Away & Back

By GA Hauser

Forty year old Los Angeles attorney, Channing Preston, faced a tragedy parents fear the most, he lost his fourteen year old son, Gerry. Even though the incident was seven years ago, the anguish that destroyed his marriage and nearly destroyed him, still haunts him.
While reading the newspaper Channing sees a photo of a local man who is being selected to a new job with a city office. When he reads the name of this man, his heart stops.
Could his son be alive?
Channing hires the firm’s private investigator immediately to find out.
What Channing discovers is not good news, but the interaction Channing has with the individual who has taken his son’s identification is confusing at the very least.
A father who has lost it all and a mysterious man that appears out of nowhere.
Two men; both victims of tragedy meet in the most bizarre circumstance.
Away & Back. Was it possible to get back what you thought you had once lost? It’s something Channing is going to find out.

• Language: English
• Publisher: GA Hauser
• Release date: Feb 22, 2016
• ISBN: 9781310529436

GA Hauser

About the AuthorAuthor G.A. Hauser is from Fair Lawn, New Jersey, USA. She attended university at The Fashion Institute of Technology in NYC, and has a BA in Fine Art from William Paterson College in Wayne NJ where she graduated Cum Laude. As well as degrees in art, G.A. is a Graduate Gemologist from the Gemological Institute of America (GIA). In 1994 G.A. graduated the Washington State Police academy as a Peace Officer for the Seattle Police Department in Washington where she worked on the patrol division. She was awarded Officer of the Month in February 2000 for her work with recovering stolen vehicles and fingerprint matches to auto-theft and bank robbery suspects. After working for the Seattle Police, G.A. moved to Hertfordshire, England where she began to write full length gay romance novels. Now a full-time writer, G.A. has penned over 200 novels and short stories. Breaking into independent film, G. A. was the executive producer for her first feature film, CAPITAL GAMES which included TV star Shane Keough in its cast. CAPITAL GAMES had its Film Festival Premiere at Philly's Qfest, and its television premiere on OutTV. G.A. is the director and executive producer for her second film NAKED DRAGON, which is an interracial gay police/FBI drama filmed in Los Angeles with the outstanding cinematographer, Pete Borosh. (also the Cinematographer for Capital Games)The cover photographs of G.A.'s novels have been selected from talented and prolific photographers such as Dennis Dean, Dan Skinner, Michael Stokes, Tuta Veloso, Hans Withoos, and CJC Photography, as well as graphic comic artist, Arlen Schumer. Her cover designs have featured actors Chris Salvatore, Jeffery Patrick Olson, Tom Wolfe, and models Brian James Bradley, Bryan Feiss, Jimmy Thomas, Andre Flagger, among many others.Her advertisements have been printed in Attitude Magazine, LA Frontier, and Gay Times.G. A. has won awards from All Romance eBooks for Best Author 2009, Best Novel 2008, Mile High, Best Author 2008, Best Novel 2007, Secrets and Misdemeanors, and Best Author 2007.G.A. was the guest speaker at the SLA conference in San Diego, in 2013, where she discussed women writing gay erotica and has attended numerous writers’ conventions across the country.

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AWAY AND BACK

By

G.A.HAUSER

Smashwords Edition

Copyright © G.A. Hauser, 2016

AWAY AND BACK

Copyright © G.A. Hauser, 2016

Cover photographer: Dennis Dean

ISBN Trade paperback: 978-1519763358

© The G.A. Hauser Collection LLC

This is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or business establishments, events or locales is coincidental.

All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

WARNING

This book contains material that maybe offensive to some: graphic language, homosexual relations, adult situations. Please store your books carefully where they cannot be accessed by underage readers.

First The G.A. Hauser Collection LLC publication:

February 2016

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About the photographer:

Dennis Dean Images

Dennis Dean continues to make his mark as an internationally known photographer. He is credited for his creative abilities, strong composition, and dramatic lighting. Dennis’s work has earned numerous awards and has been featured in several gay magazines and in a plethora of art publications, including G. A. Hauser erotic novels, as well as countless exhibitions, including two in London at the Adonis Art Gallery.

Also, look for his work of eye-catching images with the apparel brand, Ruff Riders www.theruffrider.com.

See more of his work at www.dennisdean.com.

Chapter 1

I understand your concern, Channing Preston said, seated at his desk in his law office in Los Angeles, …but you realize the state has already ruled on this issue, and I doubt we can overturn it.

You can’t even get it before a judge?

Channing reclined in the leather swivel chair, his view from his window was of the downtown skyline. I’ll draw up a motion, but I think this would be best handled by a mediator.

Well, let me know if a judge will hear it, if not, I’ll think about mediation.

Fine. Channing tapped the button on his earpiece and disconnected the call. He looked at the files on his desk, could see interns and associates passing his glass wall; everyone busy working.

It was nearing five pm, and Channing was tired. He picked up a file to read and accidentally toppled over a small framed photograph.

Channing put the file down and went to set the small five by seven frame upright again. As he did, he paused to look at it.

It was a photograph taken of his son, age seven, and himself. They had gone fishing. Gerry caught his first trout, and was so proud.

A junior associate tapped at his doorframe. Ya got a minute, Channing?

Channing put the photograph down and interlaced fingers, resting his arms on the desk. Sure.

Jett, a young woman wearing a blazer and short skirt, sat down on a chair in front of him, holding paperwork. Since you’re a senior partner, I just want to clear this with you.

Channing nodded, knowing at forty, he was the youngest of the named partners, but the staff seemed to be at his door more than his associates.

It’s a case that I think we should file as workplace discrimination, but the plaintiff is slightly nervous about revealing his sexual orientation publicly.

Immediately Channing knew why Jett had brought this case to his attention. He was the most liberal of his partners as well.

Can I read the notes and get back to you? When do you have to appear in court? Channing asked.

It’s not in court just yet. The client is coming in first for a meeting. Jett checked her watch. In an hour.

Raising his eyebrows expressively, Channing replied, I take it you just got this case assigned.

I did.

Channing reached for the paperwork. I’ll let you know.

Thank you, Channing. She smiled and left him to read it.

Channing removed the earpiece of his phone and read the pending complaint. It was an employee suing an employer for wrongful dismissal.

The moment Channing read the client’s statement, which claimed he had been the victim of gay slurs, there was no doubt this was motivated by hate. He stood, holding the papers, and intended on contacting Jett in her office. As he exited, their mail clerk approached him with letters, files, and a newspaper.

Sir? He held up the stack in his hand.

Just set it on my desk. Thank you. Channing straightened his suit jacket and tie and found Jett working on her computer. Jett? Channing asked.

Yes? She stood, looking anxious.

There’s no doubt this can be handled as discrimination, but if the client isn’t comfortable having this revealed in a courtroom, then you must respect his wishes.

I figured that. She took back the papers. Once I have a preliminary chat with him, can I arrange a meeting with you and our opposition?

If you think it’s necessary. But, Jett, you’re perfectly capable of handling this yourself.

Thank you, Channing.

He left, and poured a cup of coffee for himself in the break room before returning to his office. Once he set the mug down on his desk, he looked through the pile of mail that was left on top of his files.

As he opened the envelopes with a letter opener, he glanced at them briefly, stacking them, and then removed the rubber band from the newspaper. He read the headlines and was about to fold it and read it during his lunch break, when he saw a photo and caption.

‘Gerry Preston appointed to CLA civil engineering department.’

Channing held the newspaper closer to inspect the photo. A young man with brown hair and a fabulous smile was shaking another man’s hand.

A cold sensation hit Channing in the gut. He looked at the photograph on his desk and then at the newspaper picture.

Checking the time, Channing used his cell phone and made a call.

Channing?

Kim. Are you free for a second? Channing knew it was near three pm in New York.

What’s wrong? I haven’t heard from you in years. Are you all right?

I want to preface this call first. Don’t get angry with me.

Channing, she said, moaning. What is it?

I’m at my desk at work, and the LA newspaper was just given to me.

And?

Kim, there’s a photo in the local section. It’s of a young man named Gerry Preston. He’s been accepted to CLA’s engineering staff.

Silence hit the other end of his phone call.

Kim?

How dare you.

I asked you not to get upset.

I lost my son seven years ago, Channing.

Our son. Channing looked at the photograph.

Simply because some young man has his name means nothing!

I know. Kim, calm down. This photograph, if you could see it—

I don’t want to see it! she yelled, sounding like she was in tears. It was your idea to send him away! Your idea for him to go to that youth program! Cambodia? What did you think would happen to him there?

Channing put the paper down and rubbed his eyes. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bring it all back.

It’s been seven years, Channing. A mother never gets over losing her child. Why did you do this?

Kim, I miss him as much as you do. I just thought the resemblance—

We buried him, Channing. We buried our baby.

The pain hit Channing hard. What if it was a mistake? That body was so charred—

The line disconnected.

Kim? Channing looked at his phone. He set it on his desk, knowing it was cruel. Losing a child. There was no greater pain.

Channing picked up the newspaper again and stared at the photograph. His ex-wife was right. He was grasping at ghosts.

Lights began to turn off around him. Channing checked the time just as a senior associate, Art Webber, poked his head into the office and said, Go home, Channing. Have a good weekend.

Thanks. Channing kept typing on the computer, then saved his draft and began shutting the program down. It wasn’t unusual for him to be one of the last ones out of the office. And if he stayed late, he missed most of the LA rush hour.

He checked his watch. It was seven. Time to go home. He made sure his files were stored in a locked cabinet, put his suit jacket on, and shut off his light. The entire floor was owned by their law firm, and no one was left in it. Just before he closed his office door, he picked the newspaper up, tucked it under his arm, and left.

After a long week, his body felt fatigue and with the February days, came long, dark nights. During the summer, he exercised by running in the cool crisp hours before work, usually six a.m. In the winter, it was dark even then. Dark. It seemed that’s all that surrounded him lately. Darkness.

He rode the elevator to the parking garage, seeing few cars remaining. He pointed his key-fob at his brand new BMW coup. Standing beside the open driver’s door, he removed his jacket, and tossed it, and the newspaper, onto the passenger’s seat. Yes, he could work all weekend, but he didn’t want to. Seventy hours of his life per week given to the firm was enough. Channing relaxed in the leather driver’s seat and backed out of his space, headed to his one-point-seven million dollar home in Manhattan Beach.

Since it was later than the usual rush hour, his drive was relatively traffic free. He listened to a news station, and at the moment they were discussing rain and drought. The words began to sound like a dull hum because his mind was on other things.

He parked in his detached garage, one located just behind his house, took his jacket and newspaper, closing the garage door, and walked to the side entrance of his four-bedroom-three-bathroom, two-level home. The pool was lit by solar lights, and he had a view of the city.

He tapped the code into the alarm pad, and began loosening his tie, tossing the newspaper on the kitchen counter. In his bedroom, he placed his suit jacket down, toed off his shoes, and undressed. Most of the two-thousand-and-fifteen square footage of this home had wood flooring, but his bedrooms and the living room were covered in light carpet, not white, but very light, matching the walls.

He stripped down completely, put on a bathing suit, and exited the back of the house. Turning on one spotlight, Channing dove into the pool and swam laps. The water was heated and at the moment, running on his treadmill or on the dark streets didn’t appeal.

After fifty laps of the front crawl, he paused, wiped the water from his eyes, and leaned on the smooth, white edge, catching his breath.

His mind was a horrific jumble.

Of course he had hoped his son had not died. Yes, he would give anything to find they had been mistaken and Gerry was alive.

But, if he was, wouldn’t he have contacted me or his mother?

Channing rested his head on his arms and closed his eyes.

That death. It was the end of his marriage to Kim. She shut down. She shunned him.

In reality- she blamed him. Still. He thought he had finally forgiven himself. Maybe not. It wasn’t as if he sent his son to war. It was an accident. A terrible accident.

After a shower, Channing wore a soft pair of flannel pajama bottoms and poured himself a glass of vodka. He was going to relax in his living room and watch TV when he noticed the newspaper he had brought home from work. He set his glass down and picked up the local section, looking at the young man in the photo.

How many Gerry with a ‘G’ Prestons can there be?

Hundreds? Channing tossed the newspaper on the coffee table, sipped his drink, and picked up the television remote. Why was this gnawing at him? It wasn’t odd for a father to miss his child. But it was odd for him to think his child had not died, but somehow remained hidden from him for seven years. That was not possible.

He turned on the television and muted the volume as he scanned channels. His eye kept being drawn to his mantle over his fireplace. After taking another sip of his drink, he stood, looking at the few photos he’d displayed; all of them were of his son.

A smile came to Channing’s lips seeing Gerry in his little league uniform, a bat in his hands, his happy smile.

Soon that sense of joy turned to sadness.

After Gerry’s death, which left so many unanswered questions, inconsistency, and mystery as it was, Kim fell apart and even tried to commit suicide. Nothing Channing did helped her. She moved out of their home, not the one he now lived in, but the one they shared in Malibu with