Sunrise Box Set

Chapter 1-4

He shook my hand. “Nice to meet ya, Dr. Pell. I’ve heard about you. I’m Judd Thomas.”

“Everybody at Sunrise just calls me Whitney. Is this your first time here?”

“No, sir. I was here in grade school and again in middle school on field trips. But I haven’t been here for a year or so.”

I couldn’t tell how tall Judd was because he was sitting, but I guessed about six feet even. He had dirty blond hair cut in a high and tight. He was wearing a button-up shirt that was hanging open. Under it a blue T-shirt strained across his fine pecs. His shoulders were broad. His shirt sleeves were rolled up to reveal tanned forearms sprinkled with hair that was lighter than that on his head. There was a nice crinkle around his hazel eyes as he smiled across the table at me.

“Do you have a school art project of some kind, Judd?”

“Yes, sir. I’m taking an art class because my counselor says it will help me get into college. But I have to tell you, I’m lost. I have to write a term paper on something, and I don’t have a clue. I’m just a dumb jock. That’s why I’m here so early in the semester. I want to get started on it. You know, so I’ll have plenty of time.”

Just then a couple of adults came in to look for something.

“Why don’t you come down to my office?” I suggested. “Maybe I can help you get started, or at least we can brainstorm for topics for your paper.”

“That’d be so great. You sure you’ve got the time?”

I could see he was blushing, for some reason, despite his tan.

“Sure. Let’s go.”

In my office, I asked to see the assignment sheet for the term paper. Then I began to explore possible topics with him. I asked if in his previous trips to Sunrise he’d run across anything that he’d especially liked.

“Well, sir, there was this one book I found in your library one day. I didn’t get a chance to look at it for very long before we had to leave.”

“Do you remember what it was?”

“Not really. It showed all these fantastic statues by some Italian guy. He lived in the Renaissance, I think. The stone he used, I guess it was marble, was real white. I can’t explain why, but I loved looking at them.”

“Were they nudes, Judd?”

He blushed again. “Yes, sir.”

“Could they have been by Bernini?”

“Yeah! That was the name!”

Well, I’m sure we still have that book, which you could check out. And Sunrise has a DVD with most of the works of Bernini, which you could use in our media room any time we’re open.”

“Wow! That would be cool!” He paused. “But I don’t know about taking the book home.”

“Why not?”

“A lot of those statues were of naked guys. If my buddies on the soccer team saw me with a book like that, they’d give me a rough time.”

“Even if they knew it was for a school project?”

“Yeah, I mean, yes, sir. Some of them have made some remarks just because I’m taking art.”

“Is this most of the guys on the team, or just some?”

“Oh, only a couple. And they’re always teasin’ and callin’ guys names.”

“Well, then, maybe you should just tell them you need the art course for college and this book is for a required project. And then let them say what they will.”

He sat up a little straighter, squared his shoulders, and said, “Thanks, Dr. Pell. I think I’ll do that.”

A week later, I saw Judd in the hallway. “Hey. How’s soccer season?”

He beamed at me. “Great! I scored two goals last Friday, and we’ve won both our matches so far.”

“Congratulations! How’s the art course coming?”

His smile vanished. “Not so good. I’m really lost in there. The others all seem to know so much more than me. I feel out of place.”

“Well, hang in there. Have you talked with your teacher?”

“Yeah, but I don’t think she’s much interested in me because I’m a jock, not one of her art students. She said I should just study harder. Or find someone to study with.”

“Look, Judd. Art is supposed to be fun. If you really get stumped, come to me, and I’ll see if I can help. And, you know, most of the art students at Stafford High come here for one thing or another. I am getting to know a lot of them. I’ll keep my eye open for someone who might enjoy being a kind of study partner, or someone who could at least give you a little help.”

“Cool! Thanks, Dr. Pell.”

“Judd, it’s Whitney, please.”

“Oh, yeah. Okay. Thanks, Whitney.”

He gave me a sweet smile and went on his way. I turned to watch him as he walked down the hallway, admiring his broad shoulders, narrow hips, long legs, and beautiful butt.

“Down, boy!”

I turned abruptly. It was Jean, grinning at me. “You’re wanted on the phone. It’s the agent for one of the acts you’re trying to line up for next year. Shall I tell him you’ll call back?”

“No, that’s okay. I’ll take it.”

As we walked back toward our offices, she said, “He’s cute, isn’t he? What’s his name?”

“Judd Thomas. But I’m not used to talking with women about what guys are cute.”

“Relax, boss. No reason why we can’t enjoy the same eye candy. So long as we don’t touch, right?”

In my office I took the newly-accumulated stuff from my inbox. Before I looked at any of it, however, I wondered about Judd’s interest in Bernini, whose sculpture included many sensuous male nudes. Odd thing for a jock to be interested in. Unless…

Chapter 2

Jerome was always around Sunrise. I don’t know how we’d operate without him. He was the go-to person when things didn’t work. He had a part-time assistant to help keep the floors polished and the fingerprints wiped off the glass doors, and all that. But Jerome was the man around the place so far as everyone was concerned.

He was big. About six feet, 225 pounds, all muscle. His skin was lighter than Louis’, more of a café au lait color. At thirty, his hairline had begun to recede, so he kept his head shaved. He wore small gold hoops in both ears. Jean said once he looked like Mr. Clean with a suntan.

At first, though I saw him in one building or the other just about every day, I didn’t have much to do with him directly. He knew what needed to be done, and he or his assistant, LaKeesha, made sure it was done. If I had a special job for him, it was usually relayed through Jean.

When it came time to hang the first new exhibition of the fall, however, I told the chair of the gallery committee that from now on I’d see to that, and she needn’t come in. I think she was a little miffed, but I wasn’t about to let any amateur supervise a hanging as long as I was around. Maybe that wasn’t politic, but some things are just too important to trust to others.

So Jerome and I did the work. Even with the A/C at its constant seventy-five degrees in the main gallery, it got warm as we measured, placed, pounded and hung. Then we had to adjust the lighting. Part way through the process I pulled off my button-up and worked in my white T-shirt and jeans. I wished I’d been wearing shorts.

Jerome had to go up the tall step ladder, adjust all the track lights he could reach until I was satisfied, come down, move the ladder and do it again. He had soaked through the polo shirt he was wearing, so I suggested he could take it off if he wanted to.

“Are you sure, Dr. Pell? What if someone came in?”

“Hey, Jerome, it’s hot work. Besides, no one but Jean is supposed to come in while we’re hanging a show, isn’t that policy?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I just want you to be comfortable. You don’t think I’m coming on to you, do you?”

“No, I reckon not. Besides, if you did, I figure I could take care of myself.” I was relieved when he grinned.

So we finished the job. Before we were through I had my shirt off, too. And, though I had only been concerned with his comfort, I did enjoy watching his muscles ripple as he reached up to re-aim the lights and as he moved the ladder.

When we were finished I asked him to go to lunch with me. He thanked me, said he’d like to, but that he was too sweaty.

“Okay, can you get home, get a shower, change clothes, and meet me at Applebee’s in forty-five minutes?”

“Sure can,” he said, grinning.

“That’s an advantage of living in a little city, I guess.”

I needed to go home and clean up, too.

After my shower I changed into fresh khakis, a blue oxford button-down shirt, and cordovan loafers for the exhibit-opening reception that evening. I threw my blazer in the back of the car. I made it to the restaurant in about fifty minutes.

After Jerome and I had ordered our lunch, I asked him to tell me about himself.

At first he seemed a little hesitant, but once he got started, he opened up, telling me he’d enlisted in the army when he’d graduated from high school and had been sent to the Gulf for a short tour of duty before the troops were brought home. After four years in the service he didn’t re-enlist. He came home and used his GI benefits to go to the local community college for two years. An only child, he lived with his mother, who worked as a receptionist at a local dentist’s office. After getting his associate’s degree, he took the job here, hoping to save the money and go to one of the nearby universities and take a degree in counseling. He said his fondest dream was to manage a youth center.

“Oh, and I sing in the choir at First Methodist downtown.” He took a sip of his tea, grinned at me, and said, “And that’s the Jerome Huggins story.”

We had to hurry to get back to Sunrise because we both had lots to do before the reception that evening. At some point during that busy afternoon, I thought, He still lives with his mother?

* * * *

I’d cut the grass, trimmed a lot of the bushes, done some weeding, and put down new mulch. My muscles were beginning to ache by the time I finished. I’d had a light lunch, so I was starved. Grungy as I was, I drank a big glass of water, then poured myself some cabernet, and nuked an individual pizza. That wouldn’t take long, and I really needed to wash my funky bod.

I had just stepped out of the shower, dried off, and was toweling my hair when the doorbell rang.

I couldn’t imagine who it could be. If it was someone selling something, they were going to get short shrift from me. Unless, I thought, grinning at myself in the bathroom mirror, it was a couple of those cute young Mormons who go door to door.