Walls - 9. April 2015

The last Friday in March found CJ back at National Airport picking up Ritchie; his brother was flying in from Miami to spend spring break in Washington. On Monday, he took his younger sibling to Walls―he’d obtained permission from Principal Edwards allowing the kid to spend the day at the high school. The remainder of the week, Ritchie stuck with Brett in the daytime while the retired marine scouted locations for possible development opportunities in DC and supervised the renovations at the old theatre they’d purchased.

On Good Friday, CJ returned home after a day running errands, changed, and left for the dojo with his brother tagging along. “You better keep quiet about what we’re doing tonight, bro. Don’t let it slip out, okay?”

“Yeah! This is going to be fun. I can’t wait until he finds out.” The delight in his brother’s voice made CJ chuckle as they exited the bus and walked to the store-front his sensei held practice in.

Afterwards, sweaty and tired, CJ and Thiago headed to Georgetown with Ritchie in tow. Their plans were to shower and change before going to Harley’s place to pick him up and going out to dinner.

“You want a Gatorade?” CJ asked Thiago as soon as they walked inside the house.

“Sure. Hi, Captain.”

Brett sat in the kitchen, a martini glass and his laptop on the counter. “Hey, Thiago, happy birthday, dude.”

“Thank you, sir. And thanks for letting me spend the night here tonight.”

“Bah! You don’t have to thank us for that, you’re always welcome here. Happy birthday, buddy. This is from Brett and me.” César had walked in the room while the guys had taken stools next to Brett and placed an envelope in front of the boy.

“Thanks!” Thiago smiled at his friend’s fathers as he scanned the contents of the envelope. His eyes shot open and his mouth gaped. He stared at the men surrounding him and shook his head, pushing the documents away. “I… I can’t accept this. It’s too much. My mom will kill me if I do.”

Ritchie giggled. “No she won’t.”

“Dude, the biggest regret you’ll ever have is saying no when a bro invites you on a road trip.” Brett’s comment sounded like it was coming from experience. CJ thought he’d have to ask him if he’d ever said no. The teen sure as hell knew he’d never turn down an opportunity to travel.

“Yeah, bro. The dads talked to her already.” CJ draped an arm around his friend’s shoulders and bro hugged him. “You’re spending spring break in Miami with me. Ritchie will be in school so during the day I’ll show you the town. Let’s go downstairs and get ready. If we’re late, Harley’s gonna start texting us asking where we are and claiming he’s starving.”

“I’m… I’m in shock. I still can’t believe this. Thank you. Thank you so much.” Thiago stood and before following CJ and Ritchie, hugged both Brett and César. “I’m looking forward to seeing your parents again, sir. I enjoyed meeting them over Thanksgiving. Thank you. Hey, CJ, is Ozzie coming with us to pick up Harley?”

“Nah, no room in the Jeep for all of us. Ritchie will ride along but we’ll meet the others at the restaurant.”

CJ pulled Defiant into Harley’s driveway and turned off the ignition. “Come on out, guys. I want Harley’s parents to meet Ritchie. This will just take a few minutes.” Without glancing back, he strode up to the front door and loudly knocked three times.

A fraction of a second later, Harley opened the door and took a step back to let his friends in. “What up, bruh? Hey, Thiago, happy birthday. Hi, Ritchie. Come on in, guys, my parents are in the back.”

CJ saw the smirk on his friend’s face and heard his brother muffle a giggle. He rolled his eyes wondering if he was the only one who could keep a secret without giving it away. When Harley opened the door to the patio, he pushed Thiago through so the birthday boy would be the first one out.

“SURPRISE!”

“Shit! You guys scared the crap out of me.” Thiago turned to CJ and leaned in so nobody else could hear. “You’re sooo fucking dead.” Before he could say anything else he was mobbed by the gang and a multitude of friends from school and the dojo.

Although all the GSA members were there in force, Janelle Tu was noticeably absent. Harley had made it clear to everyone she was not to be invited to his house under any circumstances. When they’d had the conversation about her during a party-planning get together weeks before, CJ had been conflicted. He didn’t like her but he wasn’t vindictive enough to hold a grudge for such a long period. The rest of the guys did not share his sentiments. They were all against inviting her so he didn’t say anything after his initial cautionary comments. He was certain the girl would know she’d been excluded and might make trouble, but he was ready to put Janelle in her place again if needed. His buddies had made their feelings clear and he would back them up if necessary.

“Hi, you must be Ritchie. I’m Lucy, and this is Charlotte. We’re Harley’s sisters. My brother said you and I are the same age. Do you really live in Miami? I bet it’s fun to be near the beach all the time. Our parents take us to the Maryland shore every year but we spend our summer vacation in Wisconsin at my grandparents' farm. Wanna go get a Coke?”

CJ turned around in time to catch a glimpse of his brother blushing. Lucy was the oldest of Harley's two sisters and she was a cutie. Long chestnut hair framed a face which bore a certain resemblance to her brother’s but her features were softer, more feminine. Big brown eyes reflected the light, glimmering every time she blinked. The long eyelashes seemed to be a Wilkinson thing, a trait she shared with her grandfather, her father, and her brother. And it sounded as if she also shared Harley’s ability to talk non-stop. Oh well, Ritchie could handle himself.

“It’s cool, bro, go ahead. Hi, Lucy, don’t be getting my brother in trouble, okay?” CJ put his hand on the back of Ritchie’s neck, gave him a soft squeeze, and then patted him on the butt. “I’ll be around if you need me. Make sure she introduces you to her parents. I’m certain they’re somewhere in the house.”

• • •

During the week, CJ took Ritchie to Neiman Marcus and with the help of Yousef Farhad―manager of the Men’s Shop―bought his brother a couple of dressy outfits he could leave behind in Washington when he returned home. The nation’s capital style was dressier than the casual one in South Florida and wearing a blazer was also convenient in the cooler spring and fall seasons. CJ expected his brother to be a regular and frequent visitor.

On Sunday morning Ritchie woke up early, showered and dressed in his new clothes, and went upstairs to the kitchen making as little noise as possible trying not to wake up CJ and Ozzie. He defrosted and toasted a bagel, ate while sipping orange juice, and read the Sunday Washington Post comics. When Patrick knocked on the back door, he was ready to go. The boys walked the block and a half to Holy Trinity Church to attend Easter Sunday mass.

When they returned home, everyone was up and in various stages of getting ready. Sometime before noon, the nine men comprising both households walked to Clyde’s on M Street for a farewell brunch―Ritchie was flying back to Miami in the afternoon.

• • •

Owen offered to ride along when they went to the airport, but CJ asked him to stay behind; he wanted to spend a little time alone with his brother. Past the security checkpoint, CJ bought each a latte from a Starbucks cart and then sat in the waiting lounge until the flight was ready for boarding. “Did you have a good time this week?”

“Yeah, I always do when I come visit. I like spending time with you. I’ve missed having you around since you moved.”

“I’m sorry, Ritchie. I miss you too. And I’m sorry I couldn’t take the week off from school. But you know something? We can’t always control what happens to us. All we can do is try to adapt and make the best out of whatever we face. The dads have repeated it often enough. We’ll see each other again in a week when Thiago and I come down. And before then, I’ll talk to the dads about this summer. We’ll make sure you’re up here as much as possible.”

“Good. It’s boring at Aba’s. There’s not a lot of kids my age in the neighborhood.”

“Can’t you go to friends’ houses?”

“Yeah, but Aba can’t always take me. We can’t leave Abo alone at the house and it’s a pain to always be moving him in and out of the car. What with his wheelchair and stuff. There isn’t even a 7-Eleven close enough to walk to if I want something. You know how hard it is for me to get a Slurpee these days?” The boy looked at his feet and wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. “I used to complain when Mom dragged me along to go shopping, or to the grocery store, or to the dry cleaners… or wherever. At least I used to get out of the house.”

CJ took the coffee cup from his brother’s hands, placed it alongside his own on the floor, and wrapped the kid up in a hug, rocking him as Ritchie softly sobbed. “I’m sorry, bro. I wish I could be around all the time. Hey! I got an idea. Give me your phone.”

“What… what are you doing?” Ritchie watched as CJ slipped his Amex from his money clip, placed it on his lap, and started typing away on the phone.

“I’m creating an Uber account for you using my credit card. As long as Aba gives you permission, you can go anywhere you want or need to go. It’ll save her the hassle of driving you, and you don’t need to worry about calling a cab or having cash to pay for one.”

“But it costs money!”

“Duh! Of course it costs money. But you forget I have money. And for the record, so do you. The dads are still working on setting everything up, but you have a big savings account now. All the money from the life insurance and stuff’s in there. It means your school and then college will be paid for. And Aba gets Social Security and military benefits which help pay for your expenses. So don’t worry, okay?”

• • •

Early Saturday morning the following week, CJ, Thiago, and César boarded a flight to Miami. At Miami International Airport, CJ looked at his father in confusion when they headed to the taxi stand after retrieving their luggage from the lower level baggage concourse carousel. “We’re not getting a rental car?”

“Nope, not worth it.” César stood in the short waiting line, turning to look at CJ and his friend. “I’m here for one night. You couldn’t drive the rental afterwards so we’re borrowing Mami’s car.”

“So, we’re going to the abuelos’ house first?”

“They’re expecting us. It’s too early to check in at the hotel anyway. They’d probably try to accommodate us, but we’ll just wait until the afternoon.”

During the ride to Coral Gables, Thiago’s face was glued to the window, staring at the city he’d never been to before. “Homie, there’s like palm trees everywhere!”

“Welcome to the tropics, bud.” CJ chuckled at his friend’s obvious pleasure in such a detail. “I kinda miss them. Hey, Dad, when we get back to Washington, would it be okay if I buy a couple of small palms for downstairs?”

“I’m not sure they’d survive, CJ. There isn’t enough light down there. Remember, it only has the small high windows.”

“We could put them in the back room, near the pool table. All the lights stuck in the ceiling have individual controls and I could get one of those plant-growing lightbulbs for one or two and make sure they’re―”

“Is that a ficus tree?” Thiago pointed at a gigantic specimen in the median of Alhambra Boulevard. Its canopy extended well over the roadway, with its wide central trunk surrounded by dangling filaments and thin stalks reaching between the ground and branches.

“Yeah, it’s a banyan. They’re all in the same family. It doesn’t freeze down here so they grow all the time. There’s a couple of huge ones on the University of Miami campus. You’ll see them when we go there on Monday.”

Arriving at their destination, Thiago stared at the burnt-orange, two-story house; his distraction almost caused him to trip as he stepped out of the taxi. “It’s beautiful.”

César glanced up at his parent’s home and smiled. “Thanks, this is where I grew up.” Handing the cabbie a fifty-dollar note, he waved away the man peeling off bills to offer him change. “Keep it.”

“Come on, bro. Get your suitcase. I texted the abuelos during the ride and they’re waiting for us.” CJ had already removed his and his dad’s luggage from the minivan, placing the bags on the ground. He held the edge of the door while his friend retrieved his and then slammed the door shut, pounding his hand on it twice to let the driver know he could move on.

“Campeón!” Sebastián Abelló stood under the small entry porch, opening the iron gates, motioning for his grandson to come in. “Welcome to Miami, Thiago. It’s good to see you again.”

“Thank you, sir. Your home is real nice.” While shaking hands with the older man he noticed CJ’s grandmother smiling at them from the doorstep. “Good morning, Mrs. Abelló.”

“Bah! What’s this Mrs. Abelló stuff? You call me Rosario or abuela.” The grinning woman wrapped the kid in an embrace and winked at CJ. “Come here, CJ. I need a hug from you too.”

“Hi abuelo, abuela. Hey, can I have the keys to the car? Not worth it to bring our luggage inside. May as well put it in the trunk already.”

• • •

An hour or so later, CJ stopped the car in front of his other grandparent’s house and was jumped on by a golden hued mass of fur as soon as he opened the Beemer’s door and put his feet on the ground.

“WINGNUT! Down!” Ritchie ran after his dog but by the time he reached him it was too late. “Bad dog! You’re not supposed to run out of the house like that.” The boy’s admonishment failed to deter the Golden Retriever. It stood on its hind legs, pinning CJ against the car, sniffing all around him and licking his face.

Thiago was laughing hard as he exited the vehicle on the opposite side. He took his phone out to snap a couple of pictures. “Homie, I know you like blondes, but I think Ozzie might get jealous. Hey, Ritchie. That’s a great dog, buddy.”

“Good boy! Who’s a good boy?” CJ stroked the animal’s head and scratched behind it’s ears, unable to contain his own laughter. “Pull him back, Ritchie. Let me get out of the car.”

César shook his head and stepped on the walkway, headed towards the front door. “I’ll be inside with Olga, kids. Get him under control and then come on in. Oh, and make sure you cover the back seat with towels or a sheet before you let the mutt in the car. You are going to need to have it washed before you return it to Mami later this week, but let’s try and minimize the mess.”

• • •

“What the hell, homes? Does everyone in Miami really drive hundred thousand dollar cars?” Thiago shook his head as CJ inched forward behind a fire engine red Ferrari Testarossa.

“You stole that line from Will Smith!” A giggling Ritchie glanced through the rear window, turned around, and tapped Thiago on the shoulder. “Check out the Rolls Royce behind us. I think we have the crappiest car on the street.”

“Right. You’re as bad as your brother. A 7 Series BMW’s crappy? This is the most expensive car I’ve ever been in.”

“Funny, that’s the same thing Ozzie said when he was first here last year. But even a new one’s less than a hundred K so don’t exaggerate.” CJ stopped the car and waited for the attendant to run over to his side and open his door. “Ritchie, get out on the sidewalk side. Thiago, give him a hand with the dog, please? Last thing we need is Wingnut getting excited and us having to chase him down Ocean Boulevard.”

Taking the claim ticket from the valet parking guy, CJ strode around the back of the vehicle and stopped in front of the podium where a voluptuous woman in a skimpy top and very short skirt greeted him. “Joining us for lunch, sir?”

“Yes, please. Something outside? We have our dog with us.”

“Certainly, sir. If you and your friends will follow me.”

Once they’d been seated, a busboy brought a bowl of water and placed it on the ground by Wingnut while Thiago swiveled his head from side to side. “What the hell’s up with all these people? They all have like perfect bodies and they aren’t shy about showing them off. Do any of these guys own shirts? And these women! My god, those ain’t bathing suits, they’re postage stamps!”

“I think they have the right idea.” CJ discarded the white-linen short-sleeve shirt he wore. “Might as well work on the tan.” He draped the garment over the back of his chair, stretched his legs out, and threw his head back. The tropical sun felt warm beating against his skin while the salt-tinged breeze blowing in from the ocean cooled him off. Life was good.

“Show off!”

“Aba would be telling you to put it back on, CJ.” Ritchie giggled while stroking his dog behind the ears. The pup had settled underneath the table but kept his head on his master’s lap.

“Yeah, well, she ain’t here.”

The busboy returned carrying place settings and water glasses for the three of them with a server following close behind. After ordering drinks, Thiago gave in to CJ’s pressure and also removed his shirt. He smiled when appreciative glances from both men and women were directed at them. “So, how come your dad and your grandmother didn’t come out with us?”

“They’re ordering food in. They have a meeting at the house and I didn’t want to spend the afternoon listening to them talking to a lawyer. This is much better.”

“On a Saturday? A lawyer who makes house calls?”

“The guy’s one of my dad’s fraternity brothers from the University of Florida. I’ve never met him but I’ve talked to him on the phone. Nice guy. Anyway, when I moved to Washington, he took care of all the legal stuff. With Aba being in charge of my brother, Dad wanted to make sure everything was done right. That’s why he flew down for the day.” CJ removed his sunglasses and used a napkin to polish the lenses; he was trying not to say anything derogatory concerning his mother which might upset Ritchie so he avoided the details about the man being the one who’d engineered Lourdes and Rich giving up their parental rights. “There’s another attorney, a woman in Washington who’s supposed to call in during their meeting. She’s handling all the money stuff since the little twerp gets military benefits and a bunch of other stuff.”

“Hey! Don’t call me a twerp. I’ll sic Wingnut on you.”

“Right, you go ahead and do that.” CJ’s rich baritone laugh earned him extended looks from passersby. “What’s he gonna do? Lick me to death?”

• • •

Ritchie spent the night in the hotel with his brother and the following morning found the two of them, Thiago, and César sitting in the lobby waiting for the grandparents to join them for brunch. When his phone rang, CJ didn’t recognize the number but the area code belonged to someone in Washington. “Hello, this is CJ.”

“Good morning, Mr. Abelló. My name’s Quentin Rodriguez and I’m calling on behalf of Senator Marco Rubio. The senator noted your son was an intern at his office―”

“Wait, you’ve got the wrong César. I think you want to talk to my dad. I was the one who had an internship in Mr. Rubio’s office.” CJ glanced at his father who gave him an inquisitive look.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Your numbers must have been transposed. I’ll call the other―”

“Don’t bother. My dad’s sitting right here with me. Let me give him the phone.” He handed his surprised father the phone and grinned, knowing the last thing his father must have wanted on a Sunday morning was a call from a politician. “It’s for you, Dad.”

“Hello, this is César… No that’s quite all right. You’re not interrupting anything… Certainly, I’d be happy to talk to the senator at his convenience… That’s interesting, we happen to be in Miami at the moment… Unfortunately, I’m returning to Washington this afternoon, but my son will still be here tomorrow. I’m certain he’d enjoy being there… Yes, I’ll tell him. And you can text the details to this number… Don’t worry about it and yes those are my correct numbers… Thanks for calling, Quentin. I look forward to speaking with the senator.”

“What’s going on, Dad?” CJ asked, accepting his phone back from a smirking César.

“You, my dear son, just scored an invitation to watch Senator Marco Rubio announce his candidacy for President of the United States.”

“What the..? How? Why did they call you?” CJ stared at his dad, taking occasional glances at Ritchie and Thiago, wondering what the hell was going on.

“The senator wants to talk to me and Brett sometime this week. I’m sure he’s lined up all his big donors and now he’s moving to the next level of potential contributors. Anyway, he’s making the announcement and this guy’s adding you and a guest to the list of people invited to the event. You and Thiago get to see the whole thing in person.”

“But… we didn’t bring coats or ties. Don’t we have to dress up?”

“Wouldn’t worry about it. Jeans and a polo shirt should be okay. This is Miami and the two of you are young enough―”

“Campeón!” Sebastián Abelló’s enthusiastic greeting interrupted the conversation and led to the four guys standing to greet him. “No credit card trick this time, you hear me? Brunch’s on me. It’s our birthday present to your friend.”

César held his son back while Ritchie and Thiago greeted the older Abellós. “The guy’s going to text you the info. Go check it out. And then let me know what you think. Okay?”

“Sure, Dad. Hi abuela, abuelo.”

Staring at the display of food around the courtyard, Thiago shook his head and chuckled. “Harley would go nuts with all this stuff.”

“I know, right? I’m gonna have to drag him down here one of these days.” CJ sat between his brother and his schoolmate, directly across from his father. Conversation was sparse at the beginning as they all tucked into their meal.

“Hey, César, I received a letter from your lawyer. She tells me you guys changed the name to The CBC Family Foundation. How come?” Sebastián’s comment was greeted by a gasp from Thiago. The boy dropped his fork and stared at the people sitting with him before fixing his stare on CJ.

“That’s you? The CBC Family Foundation? You guys are paying for me to go to school?” Surprise, concern, confusion, and a multitude of other emotions flittered across Thiago’s face.

“I… I…” CJ stared at his dad, lost for words, imploring for help with his eyes.

“Hang on, Thiago, let me answer my dad first. We made the change for two reasons, Papi. CBC stands for César, Brett, and CJ. He’ll be turning eighteen this year and will join the board of directors then. Plus, we wanted some anonymity. Brett and I don’t need or want publicity. If someone needs to know we’ll tell them, but otherwise we prefer to keep quiet.” César looked at Thiago and shared a gentle smile with him.

“I wouldn’t say we’re paying for you to go to school, buddy. We established a scholarship fund and decided to award it to a Walls student for now. Martha Edwards and James Rupple agreed to handle all the details for us. They recruited other educators for the committee, selected who to invite to apply, and chose the final winner. I won’t deny Brett and I were pleased you were picked, but you earned that grant on your own. CJ had no say in the matter.”

Thiago remained quiet during most of the remainder of the meal. He’d look at CJ and shake his head. The kid did smile again: when their server brought a slice of Key Lime Pie with a candle on it and led the group in a rendition of “Happy Birthday.”

• • •

“HOLY SHIT!” CJ’s shout while looking at his phone made César glance in the rearview mirror and Thiago and Ritchie turn to look at him. “Fuck! This is just too weird.”

They were on their way back to the airport to drop the older man off.

“What’s going on?” Thiago asked.

“Robbie Mook just sent me a text. That’s a guy I met last summer, Ritchie. He sent a link to a YouTube video and a message he wants me to call him. Hillary Clinton’s running for President and he’s the campaign manager.”

• • •

“Welcome home, babe.” Brett was happy to have his husband home. “Missed ya.”

“Missed you too, Jarhead. I hate these overnight trips. And this one was a doozy.”

“You want a drink? We have the house to ourselves. Wanna fuck around in the kitchen like we used to?” Brett’s smirk and wiggling eyebrows elicited a chuckle from his husband.

“We have the place to ourselves for a few days, we’ll get to that. I’ll take you up on the cocktail and then I gotta tell you what’s been going on. You’re not going to fucking believe it!”

“Spill… Sorry I was asleep last night when you called. Played basketball with the guys in the afternoon and I was dead tired.”

“I’ll start with this morning. We were in the lobby, waiting for my parents, when CJ got a phone call. Some guy calling for me―he had the numbers mixed up―on behalf of Marco Rubio. The senator wants to talk to us. He’s running for President, making the announcement in Miami tomorrow, and CJ was invited to be there.”

“Let me guess: he wants money and thinks our kid’s the way to get to us.”

“Yeah, that’s my guess. I wish him luck convincing CJ. I don’t think our boy will be too receptive. But I did tell the guy we would be happy to speak with the senator. I’m sure he’ll be calling in the next few days.”

“At least you had something to talk about while eating.”

“Not for long. Dad brought up the letter Rachel sent out about the foundation’s new name and Thiago figured out who’d funded his scholarship.”

“Oh shit! And anonymity was one of the reasons for the change. How did he handle it?”

“Not well at first. He claimed we were just paying for him to go to college. I spent most of the meal explaining the procedures and how we had nothing to do with the selection. Then he and CJ went at it. Thiago complained his buddy had been holding out on him and how he wouldn’t have applied for the damn scholarship if he’d known it was from us.”

“Fuck! Did he calm down?”

“After Papi got on his soapbox, called him an ass, and told him to grow up.”

“Like you did with Owen?”

“Yep. What is it with CJ’s friends? None of them give a shit our son’s going to be a millionaire by the time he graduates and they all want to run away from his money.”

“Dude, don’t complain. A hell of a lot better than having a bunch of gold diggers chasing after him.”

“Yeah, I guess…”

“Well that was an exciting Sunday. I’m glad you―”

“I’m not done!” César laughed when Brett made a funny face and tilted his head. “There’s more. Driving to the airport, CJ got a text from Robbie Mook. Hillary Clinton’s running for President and he’s the campaign manager. He wants our boy involved.”

“HOLY SHIT!”

“That’s what CJ said when he read the text message! How the fuck does a seventeen-year-old kid get two presidential candidates chasing after him?”

“All due to our superior parenting skills!”

“Asshole!”

“So what happened with Ritchie?”

“Are you sure about this, Jarhead?”

“Stop asking stupid questions, okay?”

“Fine… Juan’s deteriorating. He barely recognizes people. Please shoot me if I ever get Alzheimer’s. Anyway, between him, Ritchie, and the dog, Olga’s getting overwhelmed. The trust fund’s all set. You and I get to supervise the investments. I figured we’ll just turn it over to the same crowd who manages CJ’s.”

“What about Dickhead’s family?”

“Parents are both confirmed dead. The private investigator got us copies of the death certificates and even sent us pictures of the tombstones.”

“Any other relatives? I couldn’t find anything while dealing with the Air Force.”

“A younger sister. But the PI hasn’t been able to track her down. Not sure how the fuck that’s possible in today’s day and age. I mean, unless she’s one of those loonies living off the grid somewhere in Alaska or in the Rocky Mountains. He’s gonna keep digging. But the rest of the paperwork’s ready to go.”

“So what’s the next step?”

“CJ… We’ll bring him up to speed when he gets back here on Thursday and then I’d suggest he take the ball from there and run with it. Now, about us having the house to ourselves… where’s that bottle of olive oil?”

• • •

CJ and Thiago were up early Monday morning. They had breakfast at the old fashioned soda counter of Allen’s Drugstore on the corner of Red Road and Bird Avenue, and were on the University of Miami campus in plenty of time for the scheduled tour.

“So, you going to apply here?” Thiago adjusted his sunglasses while staring at Lake Osceola. The small body of water in the middle of campus resembled a mirror, reflecting the bright morning sunlight. “I figured you’d end up at Harvard, Yale, or one of the other Ivy League schools. I mean, you have the grades to get in there.”

“Yeah, but…” CJ was momentarily distracted when a couple of hot studs walked by them. The guys wore shorts and tank tops, not leaving much to the imagination.

“Down, homie. Or I’m telling a certain Aussie you’re cruising men while on vacation.”

“Fuck you! I wasn’t cruising. I was admiring the view. Anyway, UM has a good architectural program. I have my grandparents and my brother nearby, and you can’t beat the weather. Look at us. In Washington, it’s still too chilly to walk around dressed like those guys were. You’ll be up to your ass in snow in January and I’d be by the pool or at the beach.”

“I think I’m starting to hate you a little, CJ.”

After the tour ended, they walked over to the Rathskeller in the Student Activities Center building to have lunch.

“This is a cool place. Reminds me of the Bulldog Tavern at Georgetown but with a waterfront view.” CJ glanced around, imagining what it would be like to be a student at the university and spending time in here. The open floor plan, double height, and floor-to-ceiling glass windows facing the lake made him think of how much fun it would be to chill on Friday afternoons after classes were done for the day.

“I’ve only been there that one time we went to lunch with your dads, but this looks so much more open.”

“I think that’s because of the whole Miami lifestyle, bud. Whenever we walk around the Georgetown campus, there’s guys wearing blazers and shit. The only suits I’ve seen today were on the administration people we met. South Florida’s sooo chill compared to Washington.”

“Speaking of administrators, did you notice the funny face that lady made when she mentioned the availability of financial aid and you told her you weren’t interested?”

“Hey! I didn’t say I wasn’t interested. All I said was I wouldn’t be requesting any.”

“Yeah, but what if it was like a scholarship based on grades or something like that. I know damn well you don’t need it but you might still be entitled to something.”

“Doesn’t matter, bro. I still wouldn’t apply or accept it if it was offered. My dads would kill me if I even suggested it to them. They’d tell me the money should go to someone who needs it.”

“Why? I’m accepting it. And I’m still having problems dealing with that. I’m gonna have to talk to my parents about it when we get back home.”

“You do that. But I’m warning you, I’ll talk to them too. I’ll explain how the process works and how neither my dads or I had anything to do with you getting it. Stop being a dick about it, okay? The dads established a scholarship and they’re glad the first recipient was someone they knew and liked. You wanna piss them off by being a jerk, you go right ahead. And you heard my grandfather. You keep making a big deal out of this shit he’s gonna get pissed at you too!”

“I’m not going to argue with you, CJ. But Rachel Stout should have said something when she first wrote me. I mean, she’s the attorney handling this stuff. She should have told me the money was coming from my best friend’s family.”

“Dude, just because she’s a lawyer doesn’t mean she knows everything. She has no idea who my friends are or that you’re one of them. Now shut the fuck up and let’s get some food. Like Harley would say: I’m starving!”

• • •

“CJ, it’s good to see you. Thank you for coming.” Senator Marco Rubio had announced his bid for the Republican Party nomination for President and was now circulating amongst supporters and members of the press, shaking hands and smiling a lot.

“It was quite an experience being here, sir. I’m glad I was in town and able to attend. Senator, this is my friend Thiago Baravento. He goes to school with me back in Washington. Thiago, Senator Marco Rubio.”

“Good to meet you, Thiago. The name sounds Brazilian…”

“Yes, sir. I was born in Washington as was my mother, but Dad’s from Brazil.”

“So, CJ, I’d like to talk to your fathers about my run and I’d love to get you involved in the campaign. You too, Thiago. I believe it’s important young people become active in our political system. One day, it may be one of you making an announcement similar to the one I just made.”

“I couldn’t agree with you more, Senator. You know very well how interested I am in government. I’m not sure I’ll ever want to run for the highest office in the land, but I plan to be involved.”

“You should call my office when you get back home. We can definitely use a bright young man like you in the campaign.”

“That I’m not so sure will happen, Senator. I can’t speak for my parents but there’s very little chance I could support your candidacy. You see, I’m a gay man. And although I agree with some of your positions, your refusal to acknowledge and accept I have the same rights as my friend here is a deal breaker. What good are your policies if you don’t treat me as an equal? If you think I’m not entitled to live my life the way I want to? Am I supposed to hide who I am? The day you offer your support to the GLBT community in public and acknowledge our right not to be discriminated against, we can talk. Until then…”

“I’m sorry to hear that, CJ. But as you know, I’m a man of faith, and my religious beliefs are at the core of my policies.”

“Then I’d like to leave you with some words I heard Pennsylvania State Representative Brian Sims use a couple of years ago: Please remember when you took your oath of office you placed your hand on a bible and swore to uphold the constitution. Not the other way around.”

• • •

“Why are you quiet and staring at me?” CJ was driving back to the hotel after he and Thiago had stopped for dinner. They had three more days in Miami and planned on using the gym in the mornings and going to the beach each day. Their evenings would be spent with Ritchie at one of the grandparents’ house or the other.

“Because I’m still in shock. You dissed a fucking U.S. Senator. To his face! And you did it in a polite and logical way. Homes, you’ve got the biggest pair of balls of anyone I know.”

• • •

“Morning, Ozzie!” CJ was in the kitchen, using a juice glass to carve out circles in the center of bread slices while his fathers watched him from across the counter.

“G’day… why didn’t you wake me up?” Owen walked around to where CJ was standing and kissed him on the cheek. “I need tea.”

“I figured I’d let you sleep in. After last night I knew you had to be sore and tired.”

“OVERSHARE!” Brett’s shout made both younger men stare at him. “We have a pretty good idea what you guys are doing down there. We don’t need to hear details.”

“You know something, Ozzie?” César smirked as he lifted his reading glasses off his nose. “Brett’s right, we know what you guys are doing and we have no problems with it. You spend enough time in this house, you’re almost a family member. I wish you’d relax around us. You see us in our boxers every morning when you spend the night, yet you always put on shorts and a shirt before you come upstairs. You need to relax, buddy. You have nothing we don’t have. It’s okay for you to walk around here in your underwear when it’s just the four of us.”

Owen’s blushing made CJ smile. “I know. It’s just I grew up with my mum and sister around so we had to get dressed before we left our room. Spencer always complained.”

“Speaking of your family, how’s your sister doing?”

“She’s doing great! She’s lost all her hair, but she’s in good spirits. I’m trying to convince her to come for a visit. Since I won’t be going home this summer because of my internship, I thought she’d like to see Washington.”

“That’s a great idea.” César looked at Brett and gave him a small wink. “She’d be welcome to stay here. Or if you want to give her your room next door, you can move over while she’s in town.”

“Hell yeah!” CJ’s enthusiasm elicited chuckles from his fathers and boyfriend.

“Sooo, what are you making for breakfast?” Brett asked. “I can smell the bacon you already cooked, but what’s with the bread and the cutouts?”

“Eggs on toast, bacon, and fruit. I sliced all that stuff and cooked the meat while you were all still in bed.”

“What’s the green leafy stuff?” Brett pointed at a small metal bowl CJ had placed next to the stove. “Are you sprinkling marijuana on top of the eggs?”

“Jeez, Papa! You might as well divorce Dad and shack up with Harley. You’re turning into as much of a pothead as he is.”

The Washington Post César had spread on the counter was showered with coffee when he couldn’t control his laughter. “Somebody help me. What did I ever do to deserve the two of you? So what’s the green stuff?”

“Remember the fresh tarragon we used for the fish last month? I found some left over in the back of the fridge. It was all dried out so I crumpled it. Better than the stuff they sell in those little containers.”

Conversation switched topics while they ate, touching on family, friends, and current events. “That was pretty good, CJ. I love it when you make brekkie.” Owen stood, picked his plate up and grabbed the one in front of Brett. “Sit down and relax, I’ll clean up.”

César placed a hand on Owen’s arm and guided him to sit again. “Hold up, Ozzie, Brett and I will take care of cleaning up in a few minutes. CJ, why don’t you call your brother now? We’d like to listen in so use the speaker.”

‘Umm… okay.” He grinned, reached for his phone and placed it in the middle of the counter.

“CJ!” There was no disguising the kid’s excitement when he answered the phone.

“Hey, bro. How they hanging? I’m sitting here with Ozzie and the dads. We want to talk to you.”

“Hi, Mr. A, Captain. And hi, bigger brother.” The boy’s giggle brought a smile to Owen’s face. “Same stuff. Bored since you and Thiago left. But I’m going over to a friend’s house this afternoon to hang out. Thanks for the Uber thing. I’m using it again today.”

“Cool. So... we want to discuss you coming up to Washington.”

“Yeah? I can’t wait until school’s over and I can go visit. You said you’re staying in Washington this year so it would be fun to spend all that time with you guys.”

“Well, that’s what we wanted to talk about.” CJ paused, looked at his fathers, and was rewarded with warm smiles. He was going to enjoy this. “Instead of coming up for a visit this summer, how’d you like to move up here permanently?”