Roar - Georgetown Book I - 6. Roar • Part VI

A week after the first presidential debate at Hofstra University in Long Island, CJ was back in New York City. He boarded the first available express train after his last class, stopped at the Upper East Side apartment to shower and change, and was now ensconced on a chair at the network’s studio in Midtown Manhattan. Thanking the technician for the assistance with the microphone and transmitter, CJ smiled at the host.

The hair and makeup were perfect. The smile was toothpaste-ad worthy. The black dress―with the oval cutout hinting at a generous cleavage―would not have been out of place at a cocktail party. CJ thought the anchor looked hot―for being a woman.

“Welcome to the Millennial Debate on FOX. I’m Megyn Kelly, your host for the evening. Tonight, we have two young men representing the campaigns of Donald Trump and Hillary Clinton. Over the next hour, they will address some of the issues central to the 2016 presidential campaign.

“Appearing on behalf of Mr. Trump’s campaign is Earl Pullman. He’s a senior at Liberty University in Lynchburg, Virginia and the president of the Young Republicans on campus. Welcome to the show, Earl.”

“Thank you, Ms. Kelly.” Earl stuck a finger between his shirt collar and neck and twisted his head making CJ believe it was a tad too tight for the man. “It’s a pleasure to be here. I’d like to thank FOX and the Trump organization for inviting me. It’s my first time in New York. Best of all, I’m staying in an apartment at Trump Plaza owned by the Trump family!”

“Thank you, Earl. And representing the Clinton campaign, we have CJ Abelló. A freshman at Georgetown University in Washington DC. He was a delegate for Secretary Clinton at the Democratic National Convention held this past summer in Philadelphia. Welcome to New York, CJ.”

“Thank you, Megyn. It’s great to be back in this great city and here with you.”

“Back in New York City? So this isn’t your first time in Manhattan?”

“Oh, no. I’m a frequent visitor and always enjoy my trips to New York.”

“When we return from break, our guests will discuss immigration and Mr. Trump’s proposal for a wall along our southern border.”

He had no idea how Earl was chosen, but it was obvious the man was nervous. He retrieved a handkerchief from his back pocket and dabbed at his upper lip. CJ, on the other hand, felt relaxed and was looking forward to having dinner later that evening with Cristina Pereira—Chipper’s sister—and some guy she was dating.

“Welcome back. We have with us Earl Pullman representing the Trump campaign. And also CJ Abelló, a spokesperson for the Clinton organization. Let’s start with you, Earl. Mr. Trump proposed a ban on Muslims entering the United States. He suggested the creation of a special force to deport millions of illegal aliens. He also uses the building of a wall along the entire border with Mexico as a rallying cry at campaign events. What is your position―as a member of the Millennial Generation―on these matters?”

“I agree with Mr. Trump’s ideas. Our country’s being flooded with people who take jobs away from real Americans. Drugs are being smuggled in every day and rapists and murderers are allowed to run around our cities without consequences. All that will stop once Mr. Trump’s elected President. He’ll make America great again.”

Kelly shifted her attention to her other guest. “CJ, you’re the son of immigrants. How do you respond?”

“Actually, Ms. Kelly, my mother and father were both born in the United States. As was I. Their parents, however, are all Cuban refugees who came to our country in the 1960s. They’re not drug smugglers. They’re not rapists. They’re not murderers. And, to the best of my knowledge, they never took a job away from anyone. Quite the opposite, one of my grandfathers started a small business and created jobs.

“And as far as the wall goes, hiding behind it won’t solve any problems we may have. I’d suggest we all look to the past. Hadrian’s Wall, the Great Wall of China, and the Berlin Wall all proved ineffective in the long run. Instead of walls we should build bridges to ensure our country has a realistic immigration policy allowing future generations to benefit from the contributions of those people coming to our shores.”

“I don’t have any idea who Hadrian is,” Earl said. “But the other two were built by the Chinese and the Russians, so of course they wouldn’t work. Mr. Trump will build a great wall―he knows how to build things―and he’ll make Mexico pay for it.”

CJ rolled his eyes and couldn’t hold back his chuckle. “Yeah, right. Good luck with that.”

“We’re going to take a short break. When we return, our conversation will focus on other issues central to this campaign.” Megyn Kelly smiled into the camera until the guy standing by it aimed a hand at her and counted down to zero with his fingers.

“Sorry about the confusion concerning your parents, CJ. Seems my notes on you aren’t as accurate as they should have been. As a matter of fact, my staff made a comment about how light your social media footprint is. Quite unexpected for someone your age.”

“That’s okay, Megyn. The misunderstanding’s forgiven. And as far as social media goes, I’d rather do than talk. I have better things to occupy my time than having my face glued to a phone or tablet all the time.”

Earl apparently took CJ’s comment as a personal attack. “Just because I post on Facebook doesn’t mean I spend all my time on the internet. I like to keep in touch with my friends.”

“So do I, Earl. But I’d rather spend time with real friends than with imaginary ones.” CJ chastised himself after the jab but the guy was starting to annoy him.

The floor manager once again counted down with his fingers to mark the conclusion of the commercial break and the host smiled at the camera with the blinking light. “We’re back. My next question’s for CJ and it’s somewhat related to the issue of immigration. The North American Free Trade agreement has come under scrutiny during the campaign. We know where the candidates stand on the issue. Now I’d like to hear what a new generation thinks about it. CJ?”

“NAFTA’s one of our older trade treaties―older than myself―and it’s not perfect. Secretary Clinton has acknowledged as much. Some areas of our nation were negatively affected while some benefitted. However, trying to turn the clock back on such agreements is unrealistic. We live in an interconnected world. We must be participants in the global economy.

“The jobs which left our country may never come back. But we can create better ones. We can retrain our workforce. We can take advantage of technology and prepare an entire new generation for the jobs of tomorrow. And part of that effort should be the ability of students to attend college and receive the training they’ll need.”

“I’ll assume you’re referring to the Democratic Party call for tuition-free education at in-state public colleges and universities for all those making under $125,000 a year. Earl, what’s your opinion?”

“I think Mr. Trump has the right idea when he says America first. We can have all those jobs back, produce everything we want in America, and make America great again.”

CJ was realizing the guy didn’t have an original thought; all he did was regurgitate campaign slogans. “I have to disagree. Some of those jobs will never come back and the fault’s not with NAFTA but with consumers. Tell me something, Earl, where was your shirt made? Or your tie? Are they part of the Trump collection manufactured in different countries but never in the USA? What about your car? Did Americans make it?

“I can tell you right now manufacturing is alive and well in America. What I’m wearing was all made in our country. The cars and motorcycles back home were too. All we need is to support our manufacturing and buy Made in America products. Maybe if we all spend a few more pennies. If more of us buy American instead of Chinese. If we insist those who decry the loss of manufacturing jobs do something about it instead of being crybabies, we can increase production right here at home.”

Over the remainder of the hour, the two college students talked about health care, the environment, race relations, and the controversy surrounding Secretary Clinton’s e-mails.

“I don’t place too much stock on those e-mails, Megyn. After all, the entire thing’s been choreographed by an Aussie, a fugitive of Swedish law, hiding away from justice at the Ecuadorian embassy in London, England. A puppet of the Russian regime, working for an Icelandic company, to influence the American election in favor of a candidate who despises Mexico and China.”

“Mr. Trump’s never said he hates those countries!” Earl’s interruption earned him a scowl from the show’s host and a smile from CJ. “He’s said they take advantage of us because of our weak government and he’ll fix that when he makes America great again!”

“That’s quite an accusation you’re making, CJ.” Kelly ignored the outburst by the young Republican and kept her attention on the younger man sitting across her. “A robust statement, but an accusation no less.”

“But a statement based on facts, Megyn. I hope the number of nations I mentioned in that one sentence reminds you and all your viewers how intertwined geopolitics has become. We can’t build a wall around our country and ignore our neighbors and allies. We can’t offer simplistic solutions to serious problems. Mrs. Clinton has traveled all over the planet. She’s met and dealt with countless heads of state. The Secretary’s respected worldwide, and sometimes feared, as in the case of Russia. Those are attributes which will serve her and our nation well as President of the United States.”

“Our final topic is the military. Earl….”

“The liberal policies of the Democrats has weakened our country. As Mr. Trump has said: our military’s a disgrace―”

“I’m sorry, Megyn, but I must interrupt.” Earl attempted to continue talking but CJ rolled over him. “I am tired of hearing the same refrain about making America great again. When was it our country fell from grace? I think I missed it. What period in our history is it we want to recreate? There’s so many options. Segregation? The Cold War? The Great Recession?

“Furthermore, I take remarks disparaging our armed forces as a personal insult. Our military is not a disgrace. My uncle served in the United States Army and his son, who I consider a brother, enlisted after high school and is in boot camp right now. One of my close friend’s a US Navy veteran. My stepfather served in the United States Air Force until his death. And my father served and was injured in the Middle East. He retired as a captain in the Marine Corps after being hurt in a helicopter crash.

“I may not be cut out for military service myself, but my connections to the men and women in uniform run deep. I just mentioned important people in my life who have or are serving in each of the four branches.” CJ paused for a moment and stared at his antagonist with contempt. “When anybody―and I mean anybody―no matter how important they may think they are says our military’s a disgrace, I take it personally. Particularly from a draft dodger like Mr. Trump. It’s an insult to me, to my family, to my friends, and to the brave men and women serving in the Armed Forces. They are a big part of what makes America great. The greatest country in the world as far as I’m concerned.”

• • •

Dinner with Cristina and her new boyfriend was enjoyable. The man seemed okay except for being a little too pushy and high-strung. Then again, he was older and a New Yorker so it was not completely unexpected. CJ had turned off his phone during the TV appearance and afterwards found a multitude of text messages and emails about his performance. He ignored them all until the following morning when he caught an early train back to Washington and spent most of the time replying to the missives.

He arrived in DC too late for his early morning class but was able to make the second. Afterwards, he hung around in the library until it was time for his appointment with the Dean of the School of Foreign Service. The dean’s assistant was one of those who e-mailed CJ and asked him to call the office. When he did, he was told the administrator wanted to see him so he made an appointment for the early afternoon.

“You did very well last night, CJ.” Patrick sat on the orange beanbag chair Harley usually claimed whenever the Squad hung out in the basement. But Harley was in Orlando, Florida at motorcycle technical school. Brad, Patrick’s brother was also absent; he was at Fort Benning, in Columbus, Georgia. “But I think you were getting upset with the other guy towards the end.”

“Thanks, Paddy. Yeah, he was getting on my nerves. I mean, all the fucker did was regurgitate Trump sound bites. He wasn't able to conjure up an original thought.”

“Regurgitate? Conjure? I think you need to drop out of school. Your language skills are going to hell in a handbasket. I’m pretty sure you’re already overeducated.” Brett’s quip earned him a slap to the head from César.

“Shut the fuck up, Jarhead. Just because our son has a better vocabulary than us doesn’t mean you have to pick on him.”

“Vocabulary? Is that the same as a lot of fancy-ass words?”

“Mate, have you noticed your dads are a little nuts?” Owen tried to keep a serious expression but the look Ritchie gave him led to a bout of chuckling.

“Don’t be a hater, Ozzie. Just ’cause our dads are fun, don’t mean they’re crazy.” Ritchie hugged Wingnut closer to his body as if the dog were a shield. “Maybe a little. But not entirely.”

“Asshole!”

Tom, JP, and Patrick had come over after dinner to watch the vice-presidential debate. Afterwards, while the pundits dissected the evening’s performance by the candidates, CJ switched between three different networks whenever a commercial break came on until Tom reached over and snatched the remote control away from him. “That’s enough channel surfing. Just ’cause you’re a big-shot TV commentator doesn’t mean you get to torture us. For what it’s worth, you did well last night. I was proud of you.”

“Thanks, Tom. It was interesting. The campaign’s communications staff sent me a message congratulating me. That was pretty cool. But what blew my mind was the meeting with the dean this afternoon. I couldn’t believe he called me in to discuss the appearance and my involvement with the Clinton campaign.”

“Are you in trouble?” Ritchie’s concerned expression made CJ shake his head.

“Nope. Not in trouble at all. The opposite.” CJ noticed his fathers relax―they had looked somewhat worried. “His assistant e-mailed me this morning and asked that I call the office. When I did, they told me the dean wanted to see me so I made an appointment for the afternoon.”

“What did he want?” Ritchie, as usual, peppered his brother with questions; he grew impatient whenever CJ took longer telling a story than the kid wanted.

“I’m getting to it, bro. He wanted to talk about my political activities and aspirations―”

“Quarter word!” Brett ducked to avoid the slap César aimed at the back of his head.

“Shut up, Papa. He recalled meeting me and the two of you”―CJ pointed at his fathers―”at the new student reception back in August. Fucker must have gone through my application and memorized it. He brought up some of the things I wrote on my essay. And the fact I had a letter of recommendation from President Bill Clinton.

“Then he mentioned watching last night. He said I’d done well. He also said I wasn’t only representing the candidate and myself whenever I made appearances. I’m supposedly representing Georgetown University too.”

“So, does he want you to do something specific? Or did he call you in just to kiss your ass?”

“You know something, Papa? Ozzie’s right. You’re nuts. And no, the dean didn’t ask me to do anything special. But I think he’s pleased with me. He offered me the use of the campus television facilities for any remote interviews. Means I don’t have to trek to the local studios or have a crew come here to the house.

“And get this. If any of my teachers give me trouble for missing a class now and then, I’m supposed to tell him. He’ll deal with them.”

“Mate, that’s awesome.”

“Will he also help if you decide to skip classes for the hell of it?”

“Oh, great. Another VIP added to CJ’s contacts list.”

CJ smirked at the comments from Ozzie, Ritchie, and César. “I saved the best for last, Dad. He wants to have dinner with you and Papa. He didn’t realize how close we lived to campus until today. I’m guessing he figured it out when he pulled up my records. Betcha he wants to recruit you guys to host some of those cocktail parties they have all the time.”

• • •

The next day CJ noticed a couple of fellow students looking at him during his first period―it was a large lecture hall and he had not met many people in this class. Walking out the door, a girl who identified herself as a reporter from The Voice stopped him.

“How’d you find me?” CJ shook hands with the girl after acknowledging he was the GU student on the FOX show.

“The SFS’ dean gave us a heads-up.”

If the dean of the School of Foreign Service had asked for a meeting with him, and then given his name and schedule to the school’s student newspaper, CJ figured the priest wanted to make a big deal about one of his students being so involved in the presidential campaign. Since he had a free hour before his next class, he accepted the offer of a cup of coffee and agreed to answer questions about his involvement with Robbie Mook and Hillary Clinton.

By the end of the week, after the article was published featuring a picture of him, the furtive looks and fleeting glances turned into smiles and greetings. It wasn’t a universal response, but it took place a couple of times in each class. Carson―the guy he helped move into the dorms back in August―texted him and insisted on having lunch on Friday.

“I can’t believe you, man. You never said you were a big shot in the Clinton campaign.” Carson sounded frustrated. “Jesus, CJ, you know I’m a political junkie! I’m in the School of Public Service, for Christ’s sake. The first guy I meet on campus is part of a presidential campaign, and you didn’t think I’d be interested in hearing about it?”

CJ was unable to hold back his chuckling. “Damn! Don’t sound so distressed, bud. I just don’t think of it as a big deal.”

“Not a big deal? Are you nuts? You said in the article you’ve been to the Clinton house here in Washington and that you’ve met President Clinton. Have you also met Obama? Or Bush?”

“Never met either of the Bushes―”

“You’ve met President Obama?” Carson’s shocked look made CJ chuckle again. “Have you been to the White House?”

CJ seemed to develop a sudden interest in his turkey wrap and took a bite.

“You have! You’ve been to the White House!”

“Geez, keep it down, Carson. People are staring. Yeah, so, my little brother goes to the same school Malia and Sasha Obama go to. He was invited to an event at the White House and I was his chauffeur.”

“Jesus Christ, CJ, hook a brother up. I’d kill for a chance to meet some of these people. I can only imagine what it was like being a delegate to the Democratic National Convention. I’m sooo jealous.”

“CJ!”

It was the first time he heard his name shouted out in public on campus and he wondered who the girl was. He had yet to meet many people because of his time constraints but she looked somewhat familiar.

“Boy, am I glad I ran into you. I don’t know if you remember me but we met once before. At the GU Pride meeting. I’m Gina Nichols. We joked about us being from as far away as you can get in the US. You being from Florida and me from Alaska.”

“Yeah! I remember you. You cut your hair?”

“Damn! I’m impressed you remember. I’m sorry. I’m being rude.” Gina gave Carson an apologetic smirk. “Do you mind if I sit down? I just want to ask CJ a couple of quick questions.”

Carson’s chocolate eyes seemed to shine a bit brighter. “Of course not! There’s always room for a beautiful lady at our lunch table.”

“Thanks, Romeo, but don’t get too excited. I’m a lesbian. And I don’t mess around with straight boys.” Gina’s teasing tone caused Carson’s jaw to drop and CJ to start laughing.

“Don’t look at me, bud,” CJ said when Carson stared at him. “I don’t do straight boys either.”

Gina shook her head and smiled at Carson before turning her eyes to CJ. “You have a boyfriend, don’t you?”

Carson looked even more shocked than before. “You’re gay?”

“Yep. A hundred percent. And yes, Gina, I have a boyfriend. That’s not a problem, is it, Carson?”

“Hell no! My ex-girlfriend’s brother’s gay. Cool guy and a pretty good friend. Don’t matter to me.”

“Ex-girlfriend?”

“Yeah, bitch dropped me right before I met you. She rode over here with me and my parents. And then had the balls to tell me it was over right before they headed back to Delaware.”

“So that’s why your eyes were all red when we met. I thought you were stoned.”

“I wish! Haven’t gotten my hands on any bud in the past two months.”

“We’ll talk later.” CJ winked at Carson and turned to Gina. “So what can I do for you, Ms. Alaska?”

“Talk later, my ass. You’re gonna get the straight boy stoned, aren’t you? Well, keep me out of it. I don’t care what you smoke but it’s not for me.” Gina bumped fists with Carson and they both stared at CJ.

“Fine, we’ll finish that conversation another time. So, what did you want to ask me, Gina?”

“Oh, yeah… Are you going to the debate on Sunday? I mean, are you going to be there in person?”

“Nope. The family tries to have dinner together a few nights a week and Sunday’s one of those days. I plan to watch at home. Why do you ask?”

“There’s a bunch of watch parties going on around campus. One’s sponsored by the Young Democrats. I’m an officer in the club. A couple of us were talking about you and thought it would be great to have you there.” She must have noticed CJ doubtful expression. “You don’t have to do anything special. We just thought it’d be good to have someone who’s met the candidates―”

“I’ve never met Trump!”

“Fine. Someone who’s met one of the candidates. And if you can show up a little early, maybe people would be able to ask questions about her or about the convention.”

“You mean have like a town hall meeting?”

“No, no, nothing so formal. Just hang out and if anyone wants to talk to you they can ask whatever they want.”

“I guess…” CJ nodded while looking at Carson. “What are you doing Sunday night, bud? Wanna watch the debate with a bunch of lefties?”

“Hell, yeah! I don’t care who’s gonna be there as long as you are. Remember I’m from Delaware, home of Vice-President Biden. We’re all fairly liberal. I have a gazillion questions for you. Nobody else may get to ask anything.”

“Cool. Gina, let me give you my number. Text me the place and time.”

“Excellent!” Gina already had her phone out. “And bring your boyfriend. I’d like to meet him. Is he also involved in the campaign?”

“Ummm, not really. I mean, he’s gone to a bunch of events with me but that’s about it. He’s not even an American citizen. He’s Australian.”

• • •

Owen refused to attend the debate watch party on Sunday. “You’ve been spending all your time with us, studying, or working for the campaign, mate. You need to meet more of the people you’ll be surrounded by the next four years. Go enjoy yourself.”

CJ did have a good time. He brought a joint with him and met Carson early in his dorm room. By the time they joined Gina, both guys were in a relaxed, happy mood. He enjoyed talking to everyone who approached him and answered questions about his experiences with the Clinton campaign over the past year. Throughout the night, Carson followed him around like a lost puppy, hanging on to every word CJ uttered.

“You know something, guys?” CJ said as he walked out at the end flanked by his two friends. “I had a great time tonight. Thanks for asking me to come, Gina.”

“My pleasure. Even though I’m ticked off you didn’t bring your boyfriend. I wanna meet this Owen you talked so much about tonight. Hell, I bet straight boy here is as curious as I am.”

“Tell you what, why don’t the two of you come to my house for the next debate? You can come early and have a home cooked meal. And my brother will be glad he’s not the sole straight boy at the house for a change.”

“Don’t exaggerate, CJ,” Carson said. “He already has your dad there. Your brother’s not the only straight guy in the house.”

“Oh, but he is, bud. He definitely is. We have two dads.” CJ chuckled at Carson’s reaction; the guy was once again surprised to no end.

CJ returned home later than he originally expected. Following his disclosure, he had to explain the household composition and dynamics to Gina and Carson. But it meant there would be no surprises concerning the family when his two friends met them. He was feeling mischievous though, and when they asked him about how to get to his house, he demurred. They made plans for CJ to pick them up at the university’s main entrance on the appointed day.

• • •

“Nice Jeep, CJ. How old is it?” Carson climbed in the back seat leaving the front for Gina.

“It’s old. It’s a 2009.”

“Thanks for picking us up, CJ. I want to give you some cash for gas. Okay? I know none of us have a lot as college students. Every penny helps.”

CJ wanted to laugh but he felt bad he was deceiving his new friends. “Thanks, Gina. That won’t be necessary.” He drove to the end of the street and made a left. “I feel bad now. I told you I was picking you up but I did it just to have some fun with you guys.” Half a block later he made a right turn into the driveway next to the house. “I wanted to make you think we had a long way to go. Hope you’re not disappointed. I think you can prolly find your way back to the dorms from here.”

“This is your place? This is where you live?” Carson sounded shocked. “Dude, you’re an asshole!”

“Yep, the dads call me the same thing all the time.” CJ hit the remote control for the garage door and watched as the gate rose and lights came on inside. “Why don’t you guys get out here? It’ll be easier than inside the garage. A bit cramped in there these days.”

“Jesus Christ, CJ. Motorcycles? A Cadillac SUV and a monster truck? What the hell, man? First you hold out on your political involvement, and now we find out you’re rich?”

“Hey! I ain’t rich! My dads do okay. But that’s them. It’s their house.”

Gina and Carson stared at the garage's contents until CJ shut the overhead door and asked them to follow him inside the house. They found Ritchie sitting at the breakfast bar doing homework but there was no sign of César or Brett. “Hey, guys, this is my brother, Ritchie. Bro, these are my friends, Gina and Carson. Where are the dads?”

“Hi. They’re downstairs playing pool. I kept an eye on everything like you asked me to. Nothing boiled over.”

“Good. Go ahead and set the table, would you?”

“I’ll help you, Ritchie.” Carson smiled at the kid and offered his fist to bump. “I know what it’s like to be the younger brother. We always get stuck with the chores.”

“How can I help, CJ?” Gina looked a little lost and kept staring around the room. “This place’s awesome. How big is the house?”

“Hang on. Let me text Ozzie and tell him to come over. I’ll give you guys a tour of the place later. The dads have the top floor. The whole thing’s their master bedroom. There’s two bedrooms on the second floor. Ritchie has one and the other one’s a guest room. And I have the basement. Well, one of the bedrooms down there. There’s three and a large game room. We’ll end up watching the debate down there. The TV’s bigger.”

“This place’s huge! So what can I do to help?”

“Do you guys drink wine?”

“I do!” Carson’s reply was quick.

“I do too,” Gina said. “But won’t your parents mind us being under age?”

“Nah, it’ll be fine. They even let Ritchie have some with dinner. And considering they left two bottles on the counter…” CJ pointed at the bottles of Liston Shiraz. “You want to open them for us? There should be a corkscrew in the last drawer.”

“These look fancy, CJ. Are you sure they’re meant for us?”

“Yeah, they’re not fancy at all. It’s the stuff we drink all the time.”

“I heard that!” Owen slammed the back door and stood staring at CJ. “I’m telling Jack you don’t think our wines are good enough to be considered fancy. You may not get your regular case next month.” Owen smirked at his boyfriend and then turned to the two people he had yet to meet. “Hi. I’m Owen.”

“Cool accent, man. I’m Carson. Who’s Jack? And what do you mean CJ may not get his monthly wine case?”

Owen seemed to enjoy the guy’s look of confusion. “Jack’s my grandfather. He sends us a case from the family winery every month. He’s always liked CJ but it may change now.” He focused his attention on Gina after shaking Carson’s hand. “You have to be Gina. Nice to meet you.”

“Same here. So is your name Owen or Ozzie? CJ’s used both. You gotta help me out. I’m a little confused by everything.”

“Then you’re in the right place! We’re always in a state of confusion in this house.” Brett’s greeting made everyone turn toward the stairs. “I’m Brett. One of the fathers. And the big guy behind me’s César, the other one.”

• • •

“I liked your friends.” Owen pulled the blanket and sheet back and slipped into his side of the bed. “Carson’s a bit intense. I thought he was going to pass out when he saw the pictures on the wall.”

CJ was reading on his tablet but put it on the nightstand when Owen crawled in next to him. “He was being a pain in my ass. I told him so. He wanted to know every single single detail behind every picture. I mean, it started with the politicians and then it was with every one of them.”

“You found your new Harley, mate. And this one idolizes you because he’s as much a politics freak as you.” Owen’s comment and accompanying chuckle earned him a slap to the arm.

“Nobody’s replacing Harley. Ever! So what do you think of Gina?”

“A little quiet. She seemed scared even.”

“Really? Scared? I noticed the quiet. And it was surprising. She’s been more talkative at school.”

“I have a feeling it’s all about money. I mean, I didn’t talk to her that much but I heard a little of her background. Working class family, at Georgetown thanks to scholarships and loans. She kept thanking me for the wine. I think it was a special treat for her. You should invite her over again. If nothing else, she might relax around us after a couple of decent meals.”

“I will. But Carson’s coming back sooner. I asked him to hang out with us on Saturday.”

“What’s going on Saturday?”

“The Cubs won tonight so the National League Championship series’ tied up at two games each. Since you have to win four games to take the title, it means at least two more games. One tomorrow and one Saturday night. If the Cubs win tomorrow at Dodger Stadium in LA, they can clinch the pennant at Wrigley Field on Saturday.”

• • •

Rod and Taisha were first to arrive at the Prospect Street townhouse. CJ’s cousin and fiancé had ordered several Chicago-style, deep-dish pizzas to help set the mood for the Cubs game. Soon after, Carson showed up and was accosted by Ritchie as soon as he walked in, demanding he play a game of pool. When Thiago and Nadine strolled into the basement, CJ threw up his hands in frustration. “What the heck’s going on here? This is a gay household and all of sudden I’m surrounded by straight people?”

“Suck it up, CJ. You’re the one who invited us, remember?” Taisha walked up to him and pinched his cheek while smiling.

“Yeah, CJ. What she said. I’m sure us poor straight people will be in the minority soon enough. We always are around here.” Thiago looked at Ritchie and winked at him. “Just think how your brother feels. He has to deal with you, Ozzie, César, and Brett all the time.”

“And Uncle Tom, Uncle JP, and Patrick! Even Brad abandoned me when he enlisted.” Ritchie’s whining earned him a withering stare from his brother.

“Go right ahead and complain, bro. See if you get to ride with any of us next time we take out the motorcycles.”

Carson leaned against the back wall, paying attention to the banter but not saying anything. When Rod nudged him with an elbow, he seemed to snap out of a daze. “You okay, kid?”

“Oh, yeah, sorry. Just spacing out listening to you guys. I saw pictures of all of you on the wall in the other room before but―”

“You mean CJ’s ego wall?”

“Hey! I can hear you, you know? Don’t be a douche, cuz.”

“You’re the one who has to be in every picture, CJ. Don’t tell me that’s not your ego showing.”

“Bullshit! The dads were the ones who asked me to hang the first batch of pictures.”

“Yeah? And what about since then?”

CJ snickered and lowered his head. “I don’t know… Afterwards, it just kinda grew on its own.”

“See, Carson? It’s all about my little cousin showing off how popular he is.”

“Fuck you, cuz.”

“I don’t know, Rod.” Carson shook his head and grinned. “If I’d met all those famous people and had such an interesting family and group of friends, I’d be hanging the pictures on my dorm room walls too.”

“We are a motley crew, aren’t we?”

“It’s not that. It’s I’ve never been around so many gay men before. And I don’t have any close friends who’re African-American. I grew up in this lily-white, heterosexual world and I’m enjoying the change. I knew coming to a school like Georgetown I’d be exposed to a variety of people. This is way beyond anything I expected. And it’s not even in school. I’m glad CJ helped me move into my dorm when I got here. He was the first person I met on campus and I think I got real lucky.”

“Let’s see if you feel the same way after this campaign shit’s over. And if he ends up doing some modeling with Chipper and Ozzie, he’s gonna be impossible to live with.”

“Is Chipper the guy in the picture with CJ and Ozzie? The one they’re all shirtless in sitting in front of a restaurant?”

Rod nodded in confirmation. “Yep, that’s the one. Hey, CJ. You talked to Chipper recently? Have any of you talked to the photographer again?”

“I haven’t. But Chipper and Ozzie have traded e-mails with him. I told him not to bother me until after the election and he’s kept his distance.”

“So what did Ozzie and Chipper tell him? Are they going to do any modeling?”

“Not sure. They told him they wanted to wait ’til I was ready to make a decision. Ozzie and I talked to JP about it since he did photo shoots and runway work when he was in college. He said it was fun and easy money.”

“Right, like you need the money. So are you thinking about doing it?”

“Maybe… It depends on timing and what he wants the photos for. But I think it’d be cool to do it at least once. You know, kinda like a different experience.”

After five innings, the Cubs led the Dodgers five runs to none and the mood in the basement of the townhouse was celebratory. Rod had brought a bag with him but refused to reveal its contents. “Hey, CJ, get ready, cuz. We need to run outside as soon as the game’s over.”

“What for?”

“Looks like our Cubbies are going to the World Series and we’re going to show our support.”

“Ooo kaaay. You’re not gonna get me arrested, are you?”

“Nah! So, should I tell Randy you’re coming to Chicago with me? The first two games are in Cleveland but then we have at least two at Wrigley.”

“Oh, man…” CJ glanced at his fathers. César smiled and shrugged while Brett winked. “I don’t think so. SHIT! I can’t fucking believe I’m turning down the chance to watch a World Series game. But I can’t afford to miss school. I’m already skipping enough classes because of the campaign. And that means extra work to keep up. How do you know your brother will get tickets anyway?”

“The gay mafia.”

“The what?”

“The gay mafia. How do you think he always scores great seats? There’s a gay guy, friend of Randy and Ty, who works for the Cubs front office. My brother and his husband have all these connections in the gay community and they all take care of each other.”

Shouts of “Cubs win! Cubs win!” and “Fly the W! Fly the W!” reverberated when the game ended and the Chicago team was World Series bound.

“Come on, cuz. Let’s go fly the W.” Rod opened up the mystery bag and withdrew a large white flag with a blue W on it. A short time later, it fluttered in the wind below the American flag, illuminated by a spotlight aimed at the top of the flagpole.

Ten days later, Ritchie and CJ hoisted it once again. The Chicago Cubs had won the World Series, 108 years after they had last done so.