Autumn - 14. Ramrod

“Anybody awake yet? It’s almost eight!” Although Rod had a key to his brother’s place, if Natasha had been in town, he wouldn’t have climbed the stairs uninvited. Since she wasn’t, and there was no response to his greeting, he decided to head up and get the guys going.

The door to the master bedroom was closed, and the one to the guest room wasn’t. He peeked in and was shocked by who he saw sleeping on the big bed. Shaking his head, he closed his eyes for a moment and tried to decide what to do. Quietly stepping inside, he moved to the side his brother was laying on, and gently tapped him on the shoulder, not wanting to startle him. He was under the covers spooning CJ. Their upper bodies were uncovered, his furry arm visible, wrapped around their cousin’s chest.

“Randy, wake up. Come on, asshole. Wake up.”

“What the fuck, bro?” Randy partially opened his eyes and turned on his back, untangling himself from CJ. The boy stirred but didn’t wake. “What the hell’s your problem?”

“Quiet. Don’t wake CJ. Get up and come downstairs.”

“Fine. Gimmie a minute. Gotta pee first.” The half-asleep man threw the covers off and sat up, stretching his arms while slowly twisting his head and body from side to side. He stood, scratched his groin, and walked towards the bathroom with his erection leading the way. “Make yourself useful, go start the coffeemaker.”

Still naked and not fully awake, he walked into the kitchen a few minutes later, piss boner deflated. The coffee was already brewing, the aroma starting to permeate the room. “Now, wanna tell me what the hell your problem is? It’s too goddamned early to be up on a Sunday morning. And why aren’t you at your girlfriend’s place banging the hell out of her?”

“I can’t believe you fucked our under-aged cousin. And I broke up with the bitch.”

“Huh? What are you talking about? Fucked CJ? I did no such thing.” Randy opened the cabinet above the kitchen counter to reveal brightly colored Fiesta mugs hanging from hooks. He took two out, and before the brewing cycle was finished, filled them both. His first sip of the steaming beverage made him close his eyes, a contented sigh escaping his lips. “You broke up with her?” He asked, coming awake. Rod’s comment at last registered. “What happened?”

“Really? You did no such thing? Care to explain why, when I walk in this morning, I find the two of you in bed naked? You were fucking spooning him and you had a hard-on! Oh, and let’s not forget the full, tied-off condoms laying on the floor next to the torn Magnum wrappers.”

“Sorry to tell you, Sherlock, your deductive powers are for shit! We went out last night and had a great time. Ty had a couple too many, so he and I went to sleep soon after we returned home. Didn’t even get to play around, although he claimed he was horny. We left CJ down here with Orlando, but before I could fall asleep they were upstairs, our little cousin fucking the fuck out of our bodybuilder plumber.”

“He what?” Rod sprayed coffee all over the kitchen counter, still sputtering he started laughing. “CJ fucked that mass of muscles? Damn!”

“Jeez, Rod. Keep it down, will ya? Anyway, Ty was snoring so loud it woke me up. I left our room planning on coming down to crash on the couch but decided to peek into the guest room first. CJ was sleeping alone. Orlando must have left after they did the deed. I figured what the hell and crawled into bed with our cousin. Nothing happened between us, and the morning wood was just morning wood.”

“Well waddayaknow? Chicago did turn out to be CJ’s lucky town.”

“Based on the screaming I heard last night, Orlando was the lucky one. I think our cousin’s a natural. Betcha our musclebound plumber’s walking a tad funny this morning.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Let me quote some of what I heard last night: ‘Oh god, CJ. You’re huge.’ And of course, there was: ‘Harder, CJ. Fuck me harder.’ I went to sleep listening to those words, my dear brother.”

“Fuck me!”

“Can I at least have a cup of coffee first? And aren’t you supposed to be straight?” CJ’s voice startled the two brothers as he walked into the kitchen. “Did one of you get in bed with me this morning? I could have sworn I felt someone under the covers.”

“I did,” said Randy as he took another mug from the cupboard and slid it to his cousin. “Ty woke me up with his snoring. Since your company had already limped out, I decided to bunk in with you. Hope you don’t mind.”

“Nah, it’s cool. And what do you mean limped out? Orlando seemed fine when we walked back from the bar last night.”

“Oh, I’m sure he was fine then. Until you jumped his bones, he started yelling how huge you were, and kept asking you to screw him harder.” Randy’s grin showed how much he was enjoying giving CJ a hard time.

“Fuck! You heard?” CJ put his hands up to his face, trying to cover up the blushing Rod knew went along with a warming of his cheeks.

“I think the entire neighborhood heard it, cuz. You rocked the stud’s world. Way to go!”

 

CJ had flown to Chicago for the weekend, Doc was gone to New York, Dragon & King were in Montreal, and Potus’ kids were in D.C., but he and Pope were out on the PP with the boys. With the Eight scattered all over the place, Brett and César were left to enjoy the weekend by themselves. However, the first two nights they spent alone in Georgetown in almost five months left both men somewhat subdued. Friday after work they’d ordered pizza, changed into boxers and t-shirts, and watched a movie on TV before going to sleep early. Saturday, they rode the Harleys into the Maryland countryside south of D.C. and had lunch at a country diner somewhere near Port Tobacco―with a population of under twenty, the smallest incorporated town in the state. Back home, they spent time cleaning the bikes, before having dinner at The Tombs by themselves.

“Daddy, I’m bored,” whined Brett in his best impersonation of a young boy. He and César were drinking their umpteenth cup of coffee, working their way through the Sunday Washington Post and The New York Times.

“This is pathetic, you know?” César took off his reading glasses, placed them on the coffee table, and scooted over on the sofa until he was right up against his husband. “First weekend we’ve been alone in almost six months and we can’t find the motivation to do anything. The damn kid has messed up our lives!”

“Is that your way of saying you miss him as much as I do?”

“Fuck! Can you believe this shit? I’ve thought of a million things we could do, but then I realize I’d rather wait until CJ’s around so he can do them with us.”

“Maybe we should call him and―”

“Not on your life, Jarhead. We know where he is, we know who he’s with, and we’re not going to turn into obnoxious fathers. We have a smart kid we know we can trust. The last thing we need to do is call to check up on him.”

“It wouldn’t be checking on―”

“Nope. It ain’t happening. Look, let’s clean up, get dressed, and walk somewhere for a bite to eat. I’ll let you play with my man bits while we shower…”

“You’re a dirty old man, César Abelló!”

“Yes, I am. Come on. You can scrub me down until I’m not so dirty anymore.”

 

Rodney Abelló was a junior at Northwestern University studying Civil Engineering; his brother was in the same class year, studying architecture at the University of Illinois-Chicago. Both young men had chosen to stay at home in the Windy City to study, so they could be near each other, and so they could remain involved in Second Line Design, the family business specializing in high-end renovations and restoration―primarily of historic structures.

The brothers were delighted their young cousin’s interest dovetailed with theirs, and planned their day of sightseeing accordingly. The Chicago Architecture Foundation’s River Tour was their choice for his introduction to Chicago―The Home of the Skyscraper.

The day dawned chilly, with temperatures not expected to climb much higher than the upper fifties. CJ wore a black Harley-Davidson t-shirt with a motorcycle on an American flag graphic in front, a borrowed flannel shirt, and his new down vest. Tyler lent him a knit beanie to help keep him warm as the four men walked towards North Halsted Street and the Chicago Diner. The vegetarian/vegan restaurant had been around for years and was a favorite with the locals. The twins and Tyler were greeted by several of the patrons. They introduced CJ to their acquaintances, before slipping into one of the booths running along the right side of the narrow space.

“Sorry about last night, CJ. I rarely drink more than a couple of beers but the damn drag queen kept sending shots of tequila over to our table.” Tyler's head shaking was almost imperceptible, he’d already complained of a hangover and taken ibuprofen after the shower. Apparently, they had not kicked in yet.

“Bullshit, Ty!” Randy wasn’t being gentle, his boyfriend visibly winced at the volume of the reply right next to his ear. “Clo sent over exactly two rounds of shots. You didn’t have to drink yours, Orlando’s, and CJ’s. I enjoyed my two and feel fine this morning.”

“Why are you being mean to me? I thought you loved me!”

Sitting across from them in the booth, Rod and CJ could barely control their laughter. “The two of you are like an old married couple, you know?” CJ’s comment was probably a mistake, it switched the attention to him.

“So, cuz. Without graphic details, wanna tell me what happened last night?” Rod kept his eyes aimed at his plate of food, but his brother noticed a small smirk on his face.

“Nothing much to tell. I had a great time at the show. Later, Orlando helped me further my education by sharing a bit of what he knows of pipes and plumbing.” The twins laughed so loud other patrons turned to look; Tyler even smiled while wincing in apparent discomfort.

“Damn! I’m not sure I can handle three Abellós at the same time this early in the morning. You guys are just too damn perky.”

“Suck it up, buddy. Betcha next time you’ll think twice before chugging so much tequila,” CJ turned towards Rod. “Did I hear you say you broke up with your girl? Didn’t you say you’d been dating for almost six months? What happened?”

“The bitch found out my brother and my visiting cousin are gay and she got all Evangelical Christian on me. Told her to go fuck herself with her crucifix.”

Randy’s eyebrows shot up and his eyes opened up wide. “Ouch! No, you didn’t. That’s just plain hateful of you, Rod.”

“Hell yeah. But I don’t even know if she has a crucifix!”

“Asshole!” CJ was somewhat confused by the girl’s reaction. “How could she not know you have a gay brother? She hadn’t met Randy before?”

“Hey! What’s that supposed to mean?” asked Randy with an indignant tone in his voice. “Are you implying I’m a flamer and people can tell I’m gay when they meet me?”

“Yes you are and yes she had,” replied Rod. “But the one time she was at his place. Tyler was out of town so she assumed Natasha was Randy’s girlfriend. I mean, he’s my brother, he’s not my gay brother. It just never came up. When I mentioned you were in town, and Randy and his boyfriend were taking you out in Boystown, the shit hit the fan.”

“Ooops. Sorry, cuz.”

“Don’t be. Look at the bright side. I don’t have to spend the money to fly her down to Miami for Thanksgiving.”

After breakfast, they walked south on North Halsted Street―the guys pointing out bars and landmarks along the way―until they reached West Belmont Avenue. There they turned west, heading for the Chicago Transit Authority’s L station. The CTA’s red line took them to within a few blocks of the embarkation point for the tour aboard Chicago’s First Lady.

The view from the Chicago River was outstanding, over fifty significant structures could be easily seen from the boat, and CJ snapped pictures to his heart’s content. One he was particularly fond of was a shot of the Sears Tower framed by two modern structures, but with an old river tender tower in the foreground. It was the cover image on his Facebook page for the next couple of months. His cousins explained the structure was now known as the Willis Tower but most Chicagoans still referred to it by its original moniker.

Following the ninety-minute tour, the four men walked to the Water Tower on Michigan Avenue. Built to house a large water pump, it was one of the few buildings to survive the Great Chicago Fire and currently housed an Office of Tourism art gallery showcasing the work of local artists. Their next stop was the John Hancock Center and the restaurant on the ninety-fifth floor.

Lunch was about both the view and the food. The Signature Room offered outstanding vistas of the Lake, Navy Pier, and the rest of Chicago; the food was upscale and worth every cent they charged.

 

“Damn! What are you doing up?” Dragon’s eyes were slits as he squinted in the bright sunshine streaming into the hotel room. “What time is it anyway?” He sat up slightly, brought his forearm up in front of his face, and stared at his boyfriend. “Feels as if I just went to sleep.”

‘I’m packing and it’s 9:00 a.m.”

“Fuck! Come back to bed. Packing? What are you talking about? We have a party tonight and we don’t fly home until tomorrow.”

“You fly home tomorrow. My flight leaves at two this afternoon.”

“WHAT?”

“I said, my flight―”

“I heard what you said, I just don’t understand it. When did you change the flight and why are you flying home alone?”

“Changed it a couple of hours ago and I’m going home alone because I need to do some thinking away from you.”

“What the fuck does that mean?”

“Are you bloody daft, Devon? You keep asking me questions that force me to repeat myself. It means I need time away from you to figure some things out.”

“Does this have anything to do with why you were in such a bad mood last night?”

“I was not in a bad mood. I was sore, tired, and sober. Unlike you, I didn’t need to pop two sleeping pills to get some rest. Not that I had any, anyway.”

“What do you mean sober?”

“Fuck! Again? Sober means there were no drugs or alcohol left in my system.”

“You mean you didn’t take your hits of X? What did you do with them?”

“What is this, twenty questions? Is that what you’re concerned with? What happened with the drugs? Aren’t you wondering why I didn’t take the damn pills? The bloody drugs I didn’t take are on the nightstand. You can stop worrying.”

“Jesus! What’s gotten into you?”

“What’s gotten into me is a bunch of strange cocks and a nice deposit of semen by the last guy who didn’t bother to wear a condom!”

“WHAT?”

“That’s it, man. No more stupid questions. Yes. I said stupid. The one you should have asked you haven’t even thought of. That would have been why am I doing all this. I’ll save you the effort. I’m leaving early and going home alone because I can’t deal with what happened at the sauna. You broke our rules. You were supposed to look after me and you didn’t. When I asked to come back to the hotel you said just one more. You thought the guy was hot. It turned into three more. You were so bloody concerned with having a good time yourself, you forgot about taking care of me.”

“But you wanted to go to the sauna. And you’re a bottom so I thought you’d enjoy it. I’m sorry about the guy not wearing a condom. I screwed up. But you should be okay. The meds―”

“Devon, shut up before you say anything else to piss me off. I was so damn high when we decided to go out, I was barely aware of what I was doing. That’s why I didn’t take the extra pills. I plain forgot. The meds are good but not failsafe. And HIV’s not the only thing to worry about. Doesn’t matter what I may have said at the time, it was your bloody responsibility to look after me and protect me.” King's tone of voice left no doubt he was furious with his boyfriend. “I’m a fucking attorney at one of the best bloody law firms in the country, yet you turned me into a fucking cumdump. All you cared about was your pleasure and that of the other guys. Not acceptable, Mr. Jefferson. Not acceptable at all!”

“Okay. Give me a chance to shower so I can finish waking up. I’ll call the airline and change my flight. We can go home and figure this out.”

“No. Right now I can’t think rationally. I need a little time to calm down. I’m going home alone. You stay, have fun tonight, and we’ll talk when you get back to Washington.”

 

Instead of retracing their steps towards the dock of the First Lady, the guys took a cab to head back south and asked to be dropped off at Millennium Station. There they jumped on the Metra Electric line riding it to the 55th-56th-57th Station, a short walk away from the Museum of Science and Industry.

“Go for it, Ty. You’re up first,” said Randy, affectionately slapping his boyfriend on his behind.

“What do you mean he’s up first?” asked CJ.

“We played rock-paper-scissors while you were in the bathroom. Winner got to pick what he wanted to describe for you. Ty won and he picked the building itself,” replied Rod.

“What about the two of you?”

“Don’t worry about them, CJ. I got the best part!” Ty put his arm around the young man guiding him to walk a few steps ahead of the twins. “The building the museum is in was built as the Palace of Fine Arts for the 1893 World's Columbian Exposition. Unlike many other Chicago structures, it was originally plaster-clad brick. In the 1920s it was reconstructed in stone.”

“Ty, did you like memorize all this shit for class or something?” asked CJ tongue-in-cheek.

“Or something. Shut up and remember historic renovations are my business. The exterior’s an exact copy of the original Beaux-Arts design, but the interior was remodeled in the Art Moderne style. Since its initial construction, the building has always housed a museum.”

“Cool. If I end up studying architecture the different styles I’m sure will become clearer. Right now I can recognize a few, but some get mixed up in my head.”

“It’ll become an automatic response, cuz.” Rod took over as tour guide. “The museum has over 2,000 exhibits, displayed in seventy-five major halls. We picked five we thought you might enjoy.”

“The submarine better be one, I read a blurb on it on the flight.”

“Funny you should mention the U-boat. That’s our first stop, and I’m your designated instructor.” Rod chuckled as they moved towards the U-505 Exhibit.

“Let’s hear it, prof.”

“The U-505 was captured off the coast of West Africa in 1944. One crew member died but all others were captured, taken prisoner, and kept isolated until the end of the war so the Nazis wouldn’t find out the Americans had captured one of their subs. The boat was towed to Bermuda. The Navy extracted as much knowledge as they could from it. In 1948, they decided they no longer needed it and planned to use it for target practice.”

“Guess that didn’t go as planned.”

“Got that right, cuz. Anyway, they agreed to donate it to the museum, which had to raise a bunch of money to have it towed to Chicago and moved from the lake to the exhibit grounds. It opened in 1954 to the public.”

CJ stared at the gleaming vessel. “It’s in pretty good shape. Has it been restored?”

“Hell yeah,” replied Rod. “For the first fifty years in Chicago, the exhibit was outdoors. It got so rusted it wasn’t safe for visitors to enter it. So once again there was a lot of money raised, a new indoor exhibit constructed, and voilá!”

“Wow, talk about claustrophobic,” commented CJ when he got a look inside. “They must have recruited real short guys as sailors to serve on these things. Orlando would have been a natural.”

“Oh, just wait until he hears you slammed him because of his height,” said Ty taking out his phone, acting ready to text their friend.

“Shut up, Ty. I don’t have a problem with his height!”

“Is that ‘cause you kept him in a horizontal position all night?” Randy took a step back to avoid the elbow his younger cousin aimed at him. “Guys, we’re running out of time. If we’re late for dinner, Mom will be pissed. Cuz, pick one, the model train, the coal mine, or the Apollo 8 capsule?

“Train.”

“Not interested in the Apollo 8 capsule?” asked Randy.

“Cuz, remember where I live? The Smithsonian Air & Space Museum is one of my favorite hangouts.”

“Oh, yeah, right. Okay, then. The Great Train Story has more than twenty trains running on over a thousand feet of track.” Randy spoke as they walked around the intricate display. “It represents the journey from Chicago to Seattle showing the landscape between the two cities.” They had stopped at the railing on the second floor to look down at the exhibit. “So, what do you think?”

“I’ve never had a model train. I think Santa better get his fat ass in gear because I know what I want for Christmas.”

 

“Well, I’ll be damned. Matt Calhoun just walked into my joint!”

“Hi, Tony,” said Doc, shaking the hand extended to him by the man behind the bar. “It’s been a while.”

“Yes it has,” replied Tony Martellini, the dark-haired proprietor of PRIME―one of the top watering holes in Chelsea. “Where’s Chip?”

“Tampa last I heard. We went different ways at the beginning of summer. He was cheating on me with a Georgetown grad student. Guess I got too old for him.”

“Oh man, sorry. That sucks. What can I get you and Sean?”

“You guys know each other?” asked Doc somewhat surprised looking between his two friends.

“Everyone in Chelsea knows Sean. The man is popular.”

“Hi, Tony. For the record: Doc’s a friend, not a client. We met over Pride weekend in Washington. My younger brother was the student his ex was cheating on him with.”

“Damn gay men and our one and a half degrees of separation. It’s good to see you both. Let me get you a couple of beers and I’ll be back in a bit to chat. We are featuring a few brews from Sixpoints Brewery in Brooklyn this month. This round’s on the house, let me know what you think.”

“So what’s the deal, Doc?” asked Sean as he leaned his ass against the bar stool, not entirely sitting on it. “What did the kids want?”

“You may want to sit properly so you don’t fall off your stool, Bubba. Chipper wants to move to Washington to live with me.”

“Oh, man! Daddy Doc’s gonna be a daddy. You said he’s fifteen? At least he’s housebroken, no need to deal with diapers.”

“Almost sixteen, his birthday’s next month. But it ain’t a done deal yet.” Doc took a sip from his beer and smiled. Sean’s comment struck him as funny―housebroken indeed. “Their mother, who I had dinner with last night, reluctantly approves. Although the kids told me she refused at first and had to work on convincing her. She’s moving to Argentina and the kids want to stay in the US. His sister Cristina is a freshman at NYU so she’s set. Chipper refuses to even talk to his father ‘cause of what happened between us. So it’s between me and boarding school. The kid knows he’ll be spending most of his summer vacation in South America, at least until he turns eighteen, and he says he’s okay with that.”

“So he wouldn’t want to move to Tampa. What’s the father have to say?”

“A move to Tampa’s not an option he’ll even consider. As for what Chip has to say: no idea. We know he ain’t the type to settle down. He’s proven it fairly well.” Doc inadvertently allowed a note of rancor to color his words. “Having a teenager at home would interfere with his chasing college guys. Hell, your brother ain’t that much older than Chipper. How’s he doing, by the way?”

“I guess he’s okay. I haven't forgiven him entirely, and have barely spoken to him since the summer.”

“Don’t be too harsh on him, Bubba. He’s young and he was thinking with his dick. Chip’s the one who should have known better. Anyway, the ex-wife told me she’ll handle Chip. Susana Pereira’s tough, I wouldn’t want her pissed at me!”

 

“I wasn’t sure how adventurous you were in your eating. I kept it simple while still trying to give you a little taste of the food I ate growing up in a Polish home in Chicago. We have beetroot soup, potato pancakes with fresh sour cream from Polska Deli, and beef stew using my mother’s recipe.”

“It looks and smells delicious, Auntie Lynne.” CJ closed his eyes for a moment and inhaled deeply, smiling at the aromas wafting from the food on the table. “Remember, I’m fifteen. If you place it in front of me, I’ll eat it.” The twins, Tyler, and CJ had showered and changed after returning from sightseeing. They were all wearing t-shirts, jeans, and socks but no shoes as they sat down to dinner.

“Speaking of my dear grandmother, how come you didn’t invite her for dinner tonight?” asked Randy.

“Randall Abelló, don’t start.” Rico’s voice was stern as he spoke to his son. “We have company.”

“Fuck you, Dad. We don’t have company. Ty and CJ are both family. I want my young cousin to realize what his asshole step-father put him through isn’t so much different from what my own loving grandmother did to me. Or to your brother when she met him!”

“ENOUGH!” Lynne’s shout was accompanied by her hand slapping the table. “I want this to be a pleasant meal. You will leave my mother out of the conversation. You damn Cubans and your temper.”

“Sorry, mom, but―”

“I said enough, Randy. Please forgive my husband and son, CJ. They have a defective filter between their brains and their mouths. Often it’s not what they say as how they say it. I hate to admit it, but Randy’s correct in his comment about his grandmother. My parents haven’t dealt well with having a gay grandson.”

“Hah, understatement of the year.”

Rod elbowed his brother. “Shut up, bro. Let Mom speak.”

“What you went through, same as what Randy’s had to deal with, isn’t acceptable in any way,” continued Lynne. “My son does like to push buttons though, and his insistence on Ty and Tash being here every time my parents come over is not helpful. And they don’t do so more than once or twice a year.”

“Would you leave dad at home if your grandparents disapproved of him? Grandma and Grandpa Abelló don’t have the same issues.” Randy was not letting go of the discussion. Ty had placed a hand on his forearm, an apparent move to calm him down, but the gesture was ignored.

“Shut up, bro. Plus, not fair. They had already dealt with Uncle César years before. They also were never fanatical Catholics like our Polish family.”

“If you all would be so kind as to allow me to finish my thoughts. I hate to quote jingles but it does get better, CJ.” Lynne smiled at her nephew. “There will never be a complete end to homophobia, as there will never be a complete end to racism, but it does get better. Whereas my parents’ generation has been less accepting of differences, mine has a much different attitude. Maybe we still have some doubts, concerns, worries, or whatever, but in the end, Randy’s my son. His sexual orientation has never interfered with my love for him.

“Your age group, and I am lumping the four of you together, hasn’t so much accepted differences as you have embraced them. I think Rod has more gay friends than his gay brother does. That’s the way it should be, that’s the way it will be. We are getting there. Slowly but surely, we are getting there. End of subject discussion. Tell me, have you enjoyed your first visit to Chicago?”

 

“Go in, guys,” said JP, holding the door open.

“Hey! I recognize this place.” Bradley stopped abruptly just inside the entrance, causing his younger brother to run into him.

“Move it, dickhead.” Paddy shoved his brother aside so he could walk into the place. “Duh! Of course you recognize it. This is where Dad got married. That bar on the left is where the two cakes were. I remember from the picture CJ sent us.”

For the second week in a row, there was a birthday celebration at Rogo’s: JP’s thirty-second. Dragon’s twenty-seventh had been on Monday and the gang had gathered the previous week for dinner. The crowd would be smaller since most of the Elite were traveling.

“Happy birthday, Pope!” shouted Danno, walking towards them drying his hands on a bar towel. “Stay there, guys. There’s eight of us tonight, we’ll use the table right by the window.”

“Thanks, Danno. Brett just texted me, he and César are on the way,” said JP, hugging his friend.

“Hi, bud.” Tom gave the barkeep a bro hug in greeting. “These are my sons, Bradley and Patrick. Boys, Danno owns this place.”

“You’re the one with the long, weird name, right?” asked Paddy shaking the man’s hand.

“Fuck! We can’t take you anywhere, Paddy. Please forgive my brother, he can’t help being a dork. Nice to meet you, sir.” Bradley was shaking his head, staring at his brother, before returning his gaze to the bar owner’s face.

“It’s cool. Yeah, my real name’s a mouthful, little dude. Tell you what though, I’m either Uncle Danno or just plain Danno. None of that sir stuff.”

“Sorry, Uncle Danno. Anyway, I thought your name was cool when CJ told us what it was.” Paddy appeared to quickly warm up to the stranger he’d just met. “This is kinda cool. One trip to Washington and we get all these new uncles. I can’t wait to meet CJ’s dads.”

“You mean us?” Brett had placed his hands on JP’s shoulders and was pulling his friend back towards him. “Happy birthday, old friend.”

“Bloody hell, stop feeling me up, Jarhead. And don’t give me any old friend crap, I’m only two years older.”

“Behave, children. Hi, Patrick. Bradley. I’m César, CJ’s other dad. And I meant my husband and JP when I mentioned children. Not you!”

“Ohhh, you guys are all so cool.” Paddy was looking around the circle of adults, wonderment on his face. “I wish our uncles in Boston were like you.”

“You may change your mind once you get to know them better,” said Trip as he joined the group.

“Trip!” came from several voices at the same time.

“Hi, guys. Kids, I’m the real cool uncle in the crowd. I’m Trip.”

 

“That was… interesting,” said Ty flopping down on the couch. “Really, Randy, you shouldn’t pick fights with your mom. The woman can’t help the way your grandmother is.”

“Then she shouldn’t bring the old bitch up!” Randy’s tone left no doubt he was still heated up about the dinner conversation. “It’s not you guys who are considered less than human because you’re gay.”

“Bro, Grandma’s made her feelings about Ty well known, so he’s in the same boat you’re in. I refuse to visit her ‘cause of the way she treats you. Dad rarely speaks with her, and Mom only does so because she thinks the old woman will one day change. What else do you want?”

“I want her, CJ’s step-father, and everyone else like them to drop dead. That would make the world a whole better place. Sorry, cuz. My tolerance for assholes is non-existent.”

“It’s cool. I may have never used the same words as you, but my feelings aren’t too different.”

“Okay, change of topic.” Rod had finished rolling a joint, given it to Tyler to light, and was in the process of putting another one together. “Ty has to work tomorrow, so it’s the Abelló boys only when we go play. Frank Lloyd Wright house?”

“You mean a tour of his home in Chicago?” CJ had taken a couple of small hits from the spliff as he’d been taught, to avoid coughing. “Fuck yeah! Too bad you have to work Ty.”

“Somebody has to keep Second Line running until these two bozos come work full-time.” The muscular young man snuggled into his partner’s body as he looked at CJ with a mischievous smile on his face. “Unfortunately it means Orlando also has to work, so you won’t get to see him again before you leave. Unless you want us to invite him over to spend the night?”

“Ummm. Well…” CJ turned crimson and kept looking back and forth between the three older guys.

“It’s cool if you want to, cuz,” said Rod. “Mom and Dad don’t have to know anything’s going on. He can come in through the outside entrance and he’ll be gone early in the morning. Hell, he can drive Ty to work, saving us from having to make the trip.”

“Yeah, CJ,” added Randy. “He texted before hoping he could see you. I think you really made the earth move for the kid. He’s calling you Ramrod!”