregard the potential benefit. Do you have any idea how many doors are opened for people who can claim they graduated from The Citadel?”
“I never thought of any of that.”
“That’s because you are without guile, and that’s probably a good thing, to be honest. You think that if you work hard and keep your nose clean that success will follow you. To some degree, that’s true. But some of the things I’ve mentioned today can open doors for you. That’s all they’ll do. Once you’re in the room, you still have to show you belong there. I bet you didn’t know that simply being tall gives you an advantage. It’s true. In your case, that’s probably offset by having tiny little flippers. Get wet. You’re wasting daylight.”
“Thanks, Coach.”
After a five hundred free for warm-up, I did another five hundred of butterfly, using my tiny little flippers to really reach. The clock still wasn’t out, so it was all about technique. Nothing needed more work than my breaststroke. I worked on that until we finished for the day.
“More snap,” Coach said on the way to the locker room. Got it. More snap.
On the way to Kim’s house, she asked, “Does volunteering at the center make you want to have kids more or less than you did before?”
“Dang. What a question. I don’t know. I kind of feel like I already have some. Not Micah, though,” I laughed. “He’s someone else’s, that’s for sure. What a handful.”
“You haven’t thought about it, have you? Not that way.”
“What did Michael and Fallon tell us? All of these kids have been abused or neglected, and every one of them suffers emotionally and psychologically because of it. When we have kids, that won’t be the case, right?”
“No. It’s something to think about, though.”
Kim was skipping lifting since she had a paper due for psychology and hadn’t started on it. Both of us liked to stay ahead on our work and hated to get behind. The funny thing was, both of us did really well when we were under pressure. It simply wasn’t a strength either of us liked to take advantage of.
I got home to an empty house. There was a note on the bench telling me Mom was at the Newsome house, working on wedding decorations. Leftovers were in the fridge. Lifting by myself, I was able to complete a good pull workout in record time. I knocked out a short paper for drama class and got ready for kung fu.
I picked up Franklin, and we made the short drive to the school. Before we started, I told them about Peter Tang and how he got his name. I had seen Sifu Chen chuckle before, but this really got him. He laughed. Boy, did he laugh. Then he told us a story.
“Bruce Lee told this story. A Chinese man was going through immigration at Ellis Island in New York. In front of him was an Irishman. The immigration official asked his name. Rory O’Brian, the Irishman said, and the immigration official marked it down. When the Chinese man stepped up, he was asked the same question. ‘Sam Ting’ the man said. The immigration official wrote it down and from that day on, he was known as Rory O’Brian.”
Franklin laughed, and I didn’t. What? Franklin looked at me. “Sam Ting. Same thing. Rory O’Brian. Get it?”
“Holy crap. Did that really happen?”
“No, no. Bruce Lee joke.” Ah. A little slow on the uptake.
“Tonight, we’re going to work on closing the distance from stance changes. Timex taught about different ranges, and we don’t normally think like that, but he’s right. This is not a typical concept for boxers to consider. They don’t have to worry about kicks, knees, or elbows. Another thing boxers rarely have to consider is a stance change by their opponent. Very unusual to see a right-handed boxer switch to lead with his right. We switch all the time. But they circle. We don’t do that as much. Tonight, we’ll combine circling, stance changes, and closing the distance.”
We found out that a circling lead change provided a great set-up for a lead leg roundhouse kick or a lead jab. Trying to use the circling stance change to set up for a knee or elbow strike was a recipe for disaster. We had a great time mixing what Timex had taught with concepts boxers just don’t use. It was a lot of fun.
On the drive back to Franklin’s house, I asked, “What else does Timex know that we don’t know about?”
“Ask him. He seems to be full of surprises. It is, uh, unusual to think that a wiry old black man would be teaching a bunch of wannabe ninjas.”
“Wannabe? Huh. Speak for yourself, grasshopper.”
After I dropped Franklin off, I tried to remember where the Newsomes lived, but I couldn’t do it. Mom still wasn’t home, and Dane was working on something in the library. I heated up the last of the groundnut stew for a late-night snack. I tried to think if there were any other dishes made with peanuts. Mole. Chicken mole was made with peanuts, and quite a few Thai dishes had them. They all had two things in common: peanuts, and they were tasty.
The next morning, I stepped out of the car to wait for Kim. She stepped out of the house wearing a white polo shirt with a logo on the pocket that I didn’t recognize, pink shorts, and matching shoes. The white shirt made her tanned arms look good, and her legs didn’t need any help. They were super toned, tanned, and looked fantastic. Her hair was gently waved, and she wore the red ‘cheerleader’ lipstick I liked. It was impossible not to enjoy watching her walk toward me.
She stopped halfway. “What?”
“You look good, Baby. I just thought I’d enjoy that a little.” She smiled.
“How good do I look?”
“Good enough to eat.”
“Ooh, you say the nicest things.” She tossed her book in the backseat and slid in.
I popped a cassette out of the player before we started. She grabbed it from me, read the label, and laughed. “You’re such a goof. Why do you like the Go-Go’s?” Who doesn’t like the Go-Go’s?
“My lips are sealed,” I sang, or at least approximated singing. She shook her head, put it back in, and the Go-Go’s Vacation came on. We sang along.
“Can’t seem to get my mind off of you, back here at home, there’s nothin’ to do, now that I’m away, I wish I’d stayed, tomorrow’s a day of mine that you won’t be in,” and the closer we got to school, the louder we got. Our lips weren’t sealed after all. We walked to class with huge smiles. See? The Go-Go’s are great.
At lunch that day, a couple of guys from the football team came over to our table. Our table. It started out as the table the cheerleaders sat at, but we’d grown to include Mei and Cherry, and a couple of boyfriends. It was still our table.
“What’s up, guys?” Cherry asked.
“We kind of wanted to talk to Aquaman.” Oh-oh.
“Sure. Is it private?” They didn’t really answer, but it seemed like it was. I followed them outside. As we were walking, two other guys joined in. By the time we’d cleared the building, there were seven football players and Jay had joined the group.
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