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A wannabe warrior proves himself.

But believe me, Ross." She reached over to squeeze my hand in hers. "You are my grandson. And, I want to make all of this up to you. My son was a fool. But that doesn't mean I am."

My mom stood and poured herself a cup of coffee.

"Ross," mom said. "Your grandmother wants you to live with her in Palm Springs. She's got a nice house there. Your grandfather was very successful. She wants to make up for things. For you to get to know her and for her to try to make things better for us."

I looked at Barbara.

"Yes, I do," Barbara said earnestly. "I've bought your mom a new home in Manhattan Beach. And I want you to have what you haven't been able to have. I want you to be part of the family."

I heard my mom starting to tear up.

"Oh, Ross," my grandmother continued, grabbing both my hands in hers. "I know I can't make up for the things my Clint did. I know that. But I can help you. I want to help you. Please. Let me."

I felt confusion, anger, fear. I didn't know what I wanted or thought. So, I stood up quickly, jerked my hands away from her, and stormed down the hall, banging my door hard behind me. I turned on my stereo and dropped onto my bed. What the fuck? That was the extent of my self-reflection.

I fell asleep. When I woke up, the sun had set. I smelled dinner cooking in the kitchen. My stomach rumbled with hunger. In the kitchen, mom was sitting at the table, drawing circles on the tablecloth with her finger. She stood and we hugged. I sat down and she served up dinner. When we were done eating, she sighed.

"Please, Ross," she said. "I haven't been able to do things for you. It's made me burn with guilt. Not being able to give you what you deserve. But now, you can enjoy what you should have enjoyed your whole life. Please. Let's try."

I nodded and she smiled.

A week later, I was putting my clothes into a huge cedar dresser in a huge bedroom in a huge house perched on the edge of the desert in Palm Springs. As I pushed a dresser drawer shut, I turned to see Barbara watching me, leaning against the door frame.

"Ross," she whispered, tears in her eyes. "I am so happy you're here. So happy."

She opened her arms and I moved into her embrace. Her arms squeezed my neck and her body - - fleshy and curvy - - pressed itself hard against me. I twisted my hips sideways, hoping to hide the erection growing in my shorts.

August 17, 2002

It was like living in one of those Aaron Spelling shows: the big house; the nice cars; a maid and a cook; gardeners; somebody to take care of everything - - almost. Gramps had started out as a car salesman and then had made it big, really big, in the postwar, L.A. real estate boom. He'd met grandma in a fancy bar on the West Side - - she was an aspiring starlet moonlighting as a cocktail waitress. Dad was born. And then my Auntie Chloe - - who I'd never met. Grandpa moved on to real estate in Palm Springs. Dad moved on to alcohol. Chloe moved on to Seattle. Now it was just me and grandma and a basketball team of servants in the big house next to the desert.

For weeks, I just sucked it all in. Enjoying the food, the entertainment, the cars, the lazy, idling way of life. Up at 11, a swim, a spin in the Mercedes, a nap, a movie on the plasma, some dinner, some drinks on the patio, playing with some toys. Grandma enjoyed watching me enjoy myself. Really, she seemed especially happy - - always smiling, complimenting me, asking me if I needed anything.

To be honest, the house was so big and she seemed so busy, I hardly saw her. When I did, we had a pleasant time. We never talked very deeply or did much together. And so after three weeks, I started getting bored.

That's when the trouble started.

I'm not a big doper but one night I decided to check out some local nightlife.

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