Over The Rainbow - Georgetown Book II - 6. Over The Rainbow • Part VI

Earlier in the month, CJ’s fathers informed him they would be traveling to Philadelphia with Tom and JP the first weekend in June. The two couples planned to attend the Penn Mutual College Rugby7s Championship where the University of California Golden Bears were participants. César made it clear CJ and Owen could not join them; they had to stay home with Ritchie who would be in the midst of final exams at Sidwell Friends School. Although he complained at first, in the end it was not hard to acquiesce to his father’s demands. The younger couple had their own plans to be in the City of Brotherly Love over the long Memorial Day Weekend.

Over time, CJ and Owen accumulated an adequate wardrobe in the New York City apartment; these days they could travel with a Dopp kit inside their backpack and not much else. For their trip with Owen’s parents, they carried a rolling suitcase that remained unopened until they checked into the Philadelphia Marriott Downtown on Thursday. It held their clothing for a weekend with a group of gay jocks.

The Philadelphia Gryphons Rugby Football Club was hosting the Eastern North American Regional International Gay Rugby Tournament. The IGR Colonial Cup was as much a sporting event as a social gathering of the tribes. The initial meet and greet was held at Boxers PHL, a gay sports bar, and each subsequent night saw participants and supporters gather at a different location. One of those took place at The Bike Stop, the leather bar CJ had visited during the Democratic Party convention. He looked for the guy he had met then, but Matt was not part of the large group of locals. Alcohol consumption was high as was always the case when a bunch of gay rugby players decided to party.

Returning to Washington on Sunday afternoon, Owen made it clear his playtime would be limited over the next two months; he had the bar exam to study for.

• • •

“Damn, it’s good to have you back.” CJ held on to Owen’s hand as they exited the Metro’s Dupont Circle Station and were jostled by the crowd.

“What are you talking about, CJ? What do you mean having me back? I can’t even remember the last time we didn’t sleep together.” They were on their way to a pride parade pre-party at a Scandals’ player’s apartment building rooftop terrace.

“Dude, I’ve barely seen you since we returned from Philly without your reading glasses on and your nose stuck in a book!” CJ had felt lost the past week; he did not have much to do while Owen stuck to a strict schedule of studying during daylight hours and sometimes late into the night.

“Don’t exaggerate, okay? I go to the gym every day and you and I have gone running together three times this week.”

“Whatever! Now I know what you felt like last year when I was on the campaign trail for Clinton.”

Near three in the afternoon, CJ received a text from his brother; Ritchie and Patrick had found a spot on the parade route and were letting him know where. The two young guys came with their fathers, Dr. Matt Calhoun, his partner Dasan Turner, and Chipper Pereira who had arrived the previous week from Miami. CJ had not seen much of his friend since the budding musician worked nights and slept late in the day.

“You should start playing with us.” Tank handed him a beer and CJ rolled his eyes; it was going to be a long day of drinking.

“No way, man. This is Ozzie’s thing. We don’t want to turn into one of those clingy couples who do everything together. It’s good for us to have our own interests.”

“Fine, then let’s find something else for Ozzie to have as his. We put another ten pounds of muscle on you and you’d be a killer on the pitch. He may be taller, but you’re wider.”

“Dude! That would put me over two hundred pounds. My clothes might not even fit. Tell you what, let’s see what happens after he’s done with the bar exam. I’ll talk to him then. I’m not promising anything though.”

The players wore team jerseys for the parade; some geared up with pads while non-playing boyfriends and supporters donned Scandals t-shirts and tank tops. During the parade, they did lineouts, scrums, and tossed the ball back and forth to each other and at times to spectators. Tank made it a point of lobbing it to Ritchie when they heard him screaming out CJ’s and Owen’s names.

“Where’s everybody else?” Ritchie glanced behind his brother and future brother-in-law when they joined him and the rest of the family after reaching the end of the parade route.

Owen draped an arm around Ritchie and Patrick while CJ did the same with Chipper. “Most of them went to DIK Bar, mate. To watch the rest of the parade from the second floor balcony.”

“We came by to say hello and to steal Chipper, bro. He has to work tonight so we want to hang out. Ozzie and I plan on staying out with the team, though.” CJ ruffled his brother’s hair and winked at his fathers. “Don’t wait up.”

• • •

Monday morning, CJ exchanged the solo seat on the motorcycle and replaced it with one allowing for a passenger. Ritchie held on to his brother’s waist as they rode into Virginia towards Manassas Regional Airport. Brett had kept his promise; Ritchie would be taking flying lessons over the next two months, intent on becoming a private pilot. He would have to wait a year to do solo flights and two until he could obtain his license, but the kid was itching to begin his training.

“And what is your relationship to the student, Mr. Abelló?” The man’s question was expected; it was not the first time someone brought up the fact the brothers did not share a surname.

“He’s my younger brother.” Reaching into his backpack, he retrieved an envelope; César anticipated the situation and sent his sons out armed with a stack of documents. The most significant one was a notarized affidavit where he and Brett granted CJ authority to act on their behalf as legal guardians for Richard Leonard Peterson.

Irvin Tizard, flight instructor and the person doing the intake, perused the stack of papers before raising his eyes and smiling. “You came prepared, didn’t you?”

“Yeah, our dad’s an accountant and tends to be over-organized.” After all the appropriate forms were completed and signed, he used a credit card to pay for the almost ten thousand dollar course.

Since Ritchie was unable to drive, CJ struck a bargain with his brother: he would serve as chauffeur three mornings a week as long as Ritchie woke early enough to go to the gym with him. The dads gave the boy a membership to Yates Field House on the campus of Georgetown University as a present and CJ wanted him to bulk up. It would help with his boxing and hopefully start Ritchie on a continuing exercise regimen.

The fathers also helped Ritchie land a position as a volunteer at the National Air and Space Museum at the National Mall using the connections made over years as generous supporters of the Smithsonian. Ritchie was not going away to summer camp and they wanted to ensure the kid had enough to keep him busy and out of trouble.

• • •

June 2017 marked the 150th birthday of American architect Frank Lloyd Wright. In honor of his achievements, ranging from Fallingwater to the Solomon R. Guggenheim Museum―both favorites amongst the Wright structures CJ had visited over the past few years―Washington D.C.’s National Building Museum hosted a hands-on coloring space, called “Wright on the Walls.”

In the exhibition gallery, an interactive, large-scale, coloring book featured a selection of Wright’s works. In order to create it, two local artists focused on Wright’s residential and commercial works as well as his houses of worship, automobile culture, and decorative details. They created pencil drawings of several structures, which were enlarged and hung on the walls. Visitors were asked not to bring their own coloring supplies; washable, dry-erase markers were made available at the exhibition.

“This is kind of cool, CJ. I think I’d like to see the waterfall house in person.” The brothers stood side by side, in front of a drawing of Tokyo’s Imperial Hotel which was demolished in the late sixties according to the information tag. CJ pointed out signature Wright details while they applied garish colors to the drawing.

“I’d love to go back, bro. Maybe we can talk Ozzie into an overnight trip there one weekend. He promised to close the books on Saturdays and Sundays. A motorcycle ride to Pennsylvania would be a great way to help him relax.”

• • •

The last Friday of the month, CJ drove Ritchie to his lessons; once finished, the brothers headed to Washington National Airport. Unlike during most trips there, they parked and walked into the arrivals area. Since they were picking up a minor, CJ was ready to show his ID when a flight attendant escorted Silas Washington to the area beyond the security checkpoint.

“Thanks for inviting me to come visit, Ritchie.” The two kids became friends the previous year and remained in regular contact. They were close enough in age they could relate to each other even if Silas was black and gay while Ritchie was white and straight.

“Dude, you have to thank my brother. CJ’s the one who convinced Randy and Ty to let you come visit on your own. Rod and Taisha also helped.” CJ’s cousin, Randall Abelló, and his husband Tyler Scott, took Silas in as an emergency placement after the kid was savagely beaten by his father when he found out his son was gay. The temporary arrangement was formalized when the boy’s parents relinquished their parental rights after being unwilling to accept his sexual orientation. Silas was now Randy and Ty’s foster son.

CJ waited while the boys bumped fists and greeted each other. When Silas turned to look at him, CJ spread his arms inviting him in for a hug. “Welcome to Washington, Silas. Do you have your phone with you? Text or call my cousins so they know you arrived without any problems.”

“What the fuck, CJ? You’re starting to sound like the dads with the ‘call when you arrive’ shit!”

CJ looked around them to make sure no one was near enough to hear. “Watch your mouth, asshole. What you doing cussing like a sailor while we’re in public? You keep it up I’m gonna have to fuck you up.” He grinned while using foul language on purpose. He would repeat the admonition a bit later in a more serious tone. He stressed to both that while at home it was fine to use such language, it was not appropriate when strangers could hear them.

• • •

“GET READY, SILAS. BIG ONE COMING UP!” Rod’s warning came a fraction of a second before the guide steered the inflatable boat around the latest set of rapids. The roar of the water crashing against the rocks muffled his shout while a fine spray doused the vessel’s occupants. The sun struck the flying droplets in mid-air creating ephemeral rainbows all around.

“Yee haw!” Once past that particular section, the river widened and slowed. Ritchie raised his arms, holding an oar aloft in a sign of victory while staring at Silas and Patrick. “Holy cow, that was insane!”

“Shut up and paddle, mate. You pull your weight or I’m tossing you over.” Because of the Fourth of July holiday on Tuesday, Owen agreed to take four days off from studying and join the small group white water rafting in West Virginia. He and CJ had fallen in love with the Mountaineer State’s natural beauty during their first trip and had become regular visitors.

CJ loosened the death grip he had on the paddle and reached with one hand to massage a knot in his shoulders. After meeting Jason, their guide for the trip, he decided to speak with either Tank or Sean and ask for help revamping his lifting routine. He was in excellent shape but Jason’s lats made him feel puny. He realized the Viking lookalike―who Ritchie and Silas nicknamed Thor after commenting on his muscles, blonde hair, and beard―owed a lot of his muscular development to hours spent rowing. Nevertheless, CJ planned to increase the attention he paid to his back and shoulders.

“Watch it, Oz. If anyone’s going to toss the twerp over the side, it’s gonna be me. That’s what big brothers are for.”

“There will be no tossing anyone in the water. Don’t make me take out my hammer. You should not anger the god of thunder and lightning.” The guide had a good sense of humor; he went along with the Thor thing and seemed to be enjoying himself.

Some hours after entering the river, they reached their campsite for the evening. Discarding the life vests, the guys collapsed on the banks of the stream while Jason secured the boats. After catching their breath, they went about setting up camp. While some were busy erecting tents, Patrick sent Silas and Ritchie to scavenge for firewood while he built a ring of rocks to contain the flames.

“I have something that will make it easier.” CJ reached into his pocket, retrieved a small waterproof container, and held a disposable lighter out.

“Thanks, CJ. But Silas wants to learn how to start a fire this way.” Patrick nodded towards the Swiss Army knife and shoelace he was using to create a small bow. “Ritchie told him about how we did it last year when we were away at camp. Not sure how much use he’ll get out of this back home in Chicago, but I’m happy to teach him. I kinda miss not being a counselor this year. I like working with kids.”

“Whatever, man. Too much work if you ask me. I think I’m ready to kick back and chillax.” Moments later, the aroma of cannabis perfumed the air.

• • •

The group returned to Washington on July third. The following day they were on the water once again. This time sailing on the Potomac River aboard the PP. Back home in the evening, Brett grilled burgers and dogs. The beer and wine flowed, and they watched the fireworks display from the roof deck.

Ritchie’s fifteenth birthday was on Friday and since he spent the week enjoying himself with CJ and Silas, he was content with a simple family meal and going out to a movie. There was one more birthday related event but he would have to share the spotlight.

Two thousand seventeen was the twentieth anniversary of the release of the first Harry Potter book. In honor of the milestone, the movie based on the initial book in the series was screened at Wolf Trap National Park for the Performing Arts. The film’s musical soundtrack played live by the National Symphony Orchestra. CJ and Owen purchased six tickets for the event, thinking of inviting friends to go with them. When Silas’ visit was planned, they decided to take him and Ritchie instead. The birthday boy was encouraged to invite two other friends to tag along.

“Thanks, CJ!”

“What for, bro?” CJ glanced at his brother in the rearview mirror. “You have to thank Ozzie too if it’s for the tickets. He’s the one who bought them.”

“I already did. I’m saying thank you for convincing Mr. and Mrs. Wilkinson to let Lucy and Charlotte come with.” They had borrowed César’s larger vehicle and were on their way to Harley’s house.

“Mate, all he had to do was mention it and they agreed. You forget your brother’s their son’s best friend. They trust CJ.”

“That’s the motorcycle guy, right? Harley?” Silas was still trying to get used to the Squad and Elite members Ritchie kept talking about as if they were relatives.

“That’s right, Silas. Harley and I met my first day at Walls and we’ve been friends since. I guess his parents have known me for so long they figured I’d keep their daughters safe from you two sex maniacs.”

“Hey, they’re safe with me no matter what. It’s Ritchie they have to worry about.” The teens bumped fists while CJ shook his head. The shy boy he met the previous year was not quite so shy anymore. He was happy to notice the change and had mentioned it to his dads. They agreed with him and credited Randy and Ty for being a good influence. They also pointed out enough time had elapsed since the boy was hurt and then disavowed by his parents; his true self was emerging.

While the others remained in the car, CJ walked to the Wilkinson’s front door to collect the girls. He promised their parents to take good care of them while they thanked him for being so kind to their daughters.

CJ had seen Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone countless times; the story was still engaging but this evening his attention was riveted on the orchestra. His appreciation of orchestral music had grown over the years as his fathers took him to the Kennedy Center for performances by the NSO. He loudly cheered and applauded at the conclusion of the film.

“Thank you for taking us to the movies, Mr. Abelló. That was fun.” Thirteen-year-old Charlotte Wilkinson sat next to Silas behind the front seats while her sister Lucy was in the last row with Ritchie.

“You’re welcome, Charlotte. However, if you call me Mr. Abelló one more time I’m never taking you anywhere again. That’s my father or my grandfather, not me. Remember, I’m your brother’s friend and we’re the same age. Harley’s like my brother so you should just call me CJ.”

“Can we call you Uncle CJ then?” Lucy Wilkinson’s request—uttered in a teasing tone—made CJ cringe. Was this how Dragon felt when he called him uncle? The girl was two weeks younger than Ritchie and the two of them seemed to have a bad case of puppy love. He had to be careful in case it developed into something else. Her giggling suggested she was not serious.

“You do and I’ll make sure your parents ground you for the rest of your life, young lady.” His mock stern tone brought a renewed bout of giggles.

• • •

Dash began forwarding CJ and Owen real estate listings on a regular basis after they discussed buying property in Washington. The most recent batch contained two houses that appealed to CJ; when he shared the details of them with Owen, they decided to go see them in person. They called the realtor and arranged to meet on Saturday. They also reached out to Gray Young and asked him to come with them. Both properties were located in the Capitol Hill neighborhood.

“This community could be called the largest in DC.” Dash was behind the wheel with CJ in the passenger seat while Owen and Gray sat in back. “The area is home to many great places, from Eastern Market to Barracks Row to Union Station, and it also has some of the best historic architecture in the city.”

“I like that. A lot.” CJ was enthusiastic in his nodding. “Hey, I read somewhere Capitol Hill was once called something else?”

“Jenkins Hill. Pierre L’Enfant decided that it would be a good location for the Congress House. Before you knew it, it became the center of residential development in the city. It was a mixed-income neighborhood during most of the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. Drugs hit the fringes hard in the 1980s. As recent as 2000, crime was out of control in some areas.”

“It’s not like that still, is it?” Owen was not as familiar with the different areas of Washington as CJ who had done a lot of exploring since he started visiting his dad while still living in Miami.

“Nope. The area’s bounced back for the most part. And I think it’ll get even better.” Gray was looking at the Multiple Listing Service printouts Dasan had handed them. “I worked on a couple of jobs in the area before I hooked up with Leo and ended up on Third Line Development projects all the time.”

“So what’s it like now?”

“You guys would enjoy living here. I think it has to be one of the District’s most diverse.”

“I agree with Gray.” Dasan slowed down at the end of a row of houses. “Okay, here’s the first one. And as far as the diversity goes, you have empty nesters, long-time residents, recent college grads, families with small children, and Hill staffers all in the mix. Those working at the Capitol would be a good target audience for renting. Even if it’s a group of them sharing the place.”

They exited the car and stood on the sidewalk, staring at a row of identical red brick townhouses. The one they strolled towards stood out because of the bright blue window shutters and a cheery yellow door. Built in 1860, the four bedroom, three bathroom home was impeccable inside. The house retained its charm and character but had been updated in the recent past. It appeared ready to welcome new owners and residents.

“Okay, next one’s across the street and a couple of doors down.” Dasan replaced the house key in the lockbox around the door handle and started walking away.

The second property suffered when compared to the other one but CJ saw a lot of potential. It was long and narrow, an alley running along one side and in back, with a courtyard separating it from the neighbors on the other one. It reminded him of his parents’ place. The top three floors each held two bedrooms, a full bathroom, and a sitting area with a bay window facing the street. The first floor was living space. A carriage house in back had an open ground floor and a loft apartment upstairs.

A bronze plaque with the address―mounted beside the front door―proclaimed the property to be part of the Capitol Hill Historic District and touted the neighborhood’s placement in the National Register of Historic Places. CJ crawled all over the place, inspecting every nook and cranny and often running his hands over the flaking paint on the millwork. He listened to Dasan, Owen, and Gray talk but refrained from saying much during the tour or on the drive back to Georgetown. The smile, however, never left his face.

“Okay, CJ, sit rep.” Brett’s comment drew a questioning look from Gray. The group sat at the breakfast bar while César passed around beer bottles.

“It means situation report, Gray. I guess Papa’s doing his Marine Corps thing today.” CJ glanced at Owen who gave him a wink; his boyfriend was letting him do the talking for now. “The first one’s in perfect condition but I think Ozzie’s with me on this. I really, really liked the second one.

“We walked around the property before going inside. There’s two pine trees on the postage stamp lawn that have to go. The outside’s brick and it needs to be pressure cleaned or sand blasted and then painted. The side yard’s a mess, it needs some serious landscaping. I can picture some sort of water feature there too. In the back there’s a wooden fence missing some slats. It looks like a smile minus a few teeth.”

“That doesn’t sound too bad. How’s the inside?”

“Wait, one last thing on the outside. Gray spent the whole time tapping wood all over. There’s a balcony along the upstairs apartment in the carriage house. Great spot to sit and relax but some of the railing has rot and will need replacing. Oh, and the front door needs to be stripped and repainted too. It has big glass inserts we might want to change if we keep the door. They’re clear and at a minimum, I’d want them to be frosted. Maybe even clear stained glass. I don’t know what you call it.”

“I know what you mean. Stained glass without the color. Or textured glass might be a possibility.”

“Yeah! That’s what I was thinking. The inside’s filthy. I’d take a hose to it. And the entire thing needs serious paint. The bathrooms need updating, same as the kitchen. They look tired and dated. But, dads, the place has so much potential!

“When we first talked to Dash, I also called the investment manager at the bank and asked him to start liquidating some of the portfolio I already control. I wanted to accumulate cash so I’d be ready when we decided to make an offer. Dad knows about this. Anyway, I’m going to give Dash a check for 250 thousand. As a deposit for the offer.”

Brett’s eyebrows rose until his forehead corduroyed. “You made an offer?”

Owen and Gray chuckled while CJ rolled his eyes. “Of course not, Papa. I want you and Dad to see it before I do. Dash has the keys and the house’s empty. How soon can you get ready to go check it out?”

“You mean like right now?”

“Hell, yeah. I’m leaving town for fifteen days next week. I’ll sign whatever papers I have to so we can get started with inspections and shit. Oh, and I want Tyler to fly in from Chicago and take a look at it. Let’s get out of here.”

Brett kept a running commentary sharing his thoughts about the house, but César walked around not saying much. The second look by CJ and Owen had them talking about potential changes and colors while Dasan answered question from the fathers. At the end of the tour, César suggested going somewhere for a drink.

“You’ve been real quiet, Dad. What do you think?”

“It does have potential. I was listening to what you and Ozzie were talking about and what Dash had to say. I hope you realize it’s going to cost some serious bucks to get it to what you guys envision. And that’s before you go furnishing such a big place. I didn’t want to talk about this when Dash and Gray were with us but we need to discuss financing and ownership.”

“What do you mean? Anyway, I don’t think we have to worry about furniture if we’re going to rent the place out. Even after we move in, some of those extra bedrooms can remain empty. Plus, we don’t have to make any big changes right now. Those can be done over time. Like when the place’s between renters.”

“That would spread the cost out. But have you thought about financing and mortgage payments?”

“Ummm, not in detail. Dash ran some quick numbers for me assuming I do one million as a down payment. The income from my trust fund will cover the payments real easy.”

“We can talk about it but maybe Brett and I can finance it for you. It would be easier and cheaper. Now, about how to title it.”

“Yeah, about that. I talked to Rachel about it. She thought I should bring it up with the immigration attorney. Unless he thinks it would hurt Ozzie’s application for residency, we’ll put both our names on it.”

César took his time replying. He glanced at the three men sitting with him while taking a sip from his Coke. “I haven’t brought this up before but now may be the right time. It’s something I’ve been thinking about since you got engaged. We need to discuss the prenup and how we want to structure it.”

CJ’s brow furrowed as he stared at his dads. “What prenup? We don’t need one of those.”

“Yes you do, CJ. Both of you do.” César stared at the younger men in turn while Brett busied himself stabbing his milkshake with a drinking straw. “Brett and I talked about it with Ozzie’s parents when they were in town and they agreed with us.”

“Wait a minute, César. You talked about this with Mum and Dad and they didn’t say anything to me? I’m not sure I like that. Don’t you think CJ and I should have been involved in the conversation?” Owen had been quiet up until this point but he did not sound pleased with the revelation. He looked and sounded ready to jump all over his future father-in-law.

“You are. We’re having the conversation right now. CJ has a healthy trust fund and you have an interest in the family business. A prenuptial agreement would protect both of you in case things don’t work out.”

“What things don’t work out?” CJ didn’t like the path the conversation was following. “It ain’t gonna happen, Dad. I’m not signing any stupid agreement. The day we get married, we get married. It ain’t going to be a trial period thing. We get married, we own everything together.” CJ was becoming agitated and his volume rose. He felt as if Owen and Brett weren’t there. This was between his dad and him and he was ready for an argument and a fight if necessary.

“That’s not a good idea, CJ. Both of you are young and have significant assets. It’s common practice―”

“Common practice my ass, Dad. This is you and your fucking accountant thinking. Ozzie and I are getting married next year. We will NOT sign a prenuptial agreement before. End of discussion.”

Owen looked uncomfortable and kept shifting in his seat while Brett shook his head and chuckled. “Told ya he wouldn’t go for it.”

“You were in on this bullshit, Papa?”

Brett raised a hand in surrender. “Don’t look at me, dude. I’ve been part of the discussions, but I’ve never said I agreed. I told your father you’d balk at it.”

“Damn bloody right I’m going to balk. The two of you didn’t sign anything like that when you got married. Neither are we.” CJ glanced at Owen to ensure they were on the same page. His fiancé gave him a nod.

“It’s different, CJ. Brett and I were together for years before we married. Our finances were already intertwined. It didn’t happen overnight. It took ages for us to get there.”

“That’s fine, Dad. Sorry you couldn’t marry when you first got together. But things change. Anyway, let’s talk about something else, okay? I’m excited about the house and I don’t want to get pissed off.”

“CJ, you’re being childish. At your age―”

“Stop it the fuck right now, Dad! Don’t you dare say I’m too young. I’m nineteen and I’m an adult. I get to decide what I want to happen to my money.”

“A lot of that money is tied up in your trust. Brett and I still have control over it.”

CJ fumed. He looked around and decided this was not the place to scream even if that was what he felt like doing. “You know what? I don’t want to talk to you anymore right now. About anything! Come on, Ozzie. We’ll call a taxi or Uber and head home.”

“You claim you’re an adult but you want to run away now? Geoff and Pam agreed with me on this matter. We all think it’s best.”

CJ had stood, ready to leave, but sat again and glared at his father. His angry tone, lower volume, and slow delivery elicited looks of surprise. This wasn’t the easygoing persona he usually exhibited. “And that’s what’s wrong with this whole thing. You think it’s the thing to do and I disagree. You have no right to―” CJ raised a hand when César made to speak. “NO, let me finish. You have no right to make decisions for us. You and Papa may still have some say over my trust fund but I control enough money on my own. If you’re threatening me with taking it away, then you can shove it up your ass. We don’t need it. Hell, I’ll give you back what I do manage already. Maybe we won’t be able to buy the house. That’s fine with me.

“You keep talking about this, you’re gonna piss me off big time. More than I am already. There’s no fucking way I’m signing a prenup and that’s final. And if you disagree, I can always move to the dorms and then get a job and an apartment. Is that what you want? Because I’m about ready to tell you to fuck off.”

“CJ…”

“I’m sorry, Ozzie. Sorry my dad’s being an asshole. Sorry your parents were involved in this. And sorry we may not get to have the nice wedding or the big house. But unless Dad gets his shit together, I’m ready to elope and move out.”

• • •

“How long do you think the ice age will last?”

“What are you talking about, Jarhead?” César sounded distracted and confused.

“You and CJ, of course.”

“Don’t be an ass, okay? I’m already upset enough. That boy’s being a pain.”

Brett pushed on César’s shoulders until the back of his legs hit the bed. “Sit! That man may be a pain but so are you. What the fuck are you doing? We’ve taught him to stand on his own. We’ve encouraged him to make his own decisions. Which―if I may add―have been sound ones for the most part. And now you go and pull the rug out from under him because he doesn’t want to do what you want him to?”

“It’s not the same! This involves millions of dollars.”

“He’s right, you know? You’re such a fucking accountant! What the hell difference does it make? So what if they don’t last? They will last. For the sake of argument, say they don’t. They divorce and reach a settlement that may cost CJ some money. We have millions more.

“When you found out how much I had, we made a deal we’d never allow it to interfere in our relationship. But you are allowing it to interfere in CJ’s and Ozzie’s lives. Not everything’s a balance sheet, babe. You know I don’t give a shit about money. And in case you haven’t noticed, neither does our son. Yeah, he spends it and likes good things. Although most of his larger purchases have been presents for others.

“And now, when he wants to buy something big, when he’s excited about taking control of his finances you have to be a douche bag. Did you have to bring that shit up today? When he and Ozzie are all excited about their future home? You better fix this. In principle, I agree a prenup would be the smart way to go but I’m not pushing it. If he sticks to his guns… well then, good for him. I’m taking his side on this one.”