9.11 - 16. Chapter 16

July 12, 2001

There are times when I look back on my decisions and truly regret them. When Will had exposed the problems with our Bastille Day Party, one of my options had been to cancel the whole affair. I had ruled that out primarily in the name of tradition, deciding that an event that had gone on without exception since 1968 should not be cancelled. I had hoped instead to correct some of the errors that we had made by including a broader range of people, and I had hoped to make my wife, daughter, granddaughter, and grandson keenly aware of my displeasure with them by excluding them from the big event. Yet here we were, two days away from the party, and I was afraid that none of the results I had hoped for, except perhaps for continuity, would be achieved.

I allowed my mind to wander back over the years and reminisce about the parties we had had. Nothing had thwarted this, one of the most anticipated and sought after social events in the Bay Area, from happening. Not the revolutions of 1968; not the deaths of my partners, of Jeff, Sam, Roger, and Mouse; not the death of my son, Billy; none of those things had stopped this party. It seemed inappropriate to let a family disagreement halt it when significant losses had failed to do so.

Shortly after I had banned Claire and Isidore from the party, the cancellations had begun to come in. We had planned for a party of some four hundred people, and seventy-five of those had notified us that their plans had changed and they would be unable to attend. Of those people, all but one couple had direct ties to Claire and Isidore. It was clear that they had put the word out that they would not be there, and it would be hard not to conclude that they had encouraged their friends to boycott the event. That had really not bothered me, because a party of three hundred people was still quite the event, but Stefan had not seen it that way.

The decrease in the number of confirmed guests had hit Stefan as both an insult and a challenge, a dangerous combination to assault any mogul with. He had been infuriated, and had mobilized his own forces as if he were trying to rout an invading army. He was determined to throw an uber-party, one that would land on the record books, should such a book actually be kept. He had re-styled it as the first party of the new millennium, to give it an important feel, and treat it as a milestone to laud. A flurry of new invitations was dispatched, many to people we had never invited before. People like Noah and his parents, and professors at Stanford and other academic institutions in the Bay Area were suddenly the recipients of an invitation to our Bastille Day gala. Stefan’s staff had scoured the community lists, looking for those who had done good works, or had performed valuable community service, and had promptly invited them. I had been pleased with that approach, even when that had swelled the guest list back to over four hundred.

But that had not been enough for Stefan. He was determined to bring in star power as well. He had pulled strings and called in favors, both in the political and entertainment world, to ensure that in addition to the more bourgeois attendees, we would have a panoply of celebrities. With Robbie’s help, he had drafted *NSYNC to perform, and had chartered planes to fly up other members of the glitterati including Julia Roberts, Sandra Bullock, and Josh Hartnett. For the younger crowd, he’d pulled in the cast of Harry Potter. He’d leaked that information to the press, and they’d sensationalized the party even more. But Stef wasn’t satisfied with just celebrities, he’d determined that it was vital to ramp up the political side as well. So we would now be hosting the governor, Gray Davis, along with Senator Feinstein, who was flying out for the party with her across-the-aisle rival, Senator Danfield. Add to that a few congress people, as well as a few state legislators, and Stef had managed to cover that field as well. But of course, that was not enough either. Added to that were the business tycoons of Silicon Valley, including Steve Jobs and Larry Ellison. With the addition of those people, along with the retainers they would bring and the guests they had required us to include, the party looked to approach one thousand attendees.

Escorial sat on twenty acres of land and the house and gardens were massive enough to accommodate such a crowd, but then there were other considerations. Where would all of these people park? Would we have them park elsewhere and shuttle them here in limousines? Stef had called in the help of experienced party planners, and they had solved the parking problem by shipping sheet after sheet of plywood up here. The lumber would be laid down on the morning of the 14^th to protect the lawn, and cars would then be parked on top of the plywood by careful valets. I thought wryly that we’d probably have quite a few broken sprinkler heads to fix on July 15^th. The food and drink demands of such a crowd were mind-boggling, as was the need to stage areas for everyone to enjoy themselves. The planners were engaged to tackle that as well, and had seemingly done so. In the end, it looked as if we were as prepared for the spectacle as we could be.

Then, accounting for the fickleness of people, there were those who had summarily declined to attend at the presumed urging of Isidore and Claire, only to change their minds once the true scope of the party became known. That had sparked an unpleasant exchange with Stefan. I had wanted to graciously allow them to attend, but he had viewed them as traitors, and would not hear of it. He informed them that their places had already been given to other attendees. I rationalized that I had created this monster by turning it over to him, and that I would have to live with the consequences of my decision. I would be dishonest if I didn’t admit that Claire and Isidore had seriously vexed me with their antics, and perhaps I was feeling some level of satisfaction that their friends would have to pay by following them into party exile.

So to avoid the planners, my family, and Stefan, I had once again removed myself from the hubbub by riding my stallion across these lands that would be teeming with people in two days. I chided myself for being a coward, even as Charger cantered across the fields. I rode the horse until both of us were exhausted, and then led him back to the corral for a well-earned carrot.

“I was looking for you,” Stefan said as he spied me strolling through the Great Hall. “I wanted your input on some of these menu options.”

“I thought that was all finalized three days ago,” I said. I truly detested revisiting details I had already dispatched.

“I am concerned that the hors d’oeuvres are not adequate,” he said seriously.

“I am quite confident that they are, and I have no desire to edit them at this juncture,” I said to him, probably too firmly. “My focus is on what I am to eat right now, at dinner, and to do that, I must first get ready.”

He gave me a dour look, but relented. “Very well. We will hope that the governor is not too disappointed.”

“I think the governor will only be disappointed if the check you write for his campaign is smaller than he was led to believe,” I said, smiling at him.

“Perhaps,” Stef said, smiling back. I took that opportunity to beat a retreat to my room, and to the shower, which washed off the dirt from my ride. In the past, the social beast in me had emerged around this time to really enjoy this party; this year, I was just viewing it with dread.

I strolled into the dining room just as it chimed 7:00, my required time for dinner. I was surprised to find quite a few people seated at the table. Claire and Jack had not been up to dinner since the big altercation we’d had with Will, so it was a bit of a surprise to find them there, along with John. Isidore and Frank had been making themselves scarce as well, but they were also here tonight. And finally, Wade, Matt, Nana, and Tiffany had returned.

“Good evening,” I said to the group, then went on to welcome Wade, Matt, Tiffany, and Nana back. We sat down and I noticed two empty seats. “Are we expecting someone else tonight?” I asked Stef.

“Will and Brad were planning to be here,” he said.

“Will is not staying over, is he?” Isidore asked icily.

“He certainly may if he wishes to, as he does live here. I am not sure what his plans are, but he won’t be at the party regardless of where he stays,” I said to her just as coldly. I was adamant that he and Marie both knew they were welcome here; just not welcome to attend the party.

“Why won’t he be at the party?” Nana asked. Wade gave me an uncomfortable look, as clearly he hadn’t briefed her on what had happened.

“There was an error over the guest list, and as punishment, JP has decided that Claire, Will, Marie, and I are not allowed to attend the party,” Isidore said, being snitty.

“That is hardly a fair way to describe the issue,” Stef said, jumping in before I could. This latent tension over the party, and over planning it, was very close to boiling over, so I quickly intervened.

“No it is not, but it is not necessary to fight the same battles over and over again,” I told them.

“It is when the participants do not appear to understand the core issues in the first place,” Stefan snapped. I gave him my steeliest of looks, and that served to calm him down.

“And I don’t think it’s fair that John has to sit here and listen to this,” Claire said.

“I happen to agree with you,” I told her, and then turned to my grandson. I really liked John. He was a very pleasant person to be around, and usually perceptive enough to gauge other people’s moods and not annoy them. The only times I’d seen him fail in that were when he’d been under the aegis of his sister or parents. “I am glad you are here, John.”

“Thanks,” he said cheerfully, if a little nervously.

I focused on John, making sure I had his full attention. “I am wondering if I can impose upon you to help me out on Saturday.”

“Sure,” John said automatically. “What did you need me to do?”

“I’m going to need some help hosting the younger crowd. Darius will be here, but JJ’s presence is uncertain at this point,” I told him. I couldn’t tell if JJ was legitimately outraged over all that had happened with the party, or whether he was using it as a convenient excuse not to attend, but I hadn’t been able to convince him to show up. I was relying on Brad and Robbie to finally persuade him. “I’m wondering if you’d be willing to help Darius out.”

Most young men seemed to idolize Darius, but I’d noticed that with John it was even more pronounced. I wasn’t sure it that was because of all the time Darius had spent at Claire’s house when he was dating Ella, and he’d formed a tighter bond with John as a result; or if it had more to do with Darius as a heterosexual role model. Regardless, John always perked up when Darius was around. “I can do that,” John agreed.

“Thank you very much,” I said politely. I watched Claire grimace at that, and wondered if she’d been planning to stop John from attending. I was glad she hadn’t interceded to do that tonight; now that John had made the commitment, he would live up to it. That’s how he was.

“So Will was fighting with you?” Nana asked Isidore. If I could browbeat the rest of the people here into not discussing this, I would certainly fail when trying to do that with Nana. She was not all that unlike Tonto. Or Will.

“He was most rude, and quite disrespectful,” Isidore said haughtily.

“That much is certain,” Claire chimed in. Only this time, Jack looked uncomfortable. He would back Claire up, but his attitude made me wonder if he was perhaps starting to understand what I had tried unsuccessfully to convey to Claire and Isidore.

“When is the last time you talked to him?” Nana asked Isidore and Claire pointedly.

“Not since that evening,” Isidore said. “I would be more than happy to talk to him once he apologizes.” Claire said nothing, but was evidently in agreement, if her body language was any indication.

“How is Will?” Nana asked, concerned now. She and Will were pretty close. They had both moved here after individual traumas, and that, combined with their mutual love of riding and somewhat similar personalities, seemed to seal their friendship.

“He seems to be fine,” Stef said. “Why do you ask?”

“If you two are mad at him, and not speaking to him, that must be pretty hard on him,” Nana said to Claire and Isidore.

“If that were true, he surely would have contacted me by now,” Isidore said.

“Why would it be hard on him?” Stef asked, ignoring how petulant Isidore was being. I was impressed that he was concerned about Will to the point that he avoided launching into Isidore. She was sorely tempting a flammable response from me, and Stef did not have anything close to my patience levels. But I knew she was upset about being banned from the party, so that helped me make allowances for her terseness.

“I remember the first ride I went on with him,” Nana explained. “He was talking about what a horrible relationship he had with his mother.”

“It has not been the best,” Stef agreed.

“He told me that if it weren’t for you two,” Nana said, gesturing to Claire and Isidore, “he wouldn’t have women in his life that cared about him at all.”

“I have been irritated with him, but I still care about him, and I still love him,” Claire said evenly, in the voice she used when she was angry and just barely controlling it. I suspected that the anger she was repressing was really guilt, manifesting itself as anger, but I couldn’t be sure about that. I usually played amateur psychologist solely in my head, more to amuse myself than for any constructive purpose. Nana wisely said nothing more: she just focused on eating.

“I really think Will is handling this just fine,” Wade said, to try and calm us all down. He and Will were very close, and he usually read Will pretty well. “I think that as long as the rift doesn’t last for a long time, or doesn’t get worse, he’ll be okay.”

“In any event, it is not a problem, as Brad and Will have opted to go to Hawaii instead,” Stef said. Everyone could sense his anger beneath the surface and proceeded cautiously.

“Those two love to surf,” Matt said cheerfully, trying to move us on to lighter topics. “They’ll have a blast.” I gave him a smile to thank him for his efforts, which met with some success. Dinner progressed on calmly after that.

July 14, 2001

I sat at the kitchen table with my laptop, scanning the listings for houses on the internet. I looked at the clock and calculated the time in Palo Alto. If I were there right now, I’d be walking up to the kitchen for lunch, and the people in the kitchen would be hella pissed at me because they’d be too busy getting ready for the big party to worry about feeding me. I’d probably grab a few sandwiches and go back to my room, and then maybe I’d go talk to Grand. When the time for the party to start got closer, I’d go back to my room and take a shower, then really work to make sure I looked good. Then I’d party. Only I wasn’t there today. I was banned. I kind of missed it, but in truth, while it made me a little sad, it wasn’t a huge deal.

There were a couple of reasons for that. The first was that I’d gotten a call from Darius and JJ last night, both of them bummed that I wasn’t going. Both of them offered not to go in protest, which was amazingly cool of them. Darius was his own man now, he was over eighteen, so rebelling against Dad and Pop wouldn’t be a big deal. On the other hand, he’d promised Grand he would be there, and he was supposed to handle the younger crowd, so for him to not show would be a huge let down for Grand. He probably knew that I wouldn’t make him do that, but if I did, he’d have to face some pretty ugly shit from everyone. JJ didn’t want to go, and would love to use that as an excuse to stay home, but in his situation, to do that, he’d have to defy Dad and Pop, something that he usually didn’t do, and which may bring on some pretty nasty repercussions. Both of them put me way up there on their priority lists, and that made me feel pretty damn good.

The second reason was that I knew that being banned from the party was bothering Marie a hell of a lot more than it was bothering me. She fucking loved *NSYNC, and they were slated to play. I was bummed about not being able to hit on Josh Hartnett, but hell, I could do that some other time in LA. Was it so wrong to get such pleasure from her misery? I’d have to ask my shrink about that.

And the final reason is that I’d decided to buy a house. I’d jotted down the phone number for that house I’d seen by Hookipa Beach and lined up a meeting to take a tour. I’d seen pictures of the place, and it looked like the bomb, but I’d only seen pictures of the outside. Besides, pictures could be deceiving. I’d done all kinds of research on the other houses in the area, seeing what was for sale and how much they cost. There was also a listing in the local paper of what houses had sold for, so I factored that in too. It was like a big research project, only it was on a cool topic.

Scott came into the room wearing just his boxers. I was convinced he got off on teasing me. “Morning,” he said. “I checked on your real estate dude.”

“You checked on him? Who did you ask about him?” Who would he know in real estate?

“People who come into the shop. A couple of people worked with him, said he took good care of them. Keenan said he’s got a pretty good rep here. Works his ass off to get his name out there.”

I nodded. I’d ended up picking a random realtor, which probably wasn’t smart, but it sounded like I’d end up being OK. “So is Keenan avoiding me?” He hadn’t been around since we’d met him surfing.

“Why? You want to take him for a ride?”

I rolled my eyes at him. “I am so not taking your sloppy seconds.”

“And Robbie’s,” he added, just to bug me. When I didn’t say anything, he answered my question. “He thinks you probably wouldn’t want him around.”

“Dude, didn’t you tell him that was bullshit?” I asked emphatically. “He was really nice to me. Shit, he told me I was a good surfer. Most guys who tell me that get to fuck me.”

“Will, you’re a really good surfer,” he said seriously. I laughed. “I told him that, but he’s pretty embarrassed by that bullshit Kai pulled. To be honest, I’m pretty fucking embarrassed about it too. I had no idea the dude was such a douche.”

“Whatever,” I said, absolving him from guilt. “I’m not gonna blame you for what he does. Shit, if he’d have known who I was, that I was his summer meal ticket, he probably would have been nice to me, and just thought that shit about me behind my back.”

“Thought what shit?”

“That I’m just a fucking haole from the mainland,” I said rudely.

“He didn’t say that,” Scott objected.

“He was thinking it. He all but said it,” I retorted. I was still really pissed off at Kai. So pissed off I hadn’t surfed yesterday or today.

“I’ll tell Keenan it’s safe to come over,” he said.

“I’m very safe,” I said, pulling a condom out of my pocket and showing it to him.

“Wanna see if it fits?” he asked suggestively.

“Dude, won’t work on you. It’s a magnum,” I said. He gave me a fake pouty face that made him seem like he was my age. This dude was pretty cute. Before he could give me some smart-ass comeback, the doorbell rang. “That would be my ride,” I said. I walked by him and ran my fingers across his abdomen as I passed. I grinned as his boxers tented a bit.

I opened the door and found myself facing one hot dude. He was Asian, probably in his early to mid-20s, wearing a suit and a tie. He was pretty short, shorter than Mason. I’d put him at 5’3”, not that it mattered. He smiled and just blew me away. He had bright white, perfectly straight teeth, and his face just lit up when he showed them off. “Hi. I’m Steve Kawaguchi.”

I got my act together and held out my hand. “Will Schluter,” I said.

“Nice place,” he said, talking about our villa. “You going to sell this one when you find another place?”

“Don’t know,” I said casually. “It’s not mine. It’s my dad’s. He may want to keep it.” I led him in and showed him around, letting him see everything except Scott’s bedroom. He was being all smooth, really showing me he had his act together, but it also made me kind of tense, like I had to act all uptight. I was wearing cargo pants and a polo shirt with a T-shirt under it, and flip-flops. He was making me feel seriously underdressed. And the more time we spent together touring the house, the more formal he seemed to get.

“Nice place,” he said again.

He led me to his car, a big Lexus, and actually opened the car door for me. That was hilarious. I looked at him and started laughing. “Dude, I feel like I’m going out on a date with you.”

He got really embarrassed, and his skin turned this really beautiful shade of reddish brown. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled, and let me close my own door. He got in the driver’s side and looked at me.

“You are totally hot when you blush,” I said to him seriously. He just stammered and blushed even harder, and the harder he blushed, the harder I laughed. I finally sensed that it wasn’t funny anymore, and I was close to pissing him off.

“I don’t know why I did that,” he said, like he was pissed at himself.

“What difference does it make? I thought it was funny. You were all boring and uptight, and then you fucked up. Made you seem human.”

“I’m very human,” he said. “So how old are you?”

“I’m fourteen, but I’ll be fifteen in September,” I said.

“You look so much older than that!” he exclaimed.

“Yeah, I hear that a lot.” It was getting pretty old, everyone telling me what a fucking freak of nature I was.

“How are you going to buy a house?” he asked me.

“I’m emancipated.” I pulled out the little card I carried with me and showed it to him while we were stuck at a stoplight. “I can own property, enter into contracts, do all kinds of stuff.”

“So you can’t drive, or vote, or drink,” he mused as he looked at it, and then handed it back to me.

“That’s right,” I agreed. “And I’m not supposed to fuck anyone over eighteen, but I break that rule all the time,” I said as I winked at him.

“I’ll bet,” he said, and smiled. “This place you want to see isn’t cheap. It’s listed at two point four million. Just went on the market last week, and even though it’s expensive, we’ve had a bunch of traffic.”

“I don’t even know if I like it yet,” I said, to slow down his sales pitch.

“You’ll like it,” he promised. As we drove over to Kahului, he rambled on about real estate on Maui, and told me which areas were the most expensive, and which areas were kind of ghetto. I just let him talk, amazed at how much information he had stuffed into his brain. He was like a walking encyclopedia of Maui Real Estate.

We pulled up to the gates, which looked like they could use a little work, and he punched a code into a box that looked like the one we had at Escorial ten years ago. We drove up to this monster house that looked like it was brand new. “Dude, this house is new?”

“There are two houses,” he said, and got out of the car. I sat there, waiting for a few minutes, until he came over and opened the door for me. He frowned, I laughed, and he smiled again. “Anyway, there’s the new house that they’re just finishing up, and the old house that’s been converted into a guest house.”

He led me into the new house first, and it was fucking beautiful, or at least it would be when floors, paint, cupboards, countertops, and all the finishing shit was done. The only thing done was the walls, ceilings, and roughed in plumbing. “What happened?”

“The people who were building this house ran out of cash,” he said, shaking his head. “They were building their dream house, and put all kinds of extra shit into the construction.” He talked about insulation, wiring, plumbing, and water retention shit that I knew nothing about, but I nodded anyway. “So now it’s halfway done.”

“What am I supposed to do with a house that isn’t done?” I asked.

“This house is listed at just under two and a half million because it isn’t done. It’s on half an acre of land, on the beach. If it were finished, and done right, it would be worth four million easy, probably closer to five,” he said. “So their mistake is your gain. Plus, that way you get to pick all the stuff you want to use.” Wheels were turning in my brain, knowing that I’d least have one person on board with this.

We wandered outside to the back of the house where the pool was situated. It was strange that while the house was still under construction, the pool and the rest of the yard looked finished. The pool was one of those invisible edge pools that were so cool. It seemed like the water just went on all the way to the ocean. And that was the biggest deal of all. I all but ran out to the bluff and saw a set of steps leading down to the beach. I would be able to get up in the morning and go straight down to surf. I looked at the waves and they were good today. They were calling me. They wanted me to buy this house, I told myself, and then chuckled.

“Here’s the original house,” he said. “It was completely redone when they added the pool. Now it will make a great guest house.” It was nice enough, but it was done in that island theme, with lots of fronds and leaves and bamboo, and that was so not me. “Two bedrooms, two baths, a kitchen and family room,” he added.

“I like it,” I said, smiling at him.

“Told you,” he said. “Let’s write up a contract.”

“You’re kind of pushy,” I teased. “I need food.”

“You like seafood? There’s a great fish house, Mama’s, right by here.”

“I don’t like seafood,” I said. “It’s karma. If I don’t eat what’s in the ocean, what’s in the ocean won’t eat me.”

“You live on the land,” he said.

“Yeah, but deadly cow and chicken attacks are pretty rare,” I said, giving him shit.

“Fine, we’ll do a steakhouse.”

“You don’t have to be bitchy about it,” I said, giving him shit.

“This is like a date,” he grumbled. “This is how most of them go. I buy dinner, and they bitch the entire time.” I laughed with him.

We went to a good restaurant and he got all these contracts and shit out. “So I want this place,” I told him, “and I can afford it, but I don’t want to finalize the deal until my dad or my grandfather has a chance to look at it.”

I expected him to give me a whole bunch of crap about that, some big sales pitch, but he didn’t. “That makes sense. How long until you can get them out here?”

“Probably sometime this week,” I said. “I’ll call them tomorrow and set it up.”

“We can put in a contract contingent on their approval,” he said. “That’s pretty weird, but the buyer will know your family, so they know they won’t get jerked around on the financing.”

“So how does that work?” I asked. “I mean, that’s why they should be here.”

“I’ll walk you through it,” he said confidently. “They’re asking the two million four. I think if you closed within a couple of weeks, and took it as is, you could snag it for an even two.” I argued with him about that, showing off all the shit I’d learned while surfing the net. “You know quite a lot about this market,” he said, eying me with respect. But he still convinced me to go in at two million.

I couldn’t get the surfers to respect me here, but I could get the realtor to do it. “I figured if I’m going to risk this much money, I better make an informed decision.” He nodded, then he talked about inspections and shit we’d have to do, and wrote that into the contract, then put in a clause that said if my dad didn’t like the deal we could blow it out by the 20^th of July, but it would cost me ten grand. I wrote him a check for the ten thousand dollars, signed off on the contract, and he called the other agent. We ended up going back to his office to do all the faxing of contracts and shit, but by the end of the day, the contract was done. Now I’d just have to sell it to my dad. “You’re probably anxious to get rid of me, but can we go see it one more time?”

“Sure,” he said. “I’m free.” We drove back and I looked through the place again, taking an hour’s worth of pictures and notes.

We ended up back in the guest house, since it was done and still furnished. “I guess after we close, I could stay here while they finish the other house off.”

“You could. This furniture is included,” he said. I lay on the bed.

“It’s kind of lumpy.”

He lay down next to me. “You’re right,” he said, making me laugh.

I leaned up on my side, propping my head up with my hand, and smiled at him. “You know, you took me on this nice date. You opened the doors for me, you bought me dinner, and you helped me buy a house.”

“I’m one hell of a guy,” he joked.

“I feel like the least I can do is blow you,” I said, and raised my eyebrow suggestively.

He swallowed hard, and I could tell he so wanted me to do it. “You don’t have to do that,” he said nervously.

I positioned myself so my face was even with his crotch. “What if I told you that I want to?”

“I dunno,” he said, smiling. I reached up and massaged his groin, feeling his dick harden under my hand, and then I undid his belt, his pants, and pulled them down. “I shouldn’t be doing this,” he said, just as I took him in my mouth. He moaned and stopped arguing about it. He was pretty small, which worked out well, because he got really into it. He was being all shy, wanting to fuck my face, but not wanting to do that if I didn’t want him to. I grabbed his hand and put it on the back of my head, and pulled up long enough to look him in the eye and talk to him.

“Fuck me,” I ordered. “Slam that dick in my mouth.” He groaned and started face-fucking me. He was a fit little guy, and pretty powerful, so when he slammed into my mouth, his pubic bone smashed my nose. I adjusted my face so that didn’t happen, what with my just-recently broken nose, and let him go nuts. He really took his time, making it last, going slow, then fast, then slow, until he finally blasted this huge load down my throat.

He lay there afterward, panting, while I just smiled down at him. “That was fucking amazing.”

“I hear that all the time,” I joked.

“I’ll bet,” he said, and took me back to the villa.