Travels - 12. American Land

Sunday, 17 August 2014

The sun had risen a couple of hours before CJ stirred from his sleep and climbed the stairs to the kitchen. He found his fathers nursing steaming mugs, paging through the Washington Post spread over the kitchen breakfast counter.

“Morning.” He noticed the two men were wearing shorts and shirts instead of their usual morning attire of boxers. “How come you’re all dressed?”

“We have company. Or did you fail to see the guy passed out in the basement as you came up?” César adjusted his reading glasses as he asked the question. “We noticed your bed wasn’t slept in on the way down, so we peeked downstairs. How late were you boys up?”

“Not sure, but Brad’s the only one who passed out on the couch. Harley, Thiago, Chipper, and I all made it to our beds.” CJ poured himself a cup of coffee and walked over to where his dads sat. “Harley broke out the brownies while we were in the middle of a South Park marathon and after that, I don’t remember a lot of the details. I do know Owen and Patrick walked back to their place, but Brad claimed he was too gone to move.”

“What do you mean too gone?” César removed his spectacles and glanced at CJ with a questioning look.

“Ummm, Owen brought over a couple of wine bottles and so did Chipper. Brad drank the most but I think it was the brownies that did him in.”

“And why would that be?” The questioning tone was still there but was now joined by a furrowed brow.

“Ummm, they were kinda special loaded brownies… Harley's grandfather baked them and sent them home with him. He can’t eat them at his house ’cause his mother doesn’t want his sisters around him when he does.”

“Any brownies left?” Brett’s face lit up, and he wiggled his eyebrows.

“JARHEAD!”

“What? Just asking…”

“Right, you’re just asking. It ain’t gonna happen today, but tomorrow night we’re having a conversation concerning marijuana use in this house. I’ve put it off since the night at the concert, but I think we need some ground rules.”

“Whatever…” Brett winked at his son. They both knew they were in for a lecture sooner than later. “Okay, those two left and I’ll assume Brad will follow them whenever he wakes up. And the rest of your posse?”

“Thiago’s here the whole day. We got his dressy clothes yesterday and he’ll go home with the ’rents after the party. Chipper has to hit the condo at some point so he can change. And I need to take Harley to his house to pick up his clothes. All he brought over were gym shorts.”

“And brownies.” César did not sound pleased with that event. “We’re putting you guys to work after breakfast. And we’ll take whoever’s still here at lunchtime to The Tombs. You need to finish hanging the pictures you had framed this week. And I want the house to be spotless by the time the caterers get here to set up.”

“When are we expecting them, Dad?”

“Around one. Let’s talk about what we’d like you to do tonight, okay?”

“Wadda you mean do?” CJ wasn’t entirely awake but the prospects of having to do more than meet a bunch of strangers and be polite worked better than the caffeine. It was something he hadn't counted on. “I have to do something tonight?”

“Hell yeah.” Brett rubbed his hands together and chuckled. “You were a big part of our wedding. JP and Tom agree with us you should be involved again.”

“Okay, I guess.” CJ resigned himself to his fate, whatever it might be. “What do you want me to do?”

“We want you to circulate and greet everybody. There’ll be guests you’ve never met, including some of César’s partners. And of course, there’ll be a bunch of politicos around.”

“Why are you guys doing a political thing on your anniversary? Have you done this kind of fundraiser before?”

“We’ve attended them, but this is the first one we've hosted. And we’re doing it for a bunch of reasons.” César walked over to the coffeemaker and poured himself a refill, then carried the carafe to where his husband and son sat. “First’s the fact we had such a small gathering for the ceremony last August. Lots of complaints about that. We’ve invited everyone who was there and a lot of the friends and acquaintances who grumbled we didn’t include them in our plans.”

“Okay, that makes sense. It’ll be good to see Chatri and Helen. Haven’t talked to them in a while.”

“We’ve always supported Jack Evans in his runs for the city council, and he approached us with the suggestion of doing this. He ran in the primaries and lost so he’s supporting Muriel Bowser in the election.”

“Is this Evans guy on the city council? Did you guys vote for him in the primary?”

“He’s represented Ward Two for ages, but we weren’t able to vote for him in March.” César gingerly sipped from his mug after blowing on the contents. “In D.C. primaries are closed. That means you have to―”

“I know what it means, Dad.” He rolled his eyes and smirked; no matter how much he proved he wasn’t a little kid, sometimes his fathers wanted to chew everything for him before feeding him. “Why wouldn’t you be able to vote for him? Is he a Republican or something?”

“The opposite,” Brett replied. “He’s a Democrat and since neither your father nor I are―”

“What? You guys aren’t registered Democrats? What the fuck?” CJ was often amazed at some of the things he discovered concerning his parents by accident. He’d lived with them for over a year, yet they still managed to surprise him regularly.

“Hey! Watch the language. We can’t have you dropping F-bombs tonight. This is gonna be a classy event, not a bunch of stoned high schoolers!”

“Har, har, har, Papa. You better remember it yourself. I learned all my cussing from you. And for the record, neither Owen nor Patrick tasted the brownies… Crap, I guess that does mean it was a bunch of high-schoolers. Okay, whatever.”

“Children! Behave!” This wasn’t the first time César referred to his husband and his son as children. They seemed to have an affinity for foolishness whenever he was trying to be serious. “CJ, I’ve always been registered as an independent. I voted for Obama twice but in the past have voted for Republican candidates. I try to pick the best person for the job.”

“But, but how can you? Republicans hate gays.”

“Wrong!” Brett exclaimed. “I’m a registered Republican and I don’t hate gays.”

“You are?” The revelation caught CJ by complete surprise; he jerked backward so fast he almost dropped his mug. “But… but…”

“Look, CJ, my parents and grandparents were all Republicans. Dad was a hell of a lot more conservative than Grandpa, but in the end, they were the type of California Republicans who tend to be social liberals but conservative in other aspects. I followed along and have never bothered to change my registration. My votes have admittedly favored military men. I voted for John Kerry and for John McCain, but I did vote for Obama in the last election.”

“How come I never knew this?”

“Because I kept my politics quiet while on active duty. With my separation from service, and now starting up a business that will require governmental approvals, I need to have friends in City Hall. Stop frowning, it doesn’t mean we’re using money to curry favor. But if someone knows who I am ahead of submitting plans for approval, it can be easier to get the damn stamp. We’re certain this won’t be the last time we host one of these shindigs.”

“And you, Dad? Is there a business reason for an accountant to need influence with elected officials?” Sarcasm was something CJ had become adept at using. He had to, living with his dads who were quite skillful at it.

“Believe it or not, there are a few. I’ll give you one: KPMG audits the City of Washington. Next time they send out requests for proposals, you can bet César M. Abelló will be listed near the top of the personnel involved when EY submits ours. If the mayor is someone I supported, that is.”

“Fine, but I’m pretty sure I’ll be registering as a Democrat the day I turn eighteen. What do you want me to do tonight?”

“Mingle with the guests, don’t hide downstairs with your buddies, escort people around if they want to look at the house or the artwork, and give a toast at the end.” César’s instructions were met with approval by Brett who nodded in assent.

“I can do all of it. But I’m not happy. I expect you to become real Americans and register as Democrats sometime soon.”

“Asshole…”

The youngsters helped pick up the house so every room was as close to picture-perfect as possible. They hung paper lanterns―this being a first wedding anniversary party―inside and outside. CJ drove Harley to his house so he could pick up the clothes he’d forgotten the previous day and returned with a present for his dads. His buddy’s parents thought it would be easier than carrying it with them in a taxi cab. The florists had come and gone. Chipper had walked to his place and returned carrying a garment bag; he’d decided he didn’t want to wait for Doc and returned to the Prospect Street house to shower and change. The caterers had arrived, unloaded their van, and staged serving platters around the house while César and Brett had gone upstairs to get themselves ready.

“Hey, Chipper, text Brad and tell him to get his butt over here and to bring the other two. We have some time before the party’s supposed to start and this is our last chance to hang out together until after. The ’rents want me to mingle with the guests so all of you have to do it too. I don’t want to be the only one suffering.” CJ had joined his three friends getting ready in the basement and was now rummaging through a drawer in the wall unit. “Harley, Thiago, make sure you hide your bags and stuff. You can use the closet in the bigger room.”

“Have you been training with your dad?” Chipper stood, staring at CJ with his arms crossed and a smirk on his face. “You’re sounding like one of those drill sergeants in the movies.”

“Asshole… Make yourself useful. Throw the towels you guys used in the hamper if they’re still laying around. Ahhh, here it is.”

“What you looking for, bruh?” Harley fell into one of the overstuffed leather recliners and raised the footrest.

“I went to a concert back in December when we were in Sydney. It’s one of the best shows I’ve ever been to and I bought a DVD for it. I remembered it when I was picking out tunes to play down here during the party―since they’re having boring background stuff on upstairs. I loaded the CDs I got in Australia in the computer a long time ago. I’ve listened to the music, but I haven’t seen this. I thought it’d be cool to chill and watch it until we have to go upstairs. Here we go… Okay, all set. Anybody want anything to drink?”

“I already got a Mountain Dew from the fridge down here.” Harley raised the can he’d placed on the floor next to his chair.

“Sucks we’re not allowed to drink because we’re underage and there’s going to be politicians around. I wouldn’t mind a glass of vino.” Chipper wasn’t a big drinker but he enjoyed his wine.

“Nothing for me. But are there any brownies left?” Thiago asked.

“Yeah, a few. But the dads confiscated them and won’t give them back until after the party. Chipper, did Brad text you back?”

“Yes, I did. And here we are.” Four sets of eyes turned towards the stairs upon hearing Bradley’s voice.

CJ smiled seeing the two Kennedy brothers as dressed up as he’d ever seen them. The six high-schoolers and Owen all wore variations of dress slacks, shirts, and sports coats―none had a necktie on.

“Hey, guys, you look good. Dad mentioned there’ll be a photographer here tonight. I want a picture of the seven of us all dressed up. It’ll look real good on the family gallery.” CJ pointed towards the wall enclosing the stairs; he’d hung the pictures his dad had mentioned on it. “Owen, get your butt over here. I think you’re going to like this.”

“Hi.” Owen waved at the four teens before his eyes glanced at the screen and his face lit up with a broad grin. “Tyson Hill?”

“Yep,” CJ patted the spot next to him on the couch, inviting the Aussie to join him. “Remember I bought this at the concert? I haven’t played it before today.”

“I think I heard you play his music before. Maybe I’ll try and do a cover of one of them.” Chipper was the musician in the group, although Thiago had by far the best singing voice. “He’s the gay guy, right?”

“Yeah, he’s like Australia’s biggest male star. He’s awesome.” The man sounded proud of his fellow Aussie. “And his being gay didn’t affect his fame. After he came out there was a little bit of backlash but in the end, his popularity soared.”

“Really?” Patrick sounded both surprised and doubtful. “People didn’t mind he was gay?”

“Not the majority of them. There’ll always be some homophobic jerks, but this is the twenty-first century, mate. Most people don’t give a shit. CJ’s been convincing me of that.”

“CJ?” a woman’s voice asked from the top of the stairs. “Are you down here?”

“Damn, they’re early,” CJ whispered before raising his voice while standing. “Mrs. Edwards? Yes, we’re down here.”

“Hey, Miss Edwards,” Harley chimed in. “You’re early.”

“Well, well.” The school principal glanced at the gathered teens once she’d reached the bottom of the stairs. “A room full of WALLS students.” She looked around the room smiling, focusing on each of her students for a moment until her eyes settled on Owen. “Except for you, who I have not met. You look a little older than my boys anyway. Oh, and we’re not early, Mr. Wilkinson. We’re exactly on time. Being fashionably late isn’t something a marine tolerates. And since I’m here with my husband, it means we arrived at the exact time the party was called for.”

“Owen, this is our school principal. Mrs. Edwards, this is Owen Zachary Liston―”

“Zachary? That’s your middle name? So we can just call you Oh Zee?” Harley’s head swiveled towards the tall Australian before looking at CJ. “That’s sooo cool, Cee Jay and Oh Zee.”

“Ozzie the Aussie!” Bradley’s hand smacked Owen on the back hard enough to jostle the man.

Mrs. Edwards gave both her students a withering stare. “Thank you for the interruption, Mr. Wilkinson. I see some things don’t change. Mr. Kennedy, I expect this isn’t an example of how you’ll behave once you start at our school. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Liston. Welcome to the United States. I assume you’re the Australian friend I’ve heard of?”

“I guess I am. G’day, Mrs. Edwards. It’s a pleasure to meet you too.” Owen extended his hand which Martha grasped firmly and shook. “I’m most definitely not one of your students. I’ll be starting Law School at George Mason next week.”

“Mrs. Edwards, are you and the colonel the first ones here?” CJ asked.

“We were. But there were some other people getting out of a car as we walked in the front door. Who’s the performer?” She pointed at the giant screen where Tyson Hill―wearing tight leather pants and an open shirt displaying his chest―was belting out one of his many hits.

“Tyson Hill.” Owen’s reply was quick and enthusiastic. “He’s an Australian singer CJ and I saw in concert in Sydney when he and his fathers were there on holiday.”

“This looks very nice. I remember your parents saying it was unfinished when we were here for the first time.” After glancing around the play area in the back, she stood in front of the frames CJ had hung earlier in the day. “This is a wonderful picture of you and your fathers, CJ. Were you on a street here in Washington? I don’t recognize the surroundings.”

“Yes, ma’am, our friend Trip took it during Capital Pride right after I moved to D.C. That’s on one of the side streets near Dupont Circle.”

“Trip? I seem to recall hearing the name before.”

“He’s the reporter who was at the press conference last year.”

“Ah, yes, I remember him now. Interesting choice of pictures. I recognize Jennifer López. You and your fathers look very handsome in black tie.”

CJ blushed at the compliment. He always felt funny if adults praised his looks or anything he did or said. “That was last year during the Human Rights Campaign National Dinner. It was my first time ever wearing a tux.”

“I recall when this one was taken with Ben Cohen and Hudson Taylor.” Martha pointed at a picture taken at Walls during the anti-bullying program sponsored by Cohen’s StandUp Foundation. “But who are the gentlemen in the other two?”

“The guy on the boat with me is Brian Sims.” The image showed two shirtless men―the older one qualifying as a muscle bear―standing on the deck of the PP. “He’s a state representative in Pennsylvania and he’s the one who introduced me to Ben Cohen. The other one’s Senator Marco Rubio from Florida. I did that internship in his office last year. The picture was taken in the Russell Senate Office Building on my last day there.”

“This is a nice touch. I assume you’re planning on adding more pictures as time goes on?”

“Yeah, that’s all that’ll go on this wall―pictures of friends and family. Hey, I just thought of something. I mentioned to the guys there’ll be a photographer here tonight. Would you be willing to have a picture taken with your six students? It’d look great with the other ones.”

“Certainly. I’d be happy to―”

“CJ, GET UP HERE.”

“Ooops, Papa’s calling. Gotta go mingle.”

An hour later the party was in full swing. People circulated, eating, drinking, and talking, as soft jazz played in the background. CJ noticed the crystal punch bowl he was asked to place on the dining room table was filling up with envelopes he knew contained donations to the candidate. He’d met her and Jack Evans soon after they’d arrived. His dad also made a point of introducing him to Aileen Ridder, some big shot at the HRC who mentioned the upcoming gala dinner. She promised she’d make sure his party would have good seats at the upcoming event; in the process mentioning she recalled him dancing with JLo the prior year.

The entire first floor was so full of guests the crowd overflowed to the side patio. CJ had been talking to people and was getting tired and hungry. He grabbed a couple of canapes from the tray of a passing server and slipped out the back door to gobble them down. He needed a break for a few minutes but his effort to disappear was doomed. He heard the door open and shut and felt a close presence behind him.

“Hi, CJ. I’m Robbie Mook. I was talking to your dads about you and was wondering if we could chat for a few minutes?”

CJ stuffed the remainder of the Avocado Toast with Shrimp he held, chewed, and swallowed before glancing over his shoulder at the man who’d approached him. “Hi. You want to talk now?”

“Sure, the reception will go on for a while before they start on the speeches.”

“Okay, I guess. It’s too hot out here. How about the basement?”

“How about you give me a tour of the house and we can talk while we walk around? I heard someone say you guys have an interesting art collection.”

“I guess… Not sure I know enough about it or who all the artists are, but I’ll try. How do you fit in this crowd, Robbie?” CJ appraised the handsome man next to him and decided he liked him. There was a twinkle in his eyes and a smile which exuded warmth. He almost rolled his eyes when he realized he was making decisions about liking somebody based on looks.

“You could say I’ve been around a campaign or two in my life so I’m often surrounded by politicians. But today I was invited here by a good friend of mine who works at the Human Rights Campaign. I think I saw you talking to Aileen before. She argued as a gay man I should meet one of Washington’s gay power couples.”

“My dads?” A dubious CJ chuckled at the comment. “A power couple?”

Robbie grinned and placed an arm around CJ’s shoulders. “Don’t sound so surprised, my friend. To you, they may just be your fathers, but a United States Marine Corps captain and a partner at one of the four giant, international, accounting firms are a formidable combination. And Aileen hinted they’ve generously supported HRC’s efforts in the past.”

“Yeah, I guess…”

“Stop sounding surprised. Anyway, I talked to both of them for a bit and they suggested I introduce myself to you. I understand you have an interest in politics and last summer you had an internship with a senator from Florida?”

“I did. It was a weird series of events that had me meeting a bunch of people right after I’d moved from Miami. One thing led to another and I ended up working for Senator Rubio for a couple of weeks.”

“Did you do it again this year?”

“Nah, I ended up traveling most of the summer. They invited me to return but I declined. I also turned down an offer to be a page in the Senate this year, but I may still do it at some point. I’m supposed to get in touch with Congresswoman Wasserman Shultz if I decide I want to do it. I have her cell number to call her if I do.”

“Debbie? You turned down an offer to be a Senate page and you have the number of the Chairwoman of the Democratic National Party? I’m thinking instead of a power couple we’re dealing with a power family.”

“Ummm, it’s not a big deal. Really. The initial invitation came from Representative Dingell, but since he’s retiring and―”

“John Dingell?” The handsome young man stopped to stare at CJ; he sounded surprised after hearing the names the boy used in such a casual way. “You know him too?”

“I’ve met him a few times. His granddaughter was in school with me last year but she graduated in June. I met him at a party at her house. Eventually, I went to see him at his office and he introduced me to Debbie.”

“Fuck! Oops, sorry. You mean to tell me you’ve been in Washington for a year and you’ve already worked with a Republican and know two powerful Democrats?”

“I told you, it was a weird series of connections starting with Brian and―”

“Brian who?” Robbie glanced at the collection of pictures, focusing on the one CJ had given his dads for Christmas the previous December. “I like this one.”

“Thank you. I bought it in Miami last year as a present for the dads. Great photographer by the name of Jeff Larson. Oh, and it’s Brian Sims I met first. He’s a Pennsylvania―”

“I know Brian. He’s a rising star and a lot of us are hoping he runs for statewide office at some point. Okay, I’ve monopolized enough of your time. When your dads mentioned you, I thought you’d be an interesting kid to meet. I was right. Damn, was I right.” The man extracted a card from the breast pocket of his jacket and offered it to CJ. “Here’s my contact info. I want you to call me sometime this week. I’ll take you to lunch so we can talk about some things I may be working on over the next couple of years. You seem like a bright young man, and I’d like to get you involved in some of my projects.”

“Good afternoon, my name’s Muriel Bowser and I am running for Mayor of Washington.” The candidate’s words were greeted with polite applause from the crowd gathered in the living room. CJ took the opportunity to sneak away from the crowd and slip into the kitchen where he could still pay attention to what was going on. He and his friends had been banned from consuming alcohol during the party and he was keen on hiding one of the champagne bottles the caterers were setting up for the eventual toast.

“I’d like to thank Jack Evans, our Ward Two councilman, for his gracious introduction. I look forward to working with him once I’m elected. I’d also like to express my gratitude to our hosts, César Abelló, Captain Brett Davenport, and their charming son, CJ.”

“Ohhh, their charming son, CJ. Isn’t that cute?” The whispered comment in his ear made CJ throw out his elbow and connect with Chipper’s midsection.

“Dude,” he grumbled. “Shut up. Don’t make me laugh.”

“I’d also like to acknowledge John Paul Smith and one of D.C.’s men in blue, Detective Tom Kennedy. I understand these four men met on the same day a few years ago and a year ago exchanged wedding vows together.” A piercing whistle came from Brad, leading to laughter and applause from the other guests.

“I haven’t met that young man yet, but based on the red hair it’s a good bet he belongs to Detective Kennedy. Make sure you say hello later. Thirty years ago, African Americans made up seventy percent of the population in our city. Today, the proportion of black residents is below fifty percent. One in ten residents is Hispanic, both black and white, while Asians account for a bit less than five percent of the population.

“Over a little more than a decade, the city has rebounded and reversed a population slide which began after residents started moving out to the suburbs. In the past two years, the city’s population has soared by about 30,000 people. This is 10,000 more residents than it gained in the decade preceding it.

“As your next mayor, I plan to make our city’s government responsive to residents whether they’ve been here five decades or five minutes. The shift has been as much generational as racial. The bulk of the growth since 2010 has been among people between the ages of twenty-five and forty. As a group they have contributed to a baby boomlet, adding 6,000 children younger than five.

“I am therefore delighted to see the group of young men with us tonight. They are our future and must be encouraged to become contributing citizens in our community. And while I’m speaking of the youngsters, I’d like to acknowledge the presence of Martha Edwards, the principal at School Without Walls High School. The school’s been once again ranked as the top in the District and I understand all these young men are her students. Walls’ the crown of our city’s educational system.

“The importance of education in a free society…”

While the candidate continued her appeal for support―financial and in the voting booth―CJ melted into the background. Ignoring the speech and the occasional applause, he concentrated on what he wanted to say when his turn came. Knowing he’d be next in addressing the crowd, he wasn’t nervous but wanted to ensure his comments came off clean without stumbling for the right words. Sustained clapping stirred him out of his reverie making him realize it was his turn.

“Thank you, Ms. Bowser.” CJ stood next to her, applauding and smiling at the gathered guests. “And thanks to all of you for joining us today. How about one more round of applause for the next mayor of our nation’s capital?” Shaking hands with Ms. Bowser, he turned towards the photographer her campaign had brought to the party and smiled for the camera.

“I’ve tried to meet all of you today, but in case I didn’t get the opportunity to do so, I’m CJ Abelló.” Feeling a tap to his shoulder, he glanced to his side and accepted a champagne flute from his father. “Thanks, Papa.” CJ returned his attention to the people in front of him. “Don’t worry, Uncle Tom,” he added, looking at Detective Kennedy. “No need to get into cop mode and try to enforce drinking laws. It’s ginger ale.” As he said so, he took a minute sip from his glass, smiled surreptitiously, and realized Brett had handed him one of the Champagne-filled flutes instead of the ones set aside for the minors.

“A little over a year ago I moved to Washington to live with my fathers. It wasn’t easy making the transition from Miami. My friends and my brother were left behind. But I soon realized I had stumbled into the best support system in the world. From day one, the two men I call dads have been by my side. Teaching me. Encouraging me. Cheering me on whenever I tried new things. Propping me up when I stumbled. And yes, scolding me at times when I may have inadvertently said or done something they didn’t quite agree with. Of course, it doesn’t happen all that often.”

CJ paused momentarily, allowing the laughter to die down while leaning back until he felt contact with his dad’s arm. “As part of my new life, I ended up with an entirely new family. My parents had over the years surrounded themselves with a group of friends who accepted me and provided additional support when I needed it.” He looked towards the back of the room where Doc, Dash, Danno, Trip, Dragon, and Kelly, Dragon’s boy-of-the-week, stood beaming at him. He acknowledged them with a nod.

“Three hundred sixty-five days ago today, I had the incredible honor of serving as best man at the wedding of my fathers and my uncles, Tom and John Paul.” Dragon’s ear-splitting whistle preceded the cheers and applause which greeted his words. “Great, first Brad and now Uncle Devon. My poor ears!

“Although the fight for equality is far from over, a year ago we won a battle in the war. Following the Supreme Court decision on DOMA, the marriage of two men or two women was for the first time recognized by the Federal government. Our country once again took a step forward towards embracing the differences in the people who’ve made the United States the greatest nation in the world. Let me emphasize that. We ain’t perfect, but we are great. We still have much to do. We must never give up on challenging discrimination. And we must never surrender to fear or hate. Although I’m not yet old enough to vote, I’m paying attention and promise I’ll do all I can to support those candidates who support my parents, my extended family, and myself. Based on what my fathers have told me, and on what I’ve heard tonight, I believe Muriel Bowser is one of those individuals who should be in public office. One of those individuals who’ll be a friend to all of us, regardless of skin color, nationality, or sexual orientation. One of those individuals who deserve our support” As he once again paused while his listeners applauded, CJ heard Brett mumble something about how his son should be the one running for fucking mayor.

“So back to the little ceremony a year ago. I had the last word then when I raised my glass in a toast to the grooms. I have the same honor today. Raise your glass and please join me in a toast once again. To celebrate my uncles. To celebrate my fathers. To celebrate freedom and equality.” CJ’s eyes roved over the assembled guests while pausing for effect. “And to celebrate our great American land.”

The End