PART 1

Growing up in the 70's one of my best friends was my cousin Donald. We were both dirt poor and lived in this awful trailer park in a little town called Calwa, California.
Donald lived with his dad, my uncle Beau, and I lived with my mom and my two older sibs. My dad had split on us a couple years earlier.
Most days (when we werent in school) there was nothing to do but walk around and shoot the shit about all the same tired old subjects we always talked about. Music, movies, nudie magazines, girls we liked, teachers we hated, comparing the most recent things we'd swiped from school or the grocery store. And we were forever wishing we had some money.

The summer of '78, I was twelve going on thirteen and Donald had just turned ten. We decided to go into business together. Our first go was walking around collecting aluminum cans and soda bottles for the recycle center. Recycling still wasn't a major thing in the seventies so we didn't have a ton of shopping cart bums competing with us. But we still never made a whole lot. At best we'd end up with a couple Cokes and a burger each from the Lucky Bun, this great little stand that was around back then. We needed something that paid better. So Donald suggested we do yardwork. trouble was, neither of us owned a single piece of equipment.

Undeterred we began walking around and asking. Everyday we'd walk further, and everyday we'd get told "No thank you". It was fucking depressing. But then we met A.J. We saw him standing in the driveway of this big old 2-story house, washing down a snazy red sportscar with the hose. He looked like the actor that played Magnum P.I. - he was tall, somewhat athletic looking and white, with brown curly hair and a thick mustache. He was dressed like he'd just gotten back from playing tennis or maybe he was going somewhere to play. His yard looked great so we weren't even going to ask. Besides it had already been a damned depressing day and we were bummed out.
"Hey fellas!" A.J. called as we walked past. "Why do you both look so gloomy?? Its a gorgeous day."
We explained our situation.
"Gee, that's a bummer," A.J. told us. "Well, you can do my yard."
"Your yard looks great," Donald told him. "Its already been mowed and everything."
A.J. laughed. "That's ok. Mow it again. How much do you charge??"
Truth was, we hadn't really discussed that yet. Our planning had only gone so far as asking people if we could do some yard work for them. We debated a few numbers, with Donald's being way higher than my own. We settled on something in the middle so as not to seem greedy. A.J. frowned and shook his head.
"Figures." Donald grumbled and we started walking away.
"That's slave wages," A.J. said and we stopped. "I'll give you twice that."
"We don't have any equipment." I said.
"I noticed." A.J. grinned. "I have a whole shed full. C'mon guys, follow me around back."
He didn't have to ask us twice. So we spent an hour mowing an already professionally manicured lawn and pulling imaginary weeds from the flower beds that framed the house on three sides. When we were done A.J. paid us not double, but triple what we'd asked. That night we both went home feeling like conquering heroes. A.J. had made us promise to come back the next weekend.

Part 2

A.J. never invited us into his house until the third or fourth weekend we'd worked for him. It was near summer and temps were rising fast, so the work was hot and sweaty. He'd stand on his back steps and watch us while we worked, hands stuffed in his shorts pockets and a smile on his face. "You boys ought to take your shirts off," he'd call to us. "Its hot out here." So we would, slinging them over the clothes line and he'd keep staring and smiling. Once he snapped a few Polaroids and Donald glanced at me, a grin on his face. He mouthed the word "Homo" and we both cracked up, but kept working. As long as he was paying us an insane amount for nearly no work, he could snap as many pictures as he wanted.

Finally one day A.J. (who told us his actual name was the letters A and J, that they stood for nothing) told us to come inside. "Its horrible out there guys, come on in and cool off. I've got a swamp cooler (some call them evaporative coolers) and a fridge full of cold beer. You guys want one??"
He may as well have asked us if we wanted an extra hundred as a tip. One mention of cold beer and we shot inside.
That house was unlike any place I'd seen before. Donald and I must have looked like the kids on Willy Wonka when they first saw the Chocolate Room. Wide eyes and open mouths.
A.J. had an actual Coke vending machine in his kitchen, and a full sized Rock-Ola juke in the parlor alongside a pool table. He had three pinball machines and two cabinet-style arcade games, Pong and Space Invaders in another room. He had Cable TV. I didn't know anyone that had Cable TV. He also had a clunky box called a Betamax and shelves full of black cassettes I at first mistook for 8-track tapes.
He gave Donald and me a couple bottles of Coors and asked if we were hungry. He opened the fridge and showed us a virtual deli. Meats and cheeses of every type. Our stomachs began growling and he laughed and said he took that as a yes.
So, now holding a beer in one hand and massive Dagwood sandwiches in the other we went to the pool room and started playing rock tunes on the juke while we ate, drank and played nineball. After a few hours, A.J. paid us and reminded us - as usual - to come back the next weekend.

The next weekend he didn't need any work done, but said he'd pay us anyway. He invited us in for more beer and more food. We played pool again, while Gerry Rafferty, Kansas and Bob Seger boomed out of the Rock-Ola. After a while, A.J. told us to come to the video room he wanted to show us a tape he thought we'd get a kick out of. We said ok and followed him into the room with the big console tv, the Betamax and all those black tapes. There was a big recliner chair and a small couch. We took the couch. Donald was dragging on a Menthol Kool from a pack that A.J. had bought for him.
A.J. popped a tape in and sat back in his chair, a wolfish grin on his face as his eyes darted back and forth between the TV screen and our faces. What we saw was a couple of kids about our age, naked on a bed screwing. Donald's smoke nearly dropped from his mouth. We sat in silence watching those two kids fuck, then the boy pulled his dick out and shot a wad of junk on the girls belly.
"Yuck," Donald frowned. "What the fuck just came out of his thing??"
That was the first time I realized Donald hadn't hit puberty yet. He had no idea what cum was. A.J. laughed and told him what it was. Donald tried to play it off like he'd known the whole time. Another segment started showing a woman about my mom's age sucking the same boy's dick. The bedroom looked different. While she sucked him off, you could see bright polaroid camera flashes popping off from time to time and that mechanical whirrr sound of the developing picture sliding out. The boy was grinning and pumping his hips so that he was fucking the chick's mouth. After a few minutes, she turned to face the slightly shaky cam and opened her mouth showing all the cum inside. We saw about five more of these three to five minute segments, each one showing an adult with some kid, or two kids together. The last showed two girls kissing and then the one squatted down and began licking the other ones pussy, while the first stood with one leg on the ground and the other hiked up on a short stool. By the time it was done I had a hardon. Donald just had this weird look in his eye, like he was thinking.

Part 3

It was pretty weird walking home that day.
"What did you think of that movie??" Donald asked.
I shrugged.
"I think he's one of those guys they talk about on those Stay Safe posters in the school library," Donald said.
"I don't know," I frowned. "He seems ok. I mean he's never tried any queer stuff with us. Just took a few pictures."
"I don't mean queer stuff only," Donald said. "But thats part of it. What if he wants us to do movies like that??"
"Then he'd be screwed," I joked. "I don't find you remotely attractive."
Donald burst out laughing and slugged my arm. I punched him back and we went home. But I laid on my pallet on the floor (where I slept) half the night thinking.

"Good morning sunshine" My brother asked as I woke up the next day. My brother was seventeen, a total juvenile delinquent and my personal hero at the time. He always seemed to have a hot girlfriend, pocket change and something cool to ride even if it was just a bike. He and his JD hood friend Rick were kicked back in the kitchen area inside the trailer puffing on a joint and staring at me. My mom had taken my sister in for a check-up. She was mentally retarded (hydrocephalus) and required regular check-ups on the little pump that drained fluid from around her brain.
"Mom says some homo's been paying you mucho dinero for mowing his lawn," my brother said.
His friend Rick, a skinny, horribly ugly redhead with zits as big as melon seeds all over his face started yucking it up. "I'll bet he's paying them to let him mow their yards, hahaha."
My brother grinned slightly. "Neh, Donald maybe. My bro aint no fag. Lend me some money bro."
I lied and told him I'd given it all to our mom.
"Liar," he laughed. "Lend me some money or I'll tell every kid around here that you and Donald are sucking dick for the money you make."
He would have too. I frowned and dug into my jeans pocket and handed him my last five. He pushed it down into his pocket.
"So whats el fagito like??"
I told them all about A.J. and his cool house.
"No shit??" My brother grinned and gave Rick a sideways glance. Rick nodded yeah and started giggling.
"Well, I don't want you going there anymore," my brother said. "Guy sounds like a major homo and my brother ain't no fag. Don't get any rep like that. You'll never live it down."
He and Rick left the trailer.

Part 4

When we went to A.J.s the weekend after, he came outside and glared at us. No smile. No hey guys.
"Both of you, get inside now."
Donald and I exchanged a look and went in. A.J. shut the door behind us and locked it. He'd never done that before.
"I guess it wasn't enough that I took pity on you two fucking ragamuffins," he said. "It wasn't enough that I gave you more money every weekend than either of your parents probably makes all week, for basically just showing up. It wasn't enough that I fed you and treated you like young men. You had to rob me!"
We proclaimed our innocence.
A.J. held out a hand. "Don't LIE to me!" He yelled the word lie. "Come here, I want to show you something."
We followed him. Someone had trashed the pool table and the jukebox. The green velvet on the table had been slashed with something sharp and the juke had been kicked in, the glass smashed. Next we went to the game room, it was ruined too. The word QUEERS EAT SHIT, FAGS MUST DIE, and ALL HOMOS ROT IN HELL were written in black marker on the walls. The big TV, the Betamax and several of the tapes were missing, stolen. A.J. showed us a note someone had scribbled onto a sheet of paper with pencil. "I found this stuck to the wall with a dart from the dart board."
We now everthing about you fag. Well go to the cops if you dont give my bruther and cusin 500 bucks when they show up to mow your queer grass.
Donald stared at me. I sighed. "I'm sorry."
"Oh, not as sorry as your going to be if I dont get my stuff back," A.J. laughed and pulled a little black gun out of his waistband. Donald pissed himself on the spot. "I have some associates with an interest in the property that was stolen. If it isnt returned, they'll come and visit both of you. And trust me, you dont fucking want that. I expect all my things returned by nightfall, and I want you both here every day cleaning and doing whatever else I say, until your debt to me is repaid. Understand??"
I said yes numbly and led a jibbering Donald out of the house.

When I got home my brother asked me how things went and we argued. I liked A.J. he had been cool with me. But my brother said he was just conning me.
"Once he had you thinking he was the greatest guy in the world, he would have put you in those sicko movies. Or worse."
My brother went to the cops and told them everything. A.J. got busted the same day. After he went to jail, Rick and my brother broke into his house again and stole everything they'd missed the first time. I never saw A.J.s 'friends' nor did I ever see A.J. again.