Chapter Four - Independence

A/N - Yes, more "setting the stage"...hope its not too boring. No violence or anything icky this time though. Is that a pro or a con? There is action ahead though! It's mostly written and will be coming soon.

Disclaimer: Sadly, Danny and Rusty belong to others.

Early on, Rusty took Danny to the diner to meet his mom. This was an easy, but essential step in their plan for summertime autonomy. Rusty was still young enough that his numerous friends and relations would raise holy hell if they knew he was running around the Jersey Shore unsupervised. So they had to lay the groundwork for Rusty's mom to claim that he was with somebody responsible. And frankly after Marco, the bar was really not that high.

Given (a) the way Danny carried himself; (b) the way he spoke, sooooo charmingly to Margie; and (c) that while Rusty's mom had passed on her beauty to her only son, his brains clearly came from a different set of genes, it was easy to get her approval. She eagerly saw Danny as an older teenager...someone responsible who would keep an eye on Rusty now that Marco was slogging through the mud, battling hummingbird sized mosquitoes and carrying a zillion pound pack at Parris Island.

At first Danny was reluctant to fool Margie. But Rusty pointed out that they weren't going to tell her a lie. They were just going to let her draw her own conclusion. And if Rusty had dropped hints about the sophisticated teenager staying with Cherie Ocean (who herself was practically responsibility incarnate) the one who had been so nice to him at the ball field, and how he would probably be a movie star some day...

It didn't take much. Danny's natural charisma had won over more suspicious women than Margie Borello.

Rusty just rolled his eyes and ate his way steadily through a double cheeseburger, tater tots and chocolate milk shake while Danny charmed his mom.

"Oooooh," Margie cooed approvingly, when Danny ordered the French Dip, "How sophisticated." Rusty cringed.

"The last time I was in New York, I saw Goldie Hawn on Park Avenue and her hair way cut just like yours. But I think yours looks more natural," Danny flattered.

Margie blushed prettily and looked very pleased. Rusty sighed and sucked on his milkshake.

He was very fond of his mom, but he often thought at at nearly 11 years old, he was the more grown up. He let his mind skip through memories of Margie. She'd been a very young mother, pregnant at 15 and giving birth at 16. When he was very small, she would treat him more like a baby doll than a real child. She delighted in his blond curls and big blue eyes. Luckily, for both of them, Rusty was a happy baby and contented child. He rarely cried (only when hungry) and kept himself entertained when she had guests.

"Oh, it's so kind of you to let Rusty show me around town." Danny smiled earnestly. Rusty played along, eyes wide, bobbing his head in agreement.

As he got older, she would occasionally lose her temper and shake him or slap him, especially when a guy wouldn't call for a second date once he learned about Rusty. But, afterwards, she would cry and pet him and feed him ice cream and say how sorry she was. And mostly she was pretty and funny. He wants her to be happy. And that means letting her think she's being a proper mommy and not giving the aunts a reason to criticize her, and not getting in the way of her social life. With Margie, out of sight was out of mind. The doll was safe on the shelf and she was off playing other games.

"Bye-bye Danny! Rusty is sooooo lucky you saw him in the neighborhood and picked him to be your friend."

Danny looked sheepish, but Rusty just flashed him a grin. He agreed wholeheartedly with his mother. He was very lucky.

The aunts and uncles were easy too. Well, the uncles were really easy. As long as the aunts weren't yapping at them to Do Something About Rusty, they were willing to let him be. They liked Danny just fine too. Kid didn't know his way around a carburetor, but held his own at darts and could bluff his way through a hand of 5 card draw like a pro. Kid needed to learn when to fold though.

The aunts were appeased with weekly appearances at supper, or a bbq, or a luncheon following the newest baby's christening. They could see for themselves that Rusty was alive, being fed and still had 10 fingers and 10 toes. Danny suffered through their questions and cheek pats with his usual dignity and secretly collected embarrassing stories involving a really young Rusty, a cousin named Darla and a baby's diaper.

Easy.

The only one left was Cherie. And they had no plan.

"What about..."

"No the thing..."

"Oh right ..."

"We could ..."

"No, just no."

While there was absolutely no indication that Danny's aunt was at all interested in what her nephew was doing, it was absolutely clear that she believed that she had a duty to shelter and provide for her brothers son. A home, food, clothing and an education. This was her duty. And Cherie Ocean had never once in her 59 years shirked her duty.

Danny was pretty certain that sense of duty did not include her nephew to be romping all over the Jersey Shore with one Rusty Ryan.

The weekdays weren't an issue. Cherie kept to her schedule, leaving well before Danny woke up in the morning. She would return around 7 in the evening and was in bed by 10. A note left on the kitchen table telling her he was at the boardwalk with friends satisfied her that he was alive and well. Thus, Danny had pretty much complete discretion about how he spent those days. He made sure the house was clean, that he kept to the Ocean high standards of personal grooming, and would leave his novels from the Dickinson summer reading syllabus in conspicuous spots around the house.

He never once contemplated using the Emergency Contact Number. Happily, the $20 was not in the Emergency Only category. Every day a new, crisp bill was tucked under his juice glass. Danny wanted to spend the money on lunch and movies. But Rusty was practical. "Save it. Hide it. We may need it someday." He grinned, "Plus, you need to practice your pulls." Danny wrestled him to the ground, both laughing.

But they were no closer to developing a Plan for Cherie.

They were free to come and go and spend unlimited time together Monday through Friday; weekends were another matter entirely. Duty expressed itself in trips to various cultural venues around the mid Atlantic. After New York and London, the Ocean Grove Arts Center was decidedly boring. (Sophistication and duty be damned! He was still a nearly -13 year old boy and wanted to be on the beach, with Rusty, running a pool on when Dominica Fretteri would let Sonny Diaz unbutton her blouse ).

Danny found the weekend trips were excruciating. He was uncomfortable with his aunt. They barely exchanged a dozen sentences the whole weekend. The snooty people (of quality) either ignored him, or asked intrusive questions about his dad. But mainly, he missed Rusty.

To make matters worse, Rusty was intensely curious about these jaunts. He demanded details about every dusty county museum, frumpy tea room, cocktail party and poorly produced theatrical event. He practically swooned when Danny showed him the detested jacket his aunt selected for this weeks open air musical production of My Fair Lady. (Danny didn't mind the dressing up, he was just miffed that he hadn't been consulted in the selection.)

They were in Danny's room, with the radio playing big band music in the background. Rusty was reverently stroking the linen and making Danny PROMISE to bring him a program, and to remember what everybody was wearing, and whether the canapés included anything like those little puff pastries Danny had smuggled home to him last week, and... when the sound of a stern "ahem!" shut him up mid sentence.

Danny looked up in alarm.

It was Cherie. Home early. No, they'd lost track of the time. They'd never discussed it, but both boys intuitively knew that Cherie would disapprove of Rusty hanging about. He was usually long gone by 7, but they'd gotten caught up in the music and knowing they wouldn't see each other for days. And now...

Looming in the doorway like a bird of prey or someone out of a Du Maurier novel, was Danny's aunt. Danny immediately made his face as emotionless, as neutral as possible. Rusty looked like he'd been caught with his hands in someone else's pocket. He'd never looked younger and Danny had never seen him look afraid. Danny broke a little bit inside seeing his brilliant, beautiful friend look so unsure of himself. He hadn't done anything wrong. There was nothing shameful about Rusty.

"Robert Charles Ryan."

"Yes, ma'm," Rusty managed not to squeak, but his bottom lip quivered.

"You are Margaret's child, yes? Florence Lucas was one of your teachers last year?"

"Yes, ma'm." He stuck to Marco's advice about how to respond when questioned by authority figures. Just stick to one word answers. Say sir or ma'm. Under no circumstances volunteer additional information.

She looked at him up and down. Pausing to take in his bare feet, last years shorts (that were just ever so slightly too short and fell squarely on the wrong side of respectable) and the threadbare (but vividly patterned) T-shirt, she frowned.

Rusty, who rarely cared about what other people thought of him, did his best not to cringe under this woman's gaze. Be brave...be brave, he told himself. He survived the cold men, he could face Cherie Ocean. He lifted his chin and looked her in the eye...and gasped. The scowl of disapproval he expected to see had been replaced with an expression of exasperated fondness.

Danny had kept his eyes on Rusty and saw the surprise flit across his face. He looked questioningly at his aunt. She met his eye and with a gesture that reminded him of his dad, she quirked her eyebrow at him. She imperiously waved them into the kitchen.

"Robert, please use the telephone on the counter and call your mother."

Danny still didn't know what was happening. He'd rarely been so off balance. Surely if she wanted Rus out of her house, she'd just tell him to go. Why would she humiliate him by calling his mother. He tried to catch Rusty's eye to apologize and reassure.

Rusty was already dialing, however, his back to Danny. He called the diner. "Hello, Ginger. It's Rusty. I'm fine, thanks, but can I please speak with my mom? Thanks." He forced himself not to twist the phone cord. Forced himself not to let his nerves show. Forced himself to keep the tremble out of his voice.

"Hi Mom, it's me...no, Danny is ok. Yes, I'm ok." Danny saw Cherie take note of that. A frown back on her face.

"Mom, I'm at Danny's house and Ms. Ocean would like to have a word with you. No, no, Mom. I don't know. Here she is." Cherie took the phone.

"Margaret," she barked into the phone, " I would like for Robert to accompany Daniel and myself out of town this weekend. He has no family obligations that would interfere with my plans? No. Excellent. I will write down our itinerary and provide you with the details. Questions? No, don't be ridiculous, Robert is our guest. Very well. Good day, Margaret."

She carefully placed the phone in the cradle and turned to face the boys. She kept her expression stern, but it took some effort. The urchins looked like they were going to be marched to the workhouse. She'd seen that look on her brother's face more than once. How she missed him. She cleared her throat. If possible, Danny and Rusty stood up straighter.

"Robert, I have had good reports of your academic abilities from Mrs. Lucas. She does not give idle compliments and is not easily impressed. I also make it my business to follow the news of the neighborhood. Aside from that unfortunate incident with the fire hydrant, you have never caused trouble. You also seem to be a fitting companion to Daniel and we would be pleased to have your company on our weekend excursions. While you are, of course free to decline..."

"No, no" Rusty interrupted, "I want to come. Thank you. Thank you Ms. Ocean. " He paused, glanced at the kitchen clock and looked upset. His lower lip did actually quiver and he bit it firmly. Danny's heart broke. He knew what his best friend was thinking. Even if he spent the rest of the evening working the crowds, there was no way he could pickpocket enough in time to have the right things for the trip. And Danny was just too much taller and broader to loan Rusty his things. Even the cache of saved spending money wouldn't be enough and anyways, Rusty wouldn't think about asking. And there no chance that his mother would...

"Is there a problem, Robert?" Cherie was frowning fiercely at Rusty. Danny was suddenly angry. How could she be so cruel? Rusty, immediately caught his mood and his intentions, and smoothly cut Danny off before he could go on a tirade.

"Ms. Ocean, ma'm, I am really so happy and grateful to be asked to accompany you and Danny. I've never done anything fancy, unless you count being a ring bearer at my Aunt Suzette's wedding in Jersey City ( the look on Cheries face said she most certainly did NOT) and that was 2 years ago, and I doubt the suit still fits..." He started to run out of steam, embarrassment warring with excitement. He was pretty sure this was going to be snatched away because he wasn't good enough, but unwilling to ask for anything more. "So, so, I'm sorry but I can't accept." He ran out of breath and sighed unhappily.

Danny grabbed his hand and squeezed it hard. He wasn't sure if he did it to comfort Rusty or himself. Cherie saw it and harrumphed.

"Robert, Daniel...boys. Please have a seat." It wasn't really a request. They sat. Exchanged bewildered glances. They couldn't read her tone of voice. She sounded... stern but tired.

She turned away, reaching for glasses, ice and a pitcher of lemonade.

She poured each of them a glass and then sat down at the table. She looked at Rusty, stood up again and returned with a plate of store bought sugar cookies. She slid them across the table.

"Boys," she began again,"I am very much aware of my reputation in this neighborhood. It was fairly earned. However, no matter how high my expectations are for you, Daniel, and now for you, Robert," Rusty gaped at her a little bit, "I do not believe that embarrassing a young person is an effective means of education. Daniel, I have obviously failed in my duty to you, and your father, if you think I would take pleasure in humiliating your friend. " She looked at Rusty again with almost fond expression.

"Robert, if you would like to come with us this weekend, and it is of course YOUR choice, I will ensure that you are properly attired."

Rusty stared at her, his desire to shout with the unexpected joy of it all warring with his pride. He'd never been one for handouts. He might have to pick pockets or count cards to afford his lunch, but he'd never begged for anything. But he'd never been offered anything like this before, either. To see these amazing this. To be with Danny. Oh he wanted to say yes with all his heart. But...

She seemed to sense his dilemma. "I see you are a proud young man. Robert. Some call this a sin, which is nonsense. Others say excessive pride is a flaw in a young person, but I think it shows strength of character. A sense of honor. Nonetheless, there is character, and there is obstinacy.

If you feel that your honor requires that you somehow 'repay me' (and her voice was practically dripping with distaste from being forced to utter the phrase) rest assured we will work out a mutually acceptable arrangement. You are clever with machines, are you not? However, time is of the essence, and we must see to your wardrobe immediately. So drink your lemonade, wash your faces and meet me in the port cochere in 10 minutes."

And with that, Cherie Ocean sailed out of the room like an empress.

Danny and Rusty stared at each other.

"Did that...?"

"Just happen?"

"Yeah, I think..."

"Me too."

A moment of silence passed. Then grinned at each other.

"We'd better..."

"Oh yeah, I don't want to see what happens if we make her wait."

The shopping trip to the Young Men's department at Bambergers department store was an experience neither Danny, nor Rusty would ever forget.

Rusty was enthralled by the selection, the lights, the mirrored dressing rooms. Despite the need to shop quickly, before the store closed, he wouldn't make a single decision until he'd walked around the entire section, touching all the fabrics, looking at every option. He was giddy with excitement. He couldn't quite believe this was happening. No hand me downs, thrift stores this time.

Danny was enthralled watching Rusty. Danny didn't mind shopping. He like picking out fine woolen overcoats in the winter, silk scarves, crisp cotton and soft flannel. Danny took care to make sure his overall image was correct, and he was secretly (ha, Rusty's voice snorted in his head, some secret) happy with his classic good looks, but the details didn't interest him. He didn't care if his undershirt was woven from Egyptian cotton or designed his Italian leather shoes.

Rusty not only cared, he really really wanted to understand the pros and cons of each option. He discussed quality and stitching with Cherie in order to learn. He wanted to understand and not rely on somebody else to make his choices for him. Next time, he would choose for himself.

Danny, watched the proceedings from a comfy chair by the changing rooms. He had just noted a blind spot in the security camera's range of motion and observed that the senior clerk was skimming from the till, when he saw his friend circle back to a rack of shirts that were NOT on Cherie's List of Suitable Weekend Attire for Young Persons. This was the third time Rusty had returned to this display. Huh. He watched Rusty.

They were a selection of the ugliest shirts Danny had ever seen. Magenta and turquoise swirled together. Shiny copper fabric. A shade of lavender Danny doubted existed anywhere in nature. And Rusty wanted them. He was looking at these shirts the way he eyed caramel sundaes, peach pie, and Danny himself. He rubbed the satin against his cheek. And stroked the sleeves. Danny knew there was no way Cherie would ever go for these shirts. She was kind about it though. She said Rusty should wait before choosing something this festive until he visited Neiman Marcus in Philadelphia next month. Rusty was too excited about his purchases to argue, but he did cast a wistful glance back at the rack before allowing Cherie to lead him to the luggage department.

Danny smiled and strolled over to the shirts. And if that rack happened to be in the cameras blind spot...well. Somebody's birthday was coming up...

The night before they left, Rusty slept over at Danny's for the first time.

"Early start, crack of dawn," Cherie announced. "Best if you stay here, Robert. " She showed them how the trundle on Danny's bed worked and got them fresh linens and produced toiletries and pajamas that reminded Rusty of the PJs his 92 year old Pops wore after he had his hip replaced. They had a collar and a breast pocket and a pattern of anchors and whales and smelled like sunshine. Rusty loved them.

Of course, Rusty was too excited to sleep that night. He tried to be still, so as to avoid disturbing Danny, but his mind was spinning with a thousand divergent happy thoughts.

After a while, he couldn't bear staying still. Rusty slipped out of bed. He padded silently outside, his bare feet making no noise on the smooth hardwood floors. From the back porch, he could hear the waves crashing against the shore. It was a clear night and despite some light pollution from the casinos a few miles away, he could see thousands of stars whirling in the heavens. He took a deep breath and willed himself to relax.

He wasn't sure how long he sat there, trying to empty his mind, but eventually, the screen door opened softly. It was Danny, dark hair sticking in every direction. He looked sleepy and confused. He was wearing blue pinstriped pajamas. They looked very soft, like they'd been worn and washed lots of times. Rusty, unselfconsciously reached out and touched the sleeve. Yep, so soft.

"Hey. There you are. I woke up and you were gone." Danny sounded concerned and fond and so sleepy.

"Can't sleep. It's all...just so...and sometimes if I look at the stars..."

"S'ok, Rus."

Danny sat down on the swing next to Rusty. The younger boy scooted over and laid his head on Danny's shoulder. Danny felt his heart just about burst. He put his arm around Rusty's thin shoulders and kissed his hair. He felt Rusty against snuggle against him.

Danny had a lovely voice. Even as an adolescent he was pleasant to listen to. No cracking or squeaking. No sudden changes in timbre. And as he spoke quietly that summer night, the sound of Danny talking soothed Rusty better than a lullaby. As he focused on Danny, his mind started to calm. As his brain settled, the tension slowly left him and he could relax.

"Once, a few years ago," Danny was saying, " my dad took me to the Hamptons for a few days." Rusty listened silently. Danny rarely shared personal stories from his past. "It was my first summer with him after the divorce. He'd borrowed this little yacht from his business partner and he taught me how to sail. One night we were anchored just off shore and it was too hot to sleep below, even out on the water, so we were on the deck. And the sky was just full of stars. Just like tonight. He showed me all the constellations and taught me to tell Mars from Anatares. He told me the myths and legends. He told me that when he had been my age, he dreamed of running off to sea with just the North Star as his guide."

Danny sighed and was quiet for a while.

Rusty held his breath. Mesmerized by Danny's voice. Utterly still, not wanting to spoil the moment.

Danny lifted the arm that wasn't wrapped around Rusty. He pointed, "That really bright star, the one above that tallest pine tree, that is Pollux. It's the brightest star in the constellation Gemini. In Greek mythology..." And he talked softly, until Rusty's eyes drooped. Danny eased them off the swing and back to bed, where they slept soundly until dawn.

The weekend trip was an unqualified success. When Danny joked and called it Rusty's debut, Rusty punched him in the shoulder, but was secretly delighted at the idea.

Rusty was caught up in the newness of a world heretofore unknown to him. There was enough novelty to keep even his brain content. And his unselfconscious pleasure at the experience had even stiff old Cherie smiling indulgently on occasion. Her sense of duty was doubly satisfied. She was noblesse oblige personified, educating young Robert, providing opportunities that silly twit of a mother would never even think to give him.

Robert was intelligent, polite and once he was dressed in proper clothing, he cut a properly respectful and handsome little figure. She even admitted, just to herself, mind you, that she liked the little imp. He delighted in every new experience, although the look on his faced when Danny explained foie gras ... priceless. It helped that his golden good looks absolutely in no way reminded her of her brother.

Even more satisfactory, was the positive effect Robert had on her nephew. She wasn't kidding herself. She knew she wasn't capable of helping the boy come to terms with the loss of his father. She had never been demonstrative and had no patience for emotional displays. She knew it wasn't healthy for the boy to keep it all inside, but she knew she wouldn't be the one he'd share with.

So she was quite pleased to observe that in Robert's company, Daniel was finally losing his air of stoic resignation. He was relaxed and even seemed happy. Oh he was still frightfully formal and polite with her, but Cherie herself utilized that defense mechanism, and the world could use more in the way of formality.

Being satisfied that the two friends would take care of each other, she allowed herself to retreat behind her wall of carefully constructed indifference and silence and duty. She was comfortable there. She was safe behind that wall. And if she would occasionally emerge to check in on the progress of the boys, she told herself it was just her duty.

As for Danny, having Rusty along on the weekend jaunts more than made them bearable, even made them enjoyable. Rusty, with his zeal for life, made the trips fun. He saw each new experience through fresh eyes. Rusty had no preconceptions about the places, or the people and his irreverent sense of humor and wickedly sharp observations often had Danny shaking with laughter.

For example, Rusty didn't expect Cecelia Davidson's garden party to be dead dull, so it wasn't. They played games, challenging each other to spot who wore the fake Rolex, which society matron was drinking gin instead of lemonade, who the mean girls were and how to avoid them.

When Dash Davidson, arrogant son of their hostess, made one of the caterers cry, Danny and Rusty exchanged a look and acted swiftly. By the end of the evening, Dash found himself staggering out of the pool cabana wearing heart covered boxer shorts, clutching a rubber chicken and trying in vain to explain to his mother why he tried to smoke the garnish from the punch bowl.

Rusty visited every local museum, that Cherie pointed him towards. He was fascinated with it all, from the dubious Native American pottery, to salvaged treasures from wrecked 19th century trading ships, and even the mediocre water colors donated to the local museums by the daughters of industrialists. He told Danny it was good to know the trash from the treasure.

And Danny, who had a deeply generous spirit, was happy to just experience these things with Rusty. If these provincial entertainments pleased his friend so much, Danny thought, just wait until I can show him Manhattan and Boston and Paris. Wait until he sees the Mona Lisa and a real Warhol, the London Symphony.

So, in the end, they boys didn't need to figure out a plan for Cherie. She had figured out a plan for them. Big picture and details all accounted for.

And so the summer fell into a kind of rhythm. Weekdays, the boys roamed the shore, soaking up sunshine and salt water. Just as Danny exposed Rusty to new pursuits, the younger boy gave Danny a different type of education: how to tell the difference between a mark drunk enough to be easy target versus one drunk to be paranoid and vicious. Which of the dice games were rigged. And who among the old cons gathered along the boardwalk would teach them how to run a Flying Dutchman just for the price a bottle of cheap scotch and the pleasure of a willing audience.

On rainy days, they would go to the movies or to the library. Danny was a voracious reader, and passed the trait on to Rusty. While Rusty gravitated towards nonfiction and informational texts (he once spent an entire Wednesday transfixed with a manual on SCUBA gear) Danny was a romantic at heart. After reading both the local newspaper and the NY Times (required reading at Dickinson and a long ingrained habit) he would settle down with tales of Captain Kidd and Blackbeard, of sunken treasure and gold doubloons; bravery and betrayal; love and loss; treasure maps and secret codes taken to the grave.

And in the evenings, when they were snuggled on the porch swing back at the bungalow (Rusty had pretty much stopped sleeping at his house; checking in as required; but never missed; never looked for) Danny would retell the stories, getting more pleasure from sharing them with his best friend than from reading them the first time.

And when he was an old man, Rusty would think back on his childhood and remember the sound of the waves, the dazzling night sky, and puff of Danny's breath on his neck as he spoke. He remembered it with absolute clarity. And he was happy.