Summer - 11. Magic

Brett, standing behind his son, made to intervene. CJ clamped his hand around his dad’s arm, holding him back, with surprising strength. “Oh no you don’t, Papa, I’ve got this one. I’m gonna take care of this asshole myself. You and Dad move back a bit, give me room.”

When CJ saw the biker lunge at him, he spun around at the same instant, raising his left foot in a graceful move―it brought to mind something a ballet dancer might do. The boot impacted the charging man’s torso just above his diaphragm, causing the stricken man to emit a whoosh as he exhaled. He doubled over for an instant, staggered backward, and shook his head repeatedly. He stared at CJ, a furious expression on his face, before once again charging the young man. This time he was met with a flurry of kicks and slaps which forced him down onto the parking lot asphalt, leaving him with a bloody nose. The resulting bruising and pain would surely last for days.

“How you like it, asshole? A fifteen-year-old gay boy just kicked your ass in front of everyone, and you couldn’t do shit about it. Maybe next time you’ll think twice before picking on someone just ‘cause they might be gay. You ready to apologize to my pal now?”

“Fuck you…” The guy was on his hands and knees, trying to stand up when CJ gave him one more shove. This time the bully landed on his butt, put his hands down to break his fall, and badly scraped them on the coarse surface. “Fine, fine. Sorry,” the humiliated bully mumbled.

“Not good enough, motherfucker. You dissed my friend, bullied him, and pissed me off in the process.” Had this been an old cartoon reel, there would have been smoke coming out of CJ’s ears, flames shooting out of his eyes, and spit flying everywhere. “I want you to stand up, shake his hand, and apologize loud enough for everyone to hear.” CJ’s tone was something he’d not used since his arrival in Washington, or during previous visits with his dads.

“Come on, Fred,” said a man who’d been standing next to the bully when the confrontation started. “Get it over with, and let’s get out of here.”

Staring at his boots, the guy slightly swiveled his head left and right, there was no way he could miss noticing he was the center of attention of the crowd. Apparently wanting to end the embarrassing situation, he tightened his jaw, looked up at Elliot, and stated he was sorry for his comments and for pushing him.

The crowd applauded and multiple riders approached the boys to shake their hands; they both received plenty of congratulatory slaps on the back. CJ was certain he and Elliot would be bruised the next day. The chastened man turned around, got on his bike, and left―must have forgotten all about the rally.

Brett, César, Rashid, and Devon stared at the kid, their mouths hanging open, disbelief evident on their faces. Later, CJ would have to reassure them he still was the even-tempered, friendly boy, they had been interacting with for the past week.

As the rush of adrenalin subsided, CJ began to relax and realized he had almost allowed his emotions to cloud his judgment. He was capable of killing a man―this time he had stopped at the right point, something he must never forget in any future altercations.

Grabbing Elliot’s arm, he pulled him towards the four adults, “I want you to meet my fathers and my uncles.”

“Fathers? You have two dads?”

“Yeah my dad’s a fruit, and so is his boyfriend. Oh and the dark-skinned wet dreams? They’re also part of the fruit salad.” The boy was once again acting his age, enjoying himself, making fun of his own family.

“Why you disrespectful twerp…,” said Dragon trying not to laugh.

“Dude, these are my parents, César Abelló and Captain Brett Davenport, the two shifty-looking ones are Rashid Khan and Devon Jefferson. Guys, this is Elliot.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Elliot,” said César as he shook the young man’s hand. “Are you okay? Were you hurt when the guy pushed you?”

“No, sir, I’m not hurt at all. I’m fine.” He turned to CJ who was standing by the side with a smile on his face, avoiding the stares his dads and uncles were giving him, “Thank you, CJ. Thank you so much for standing up for me. Can I give you a hug goodbye?”

“Hugs are always welcome, dude. But what’s this goodbye crap? You think I might ride bitch on your scooter?”

“Really? You wanna ride with me?” a surprised-looking Elliot asked.

“Hell yeah. I’d hate to be surrounded by old fags, they might try to molest me!”

“Asshole!” shouted his dads laughing.

“Dad? Papa? Okay?”

“Sure, bud, but why don’t we have you guys ride in the center of our little pack? That’s if you don’t mind being seen with these decrepit homos. Oh and the two of us will enjoy having a conversation with you later, concerning what just happened,” replied Brett with raised eyebrows.

Elliot shook his head in amazement. “Please if this is a dream don’t let me wake up. My boyfriend isn't here ‘cause he had work today. He’s never going to believe what happened, and how I ended up riding with the five hottest guys at the rally.”

“Well, I guess we’ll have to show him. Let me have your phone,” said CJ. With the most endearing smile he could conjure up, he approached one of the bystanders, who had witnessed the entire episode. “Ma’am, may I bother you to take a picture of the six of us?”

“Son, it would be my pleasure. What you did for your new friend was one of the most courageous things I’ve ever seen. My grandson’s been bullied at school and I wish he had someone like you around. I’m sure in the eyes of many people in this crowd, you’re a hero. If you’re inclined to join the military, any of the services would be lucky to have you.”

”Thank you,” said an embarrassed boy in almost a whisper.

The lady took several shots, handed the phone back to Elliot, and he sent a text to his boyfriend with a couple of them attached. A few minutes later, the group climbed astride the motorcycles, as their departure time approached. Riding across the bridge, CJ held on tight to his new friend who confessed the contact was giving him a woody. “Same with me, bud, same with me; ignore it and it’ll go away. Save it for your other half, you’re married!”

Later, after saying goodbye to their new acquaintance, the five men rode over to Rogo’s to get something to eat. The entire day had been an amazing experience, and the time spent walking near the Vietnam Veterans Memorial Wall had been extremely emotional.

Watching men and women make rubbings or tracings of the names of loved ones inscribed upon the wall, and seeing tears roll down their faces while they performed such a simple task, caused their own eyes to water. Old ladies, veterans wearing their now ill-fitting uniforms, and young children maybe brought to pay honor to a lost grandparent, all spoke in whispers. Their combined voices resembled the sound of a requiem for the brave men and women who’d lost their lives so far away from home. CJ told his fathers he would be coming back one afternoon next week; he wanted to explore the memorial when the crowds were not as large. That war had been over long before he was born, but its effects were still felt today. The boy knew there were lessons to be learned as a result.

A shout from Brett’s CO greeted them as they walked into the bar. Colonel Edwards was sitting at a prime spot with Alex Minsky. They found out Mrs. Edwards had declined the invitation to join them, telling her husband no way was she going to hang out at a bar with a bunch of marines and bikers. Since the next day was a holiday, she called them a cab, told them to enjoy themselves, and drove herself home in the Colonel’s car.

There were a couple of pitchers of beer, with bags of ice floating in them to keep the brew cold, and a bunch of mugs waiting. Alex asked CJ what he wanted to drink and went to get the teenager his sparkling water with a lime, telling him he should take the seat next to his.

“Colonel, if I had known the people you were waiting for were these hoodlums, you’d never gotten the best spot in the joint.” The comment came from a tall, dark-skinned man, with long hair, triangular eyebrows, and an intricate geometric tattoo encircling his left forearm. He had approached the table from the back of the bar, through a door most likely leading to the kitchen, as he was wearing a food splattered apron, and was drying his hands with a tea towel.

“I recognized the pretty guy with you from seeing underwear ads, an article I read online, and downloading some very revealing selfies―love the ink, dude. And I don’t think anyone would laugh if they saw the uncensored version of those. But, Colonel, your taste in other friends is very questionable.” At the mention of revealing selfies, Alex looked down at his glass of sparkling water, a slight smile appearing on his face. In contrast, CJ’s eyes traveled upwards not downward, as he perked up and paid closer attention.

“Huh?” was all Colonel Edwards could utter.

“Asshole!” shouted César and Brett while CJ giggled.

“Huh?” uttered the Colonel once again.

“Great, four homos and a teenager. I better not be raided for corruption of a minor by the cops. Just make sure none of you perverts do anything in front of the other patrons.”

“Huh?” exclaimed Brett’s CO for the third time. Seeing César rise from his chair and hug the man barking out the remarks, once again calling him an asshole, he realized all these men knew each other.

“That’s my son, Danno. Watch your damn language and get your mind out of the gutter!”

“Fuck me! You can’t be CJ,” he said addressing the youngster and extending his fist for a bump. “Dude, like you’re not the little kid your dads led us to believe. Damn, kiddo, what a fucking stud!”

“Oh crap, here we go again,” said Brett.

“Excuse me,” they heard someone say and turned simultaneously to see a guy somewhere in his mid-twenties, look at the teen and extend his hand to shake. “My name’s Graham, my girlfriend and I were at the rally today and saw what happened in the parking lot.” CJ’s embarrassed blush was so bright one could almost read by the glow on his face―he didn’t know where to look.

“You have big cojones, dude. What you did was magic. I’d ride with you anytime, anywhere. Good going, guy!”

“Thank you,” was all the polite kid said as the fellow biker strolled towards the bar.

Brett and César had smiles from ear to ear and King and Dragon bumped fists in acknowledgment of their nephew’s heroics.

“Someone wanna fill me in?” asked Colonel Edwards waving his unlit cigar around.

“Sure thing, Colonel. Sit down Wolf, have we got a tale to tell you,” said Dragon, as he moved his chair to make room for the man with interesting eyebrows, which at that point rose almost to his scalp. “CJ, this here’s Wolf, known as Danno to almost everyone, with a Hawaiian tongue twister for his full name I always mispronounce. He owns this joint and over the past few months we’ve all gotten pretty used to his being a pain in the butt.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir. Dad and Papa told me we were coming to a place owned by a friend but didn’t say who it was. You look very familiar, haven’t I seen you on TV?”

“Yeah, well, maybe. We can talk about it some other time. I wanna hear what happened at the parking lot of the Pentagon that made a stranger want to shake your hand.”

CJ sat looking at his glass, while Dragon recounted what had taken place at the Pentagon. He might have embellished the story a bit, but for the most part, it was accurate. The kid felt the gaze of those who had not witnessed his performance in person sweep over him repeatedly as they listened in rapt attention. As the story came to an end, the Colonel took the unlit cigar he had been chewing out of his mouth, stood up, and saluted the youngster. Alex and Brett followed the example of their fellow Marine and all three ended with a loud ‘Oorah!’

“How about telling us about your self-defense training, CJ?” asked the older Marine. “Somebody may have embellished the story a bit in the retelling, but I’m sure it wasn’t all horseshit―unless he’s a sailor and then anything is possible.”

“Not much to tell, Colonel. My stepfather put me in a Judo class when I was ten and I loved it. Two years ago I switched to Taekwondo when my previous sensei retired. Last summer, after acknowledging to myself I was gay, I worked hard trying to bulk up and add some muscle in case I ever had to defend myself. I had seen kids get taunted and called names when bullies thought they were gay. I was determined not to become a victim if placed in the same position.”

During the afternoon at Rogo’s, Colonel Edwards invited CJ to come out to the Pentagon on Tuesday and spend the day as his guest. Brett would be working from his new office that day. César obtained the necessary information from Alex to contact the photographer who had taken the picture banned by Facebook; he planned on purchasing a quality print of it.

At some point in the early evening, Danno tuned every television set in the place to the HEAT-Pacers game, in honor of the young hero and his favorite team. Miami’s victory had even the casual fans cheering. When the game was over, the bar owner stored his friends’ motorcycles in the large warehouse attached to his establishment, which he also owned, and called them a taxi―he didn’t want them riding home after all the beers the two adults had drunk. César, Brett, and CJ finally returned to the Georgetown townhouse sometime past midnight.

“Babe, did you get the feeling our boy downplayed the amount of training he has?” César was crawling under the covers as Brett asked his question.

“Yup, he never went into a lot of detail. I think CJ can hold his own in a fight―we have to make sure he realizes it won’t be enough if he faces a group or if he’s blindsided. I think the martial arts training is another reason his body has developed the way it has over the past year.”

“I’ll talk to him about overconfidence, I can use some examples from Iraq and two or three of my fellow marines who thought they were hot shit. G’night babe, love you”

“Love you too, Jarhead. Night.”

The next morning, the three men headed to Yates for their first joint work-out; Brett was certain he would prove CJ could not wear him out as he had done César. When a hot redhead walked past them, nodded his head, and smiled at CJ, the marine was not going to pass up the chance to have some fun with his son.

“You know that guy’s going to jerk off thinking about you later, right?”

“Asshole! I’ve seen the guy all over the place since I got into town, Papa. He must be a student or something here.”

Ninety minutes later, all three were soaking wet and headed home to clean up and change. Brett had to admit the teen set a murderous pace to his workout and maybe he had been slacking a bit in his exercising after all. Once outside the doors, the dripping teen took his dark blue t-shirt―with the Captain America shield on the chest―off and used it to wipe his pits and chest.

“Show off!” said César to his son.

“Come on, Dad, don’t hate me ‘cause I’m a stud!” said CJ laughing as he started running, wanting to avoid the head slaps he knew would be aimed his way.

The lunchtime crowd at Rogo’s was always an eclectic mix―businessmen, politicians, college students, neighborhood residents, and a sprinkling of tourists who somehow found the out-of-the-way spot. The menu consisted of the usual bar fare: burgers, wings, sandwiches, and the usual sides. In a bow to the owner’s eating habits, salads and other vegetarian dishes were also available.

“I want the Blue Plate special, Dads―parsley potatoes and steamed veggies as my sides. I haven’t had meatloaf in a while.”

“Sounds good to me. Brett?”

“Works for me also. Three specials and three teas?”

Danno appeared to be short-handed in the staff department and didn’t get a chance to visit with them until near the end of their meal.

“Hey, guys, great to have you back in here.”

“Wish we were able to make it more often for lunch, buddy. Now that he knows the way, the kid may drop in now and then,” said César. “His summer plans aren't set but he’s the one with the free weekdays for now. Although Brett’s going to be closer starting soon, so maybe we can all show up together once in a while.”

“You’ll always be welcome here, kiddo, with or without the rents. I’ll make sure the staff knows we’re family in case I’m not around. Just think of me as your good-looking uncle and come visit.”

“Good-looking my ass!” Brett grunted as he shoveled food into his mouth.

“That’s what your hubby keeps telling us, Jarhead!” The good-natured, verbal sparring was cut short when the Hawaiian was called away to deal with some issue in the kitchen.

“He’s funny. How did you meet him?” asked CJ.

“Through Dragon. The two of them belong to the same gym,” replied César.

“Sorry about that, guys,” he said a little while later when he made his way back to their table. “Adriano, my general manager and second-hand man went with his pregnant wife to a doctor’s appointment this morning. I have to fill in until he can get back. Wanted to let you know there was a reporter friend of mine in here yesterday, someone I’ve been kinda seeing for the past few months. He heard Dragon recounting CJ’s exploits and I swear he started drooling. The man could smell a story in the air. He asked me about you all and tried to get contact information, but I put him off. Told him to drop it until I gave him permission to bring it up again. He wants to write a story for the Washington Blade about the incident.”

“Don’t think so, Uncle Danno. I'd prefer not to get any publicity, dads.” CJ was firm in his response, leaving no doubt he had no interest. “All I did was help out someone being bullied.”

“Then he'll get nothing from me, but the guy’s a pro. He’s tenacious and he’ll track you all down. He’ll try to do it through the Colonel at the Pentagon, I’m sure. Trip’s a good boy though, he'd treat you right if he does write something.

“Hate to run, but you can see the rush is nowhere near being over. You know the code to enter the warehouse, so go in and get the bikes; make sure to set the alarm when you leave. CJ, next visit I’ll give you a tour of the place―it houses my little muscle car collection. Plus the contractor is almost finished building the loft apartment in there that will be my new home and you can check that out too.”

“Thanks, bud,” said Brett. “We’ll see you this coming weekend during Pride.”

CJ was dropped off at Brooks Brothers while his dads headed home. Hyo, the Korean tailor, had done a great job and everything fit how it was meant to. Because of the multitude of hanging bags, CJ caught a cab back to the townhouse. Of course, he had to model all the new clothes for his fathers. Brett had the boy walking up and down as if on a fashion runway while he and César enjoyed the show with a glass of wine.

“You know something, honey? Our boy could dabble in modeling and bring in good bucks, maybe we should have him talk to JP about it?”

“No way, Papa! I ain’t parading my butt around for people to gawk at. Hey, why Uncle JP? Was he a model?

“Yep, back when we were both at Berkley.”

“Wait, you guys were in college at the same school at the same time?”

“Yeah, his parents wanted him to study in the US so he would have the experience of living in another country. We even went out on a couple of dates; we decided we weren't a real good match and remaining friends was a much better idea. Thanks to him I met your father.”

“Really? You two went out? Did you and Uncle JP fuck while you were dating?”