Drawing a deep breath, his facial muscles relaxed and a slim, but evident, smile crossed his lips. "Okay, I'll tell you anything you want to know. You...re a big part of this," he conceded, running his slender fingers that might have belonged to an artist of pianist, through his baby fine blonde hair. For Jim was only sixteen himself, a curse he'd have to live with, he realized, until he turned the magic age of eighteen when he could do anything legally."Can you ride a motorcycle?" he stared Mark. The first question was easy to answer — we definitely wanted to keep this going — but the second was a little trickier. True, Tom lived alone, and could always play host, but finding a good time wouldn’t be easy — except for those weekends when my wife and kids were away, and those wouldn’t be frequent enough. Evenings were impossible, I always went straight home after work, and I couldn’t think of a plausible reason for changing that routine. But it was easy enough, once I thought of it, to. More

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