Goodnight, My Angel - Georgeotown Book IV - 6. GMA VI

“FUCK!” CJ’s monumental hangover the morning after was momentarily forgotten when he stubbed his toe on the toilet. On the way to the kitchen, he peeked at the thermostat and lowered the setting. The apartment was too warm; his body felt clammy. He cracked a window and stood in front of it allowing the chilly air to cool him.

Before his friends poured him into a cab the previous evening, CJ had vomited in the gutter to the applause of people he immediately added to his must kill list. Owen wiped his husband’s mouth with a handkerchief and discarded it in the same sewer drain. Once home, he forced CJ to swallow aspirins and drink a bottle of water before helping him get undressed and into bed.

“Happy birthday, bro. You look like crap.” Ritchie and Silas, wearing nothing but shorts, stared at the television set with bowls of cereal in their hands. “And you’re naked.”

“That’s because you guys turned the heat on so high I woke up sweating.” CJ scratched his balls, sniffed his fingers, and tried to shove the middle one under his brother’s nose.

“Ugh! Get that hand away from my face. You’re disgusting!” Ritchie shook his head as Silas inched away from him, most likely afraid of being the next target. The Chicago teen, however, allowed his gaze to linger on CJ’s mid-section. It was not the first time CJ had noticed the interest; he ignored it.

“Happy birthday, CJ. We made coffee,” Silas said. “Figured you guys would want some this morning.”

“Yeah!” Ritchie added. “But considering it’s so late, not much morning left. What time did you guys get in anyway?”

“Ummm, not sure. I don’t remember much after I threw up.”

“You barfed? Holy cow, CJ. I would have loved to see you that drunk. What happened?”

“Alcohol happened. Too much of it.” CJ filled a mug and sighed after the first sip. “You know we started drinking in the afternoon. By the time we got to the bar, we were already tipsy. Then, even though my drinks were on the house, complete strangers started buying me shots after midnight. I’m never drinking again.”

“Yeah, right. I’ve heard Randy and Ty say the same thing mornings after going out with friends. You’ll be back at it tonight. Like they always do.” Silas watched as CJ dropped his naked butt on an armchair; his eyes followed each movement, rested on CJ’s penis for a fraction of a moment, and settled on the raised, angry-looking skin around the new ink. “Does it hurt?” He pointed at the man’s hip.

“Like a motherfucker.” CJ glanced downwards and rubbed a finger over the ridges of the tattoo.

“It’s gonna look awesome after it heals.” Ritchie placed his empty bowl on the coffee table. “But you look funny as shit right now with half your ass and your thigh shaved. You didn’t act like you were suffering yesterday.”

“That’s ’cause I wasn’t. All the alcohol dulled the pain.”

“Then you should just stay drunk today.”

“Whatever… I’m going to wake Ozzie up and shower. We can talk about food after. I need grease and carbs to soak up whatever booze’s left in my stomach.”

“Tell them about standing on the bar and dropping your pants.” Owen did not stop on his way to the kitchen. “I need coffee.”

“I did no such thing!” CJ tried to recall what transpired, but there were gaps in his memory. He certainly would remember getting naked in public.

“Did too…” The first sip of caffeine seemed to sharpen Owen’s tongue. “There’s probably a bunch of pictures on social media already. At least I convinced you to keep the jockstrap on.”

The expression rolling on the floor laughing came alive as Ritchie fell off the couch clutching his sides. “Epic, bro! You know those will show up the day you run for office. Ozzie, did you snap one? Or do I have to start calling the rest of the guys?”

“Fuck you, Ritchie.” CJ hoped it was not as bad as it sounded. “Silas, text your dads. Tell them we’ll be at Lexington Candy Shop. It’s on Lex and Eighty-third if they want to join us. Tell them to let everybody else know too.”

Nobody was interested. Everyone begged off claiming tiredness and a desire to rest prior to going out in the evening. CJ and Owen ended up taking the teens to lunch and to Central Park after. Harley and Thiago, sharing the second master bedroom, joined them—Harley could always eat.

Ritchie wanted to show Silas the old-fashioned carousel, and all six ended up acting like kids while riding the wooden horses. They made it to the Central Park Zoo to watch the afternoon penguin feeding, and listened to a husker playing near The Plaza Hotel while nibbling on mustard-covered, hot, soft pretzels. Back in the apartment, CJ, Owen, Harley, and Thiago napped, while Ritchie and Silas battled each other on the game console.

The frigid, overcast afternoon presaged evening snow. White flecked their outer garments the moment they stepped from under the front awning. By the time they reached their destination twenty minutes later, the light dusting had become flurries.

“You should have hired Clive to take a picture of all twenty-one of us, CJ.” Chipper handed his overcoat to the attendant and pocketed the claim ticket. He adjusted the knot on his necktie and smoothed his jacket lapels, brushing off imaginary lint. “Except for my sister’s wedding, the last time you, Ozzie, and I wore suits at the same time was during that photoshoot with him. How the heck often do we get dressed up like this and look this good?”

“Dude, you do look great. You remind me of Timberlake. What with the black suit and the skinny black tie.” CJ draped an arm over the aspiring singer, and steered him around the Christmas tree toward the bar. “If Clive was here, we would have had to invite him to join us for dinner. It would have ruined the symmetry of 21 at 21 for my 21st.”

“Mate, my husband’s a chronic planner. You have no idea what it took to coordinate tonight.” Owen leaned in and pecked CJ’s cheek. “Anybody else want a cocktail while we wait for our table?”

“Yeah! Silas and I will take a beer.” Ritchie avoided his brother’s eyes and stared at his brother-in-law with a hopeful expression.

“Nice try. We’ll sneak you guys a glass of wine or two with dinner. You know the rules. César and Brett would kill us if we let you have too much booze. What do you want, CJ?”

“Sapphire martini, straight up, olives… Have him wave it in Italy’s direction for the vermouth. You know, the usual.”

“Damn, CJ!” Brad’s red hair reflected the holiday lights strung around the establishment, making it seem as if his head was on fire. The illusion brought seraphim to mind and CJ thought it an apt comparison for an Army Ranger. “You ain’t fucking around, are you? I’m surprised after last night.”

“Dude, this morning sucked but I’m feeling great right now. Anyway, I’m having a couple of cocktails before the meal, wine with dinner, and then either brandy or port after. We be grown up and legal, Red. Let’s be like it.” The wattage of CJ’s smile was high enough to power a city block.

Brad concentrated on his shoes for a moment; he was not as cheerful next time he spoke. “I don’t know, CJ. I don’t know about that shit. Sometimes I feel like—”

“Mr. Abelló?” The clean-shaven young man scanned the room until he noticed CJ, Randy, and Rod had raised their hand. “Ohhh, Mr. César Abelló?” The man appeared lost when all three lowered their hand and resumed their conversations.

“Oh, bloody hell. Stop mucking around, guys.” Owen looked at the man’s nametag and pointed at CJ. “Please forgive my husband and his cousins, Darren. We’ll make sure they don’t get dessert tonight. Anyway, that’s César Abelló. He goes by CJ since that’s also his father’s name.”

“Are you Mr. Liston?”

“That’s me. I’m the one who made the arrangements anyway. I just used his name. Is there a problem?”

“Oh, no, sir. Not at all. If your guests are all here, we’ll seat you now.”

“Perfect!” Owen smiled at the man and turned his attention towards the group. “Okay, they’re ready for us. Darren will take us downstairs.”

“Oh, we don’t get to eat up here? But I told my dad where we were going and he said to make sure and check out the jockeys outside and all the pictures and drawings inside.” Although the restaurant required gentlemen to wear jackets, nobody seemed to object to Harley’s attire: Wesco boots shined to a dull glow, new black Levi’s 501s, a white shirt with silk necktie, and his black leather Perfecto jacket. CJ suspected the amount of money they were spending, and the fact they would not be in a public room, accounted for the leeway. “Why aren’t we in the main room? I thought we might see someone famous. I mean what with CJ being here and all I thought people would come by our table to say hello and stuff. And what—”

“Harley! Shut it, mate. This is CJ we’re talking about. Not Don Corleone in The Godfather. People aren’t going to come by to pay their respects.”

“You sure about that, Ozzie? I thought you reserved the basement so we wouldn’t have to deal with CJ’s fan club.” Rod did not move away fast enough; Taisha was quick to slap her husband’s arm.

Randy was not about to be left out of the fracas. “I’m sure one of the bartenders already called somebody, who called somebody, who called somebody else. Betcha the paps are gonna be waiting outside when we leave.”

“We’re eating in the basement? What are we like dogs or something?” Ty’s smile grew in proportion to the distance he placed between him and his sister-in-law Taisha. Tyler Scott was not as rambunctious as his husband Randy or his brother-in-law Rod, but he was not above the occasional zinger.

“Nah, that’s all they could afford. It was too expensive to eat in the main dining room.” Thiago’s quip earned him a raised eyebrow from the birthday man.

“Et tu, Thiago?”

Far be it for Chipper not to contribute to the banter. “Are we getting real food or kibble?”

“See what I have to put up with?” Taisha took Marina’s elbow and guided her to the front of the group. “We’ll follow you, Darren. I’m reconsidering my decision to marry into this family. They’re all adults, but god forbid they act their age. Out for a celebration in a top spot, and they behave like children.”

“Hey! Ritchie and I aren’t eighteen yet, so don’t count us as adults.” Silas leaned over and kissed his uncle’s wife on the cheek. “Anyway, you know you love us. All of us.” Shy and quiet Silas seemed to be learning how to be simultaneously sweet and sarcastic from his accomplice, Ritchie.

Taisha tried to ignore the youngsters as Darren guided them through the kitchen. “Anyway, Marina, it would have been better for us if the other females invited could have made it. Guess we have to keep them in line ourselves.”

“There were supposed to be more girls?” Marina orbited the group at a further distance and was unaware of weekend details. “Who, and why aren’t they here? I couldn’t imagine turning down the invitation to this.”

“Yeah… One was Lucy Wilkinson. She’s Harley’s sister and Ritchie’s girlfriend. Her parents decided it wasn’t a good idea for a sixteen-year-old to be around all the alcohol. Or alone with Ritchie at times like last night.”

“That makes sense. My conservative Greek parents would have done the same.”

“The other one’s Kim Hoang. That’s Harley’s girlfriend. She’s a freshman at the University of Maryland. Her family is strict and objected to her traveling alone with Harley. They’re conservative Catholics from Vietnam, and she decided to respect her parents’ wishes.”

“Too bad. So we would’ve been twenty-three instead of twenty-one?”

“Nope. When those two said they couldn’t come, CJ invited Tony and Colt to join us.”

“Wow! I’m sorry the girls couldn’t make it, but I’m glad those guys were their replacement. I had a blast at their place last night. And it was great to meet Tony’s brother and his girlfriend. We traded numbers with Mario, and plan on getting together with them in the New Year.”

CJ had trouble trying to figure out who said what. Comments flew around him, but it did not matter—contentment was a wonderful feeling. His delight at how well the weekend was going distracted him, and he almost spilled his martini when he ran into the guy in front of him. The women were the first ones inside the room, and their sudden stop had a rippling effect.

“Wow! I had no idea this was down here. No wonder Ozzie picked this room.” Marina pulled Taisha to the side allowing the rest of the group to enter. “Do you realize I’ve lived in New York my entire life and I never knew this was here?”

Wooden bins holding countless bottles lined the walls from the ground to the low ceiling. Soft light emanated from recessed fixtures, illuminating a narrow hallway. A turn and a couple of additional steps left them standing in a large room with a massive wooden table sporting a 21 flanked by two jockeys in the center, under the high-gloss varnish. . Silverware and crystal sparkled, battling the liquor storage for attention.

“Why don’t you all come in and take a seat. The one at the head of the table is reserved for my husband and the one to his right’s mine. Otherwise, sit anywhere you want. Once we get another round of cocktails, I’ll tell you what I know about 21 and the cellar.” Owen grasped CJ’s hand and led them to their seats, both chuckling at the expressions and comments of their guests. When Darren leaned down and whispered in the Aussie’s ear, Owen nodded and shared the comment with CJ. “They have a photographer on staff tonight because of all the special events. I said yes to having him come down here and take a few shots of us.”

“That’s awesome, Oz. We won’t have to bother with phones. Except I do want one picture on mine. So I can share it on Instagram.”

Once everyone found a seat and ordered drinks, Owen took his phone out and tapped at it a few times. “Okay, we have time right now before we get food and tuck in.” The others quieted when he looked around the table. “I checked with everyone beforehand to ensure we didn’t have any vegetarians and settled on Colorado rack of lamb as the main. CJ’s had a fixation on lamb since we ate at a Turkish restaurant in Amsterdam. There’s a menu for the evening atop your plate listing all six courses. And yes, this room’s my idea of heaven. When CJ and I move into our house one day, we’ll create something like this. We won’t have hundred-year-old bottles in it, but I promise when you come visit, you’ll enjoy what we store down there.

“Let me read you a bit from the restaurant’s website. ‘Officially opened on January 1, 1930, 21 is one of America’s most famous speakeasies from the Prohibition Era. Designed with its own disappearing bar and a secret wine cellar to hide the illegal liquor from prying eyes, it’s a place where celebrities and captains of industry have wined and dined for more than 80 years.’”

“Hear that, Ty? Celebrities and captains of industry. We know our cousin’s a celebrity, but how the fuck did we get in here?”

“Shut the heck up, Randy. And watch the language. We have women and youngsters with us.” Smirking, Owen adjusted his reading glasses and glanced around the table as their cocktails were brought in. “The Jack and Charlie in this next section refers to the founders. ‘Raids by police and federal tax officers during the Prohibition Era were persistent and frequent. This led many club owners to go to great lengths to hide their illegal liquor. Jack and Charlie did just that when they employed architect Frank Buchanan to design a complex system of camouflaged doors, invisible chutes, revolving bars and a secret wine cellar to hide and destroy the evidence.’”

“You guys realize some of that booze might have gotten here thanks to my relatives?” Everyone stared at Ethan in confusion. “Oh, come on guys. Don’t you know your history? A lot of liquor was smuggled in from Canada during prohibition. I know some of my family was involved in that.”

“You’re Canadian?” Sean feigned surprise and outrage at his boyfriend. “Are you legal? I better not be harboring an undocumented alien when you spend the night. No wonder you became an attorney. Being a crook runs in the family.”

“Oh, you’re so not getting any tonight, Sean.” Ajax’s quip brought on renewed laughter.

Chipper was next to offer an opinion. “Hey! Brad and Preach are related to the Kennedys. Joe Kennedy also smuggled booze. Maybe it was their family that supplied 21.”

“Are you all done? Should I continue?” Owen’s exasperation was definitely an act; his grin screamed he was enjoying the banter.

“Please do, Ozzie.” Marina, sitting between Chipper and Ajax, clamped a hand on each of their arms. “I’ll try to keep these two under control. If they don’t behave, they won’t be getting any tonight. I’ll even lock them in separate rooms.”

Still grinning, Owen shook his head before returning to the story. “’Rather cleverly, the wine cellar was not part of the 21 building at all, but the basement of number 19 next door. Therefore, when the authorities asked the bar staff if they had any liquor on the premises, their no was an honest reply. In reality, it housed 2,000 cases of wine.’ The website mentions the names of famous people who stored their wine collections down here.”

“Hey, Sean, does Tony have a hidden cellar under PRIME?” CJ alternated looking at the redheaded bartender and his boss.

Colt, Tony’s husband, jumped in the conversation before his redheaded employee could reply. “For sure. But it’s more a dungeon than a wine cellar. If you and Ozzie are interested, we’ll be happy to give you a private, after-hours tour.”

Tony slapped his partner on the back. “Dammit, Colt. You’re not supposed to talk about our play area in public. I’m sure the walls have ears in this place. Unlike ours that are soundproofed.”

“Not you too! I thought since you were the old men in the group you’d behave. Stop it with the sexual innuendos.” CJ earned himself middle finger greetings from the previous evening’s hosts.

“Old men, my ass. We’re both in our thirties.”

“Like I said: old men.”

“Fine, if you guys are just going to BS all night I’ll stop reading.”

“Ignore them, Ozzie. Keep reading. I’m interested.” Tank’s comment was accompanied by nodding from most of the other guests. “These guys have the wrong brotitude; they need to show a little respect.”

“Brotitude?” Carson stared at the blond bodybuilder next to him, and shook his head. “What’s that? Some sort of muscle head lingo, bro?”

“Okay, I’ll keep reading. But I want you children to behave. It’s an upscale establishment. Act accordingly. Now, where was I? Ahhh, yes. This is one of the world’s most coveted private dining rooms. Some of the wine bottles around you are priced in the thousands and they have several costing over ten grand apiece. Unfortunately, I had a budget to work with and none of those will be uncorked today.” Groans and a couple of “Cheapskate” comments met Owen’s quip. “Hey! You don’t want any of what the sommelier helped me pick, that’s fine. More left for the rest of us. Anyway, I think you’ll like the Spanish Rioja. I haven’t tasted it before, but the Beronia Reserva 2010 received a nice write up in the wine magazines.”

CJ was pleased when Brad Kennedy sat to his left. He was uncertain when or if he would see his friend again, and tried to spend as much time talking to him as possible. “What time’s your train tomorrow, Red?”

“Around noon. Mom and Mac are riding down from Boston and Paddy and I are joining them for the second leg of the trip. I’m glad Dad and JP invited them to celebrate Christmas in DC. I get to spend time with both parents. Who knows when or if I’ll ever see them again?”

CJ tried not to show his surprise at how Brad’s comment echoed his thoughts. The Army Ranger seemed cognizant that death walked beside anyone serving in the military. “We didn’t get to talk as much as I wanted to last night. I didn’t get to ask if you’ve decided how long you want to stay in.”

“I haven’t. I’m giving it another year and we’ll see what happens. But I’ve been talking to Dad about what it would be like to join a law enforcement agency. I may end up being a cop like him after I get out.”

Sitting next to Owen, Ritchie took his phone out of his blazer’s pocket, smiled, and tapped away at the screen. From across the table, Patrick Kennedy leaned forward. “Hey, what are you doing?” He asked the question at a much lower volume than the conversations surrounding them.

“It’s Lucy.” Apparently, that was enough explanation as far as the teen was concerned.

“What about that rule your family has of no phones at the dinner table?”

“Nah, that’s the dads rule. CJ and Ozzie won’t mind if I—“

“RITCHIE!” CJ was not too distracted to notice what his brother was doing, and decided to have some fun scaring him. “What the heck do you think you’re doing? Put the damn phone away.”

His brother’s shout, red tinge to the teen’s cheeks, and the speed Ritchie shoved the device back in his pocket focused everyone’s attention on him. “Sorry… Lucy says happy birthday again. I was just—“

“That’s nice of your girlfriend, but I don’t care. You know dinnertime’s phone-free time.” He had become so accustomed to his dads’ rule it was now second nature.

“Told ya.” Patrick’s smug grin and comment made Ritchie roll his eyes.

While restaurant staff cleared the meal’s detritus, CJ tapped on his water goblet with his fork. Multiple conversations came to a halt. “While we wait for the next course and for the photographer to drop in, I want to thank you all for helping make my birthday such a great one. And I want to thank my husband for doing most of the work organizing this weekend.”

Moments after CJ spoke; two servers began popping corks for the fifth course: Orange sorbet Champagne floats. Flutes placed in front of each guest were filled with bubbly. Owen had specified a wine from France instead of the less expensive domestic sparkling one.

“Okay, people, this is a palate cleanser before we get dessert. However, I asked for the flutes at this time so I could offer a real toast. Meeting CJ was frustrating. The wanker turned me down when I told him I wanted a relationship. As my late sister pointed out, I probably scared the crap out of that sixteen-year-old.”

“Cough—cradle robber—cough.”

“You’re so dead, Randy. Anyway, it took a little time, but he came around. In the process, he’s made me a very, very happy man. I’m not sure we’ll ever have another celebration as large and intimate as this one, so I’d like to propose a toast to my husband.” Owen raised his glass and motioned for the others to join him. “To CJ! The best man I’ve ever met. I hope this birthday celebration outshines all past ones but dulls in comparison to future ones. Happy birthday, babe.”

“Hear, hear!”

When the lights were turned off and waiters carried in trays with plates aflame, Chipper led the group in singing “Happy Birthday.” Owen had asked for a dessert not on the menu. Popular decades before, the restaurant agreed to prepare Chocolate Bombe Alaska with hot chocolate sauce. When the dish was placed in front him, CJ could smell the remnants of the brandy used to light it afire.

“Damn, that’s good.”

“Anyone want my meringue?”

“I love the orange sponge cake.”

“Don’t you think vanilla ice cream would have been better than chocolate?”

“If you don’t want it, I’ll eat yours.”

All other conversation faded while everyone concentrated on eating once again. As plates were all but licked clean, and people leaned back complaining about overeating, Ritchie reenergized the crowd. “Speech time, bro. Your turn.”

“Speech! Speech! Speech!” The exhortation filled the room.

“Hell if I’m going to pass up the opportunity to talk.” CJ scanned those seated around the table, pausing for a fraction of a moment on each of his friends. His smile grew as he felt his love for them reflected on their faces. “When I first started traveling to Washington to visit my dad, I came in contact with his friends. The tight-knit group of men, who tongue-in-cheek referred to themselves as the Elite, was a revelation to a kid dealing with his sexuality. Gay men who defied stereotypes. Who lived and loved without regard to what others thought or said. Unapologetic and proud. They gave me strength to accept myself.”

While CJ spoke, servers brought in fresh bottles of Champagne in ice buckets, and refilled the delicate crystal flutes in front of each guest.

“Little did I know a few years later I’d be surrounded by just as magnificent a group of friends. When Ritchie slapped the Squad moniker on y’all I—”

“Moniker? Cap would call that a quarter word.”

“Shut up, mate.” Owen elbowed his brother-in-law who failed to slide away fast enough. “Let your brother talk.”

CJ’s smile grew a bit broader. “I resisted the appellation. That’s another quarter, Ritchie. Anyway, the name grew on me. I’ve been called the leader of the group, but that’s inaccurate. We’re all equal. Even those of you augmenting our core group tonight. Some of you are a little older than our average age and a couple of you are younger. But I feel just as close to you as I do to the usual contingent.

“Today’s more than my birthday.” CJ reached over and grasped Owen’s hand. “It’s also the fifth anniversary of the day I met Owen Zachary Liston. The man who’s now my husband put up with my wishy-washy attitude towards relationships. Put up with me telling everyone he wasn’t my boyfriend. Put up with me not telling him how head-over-heels in love with him I was for a long time. He exhibited patience I’d be hard pressed to muster. Thank you, Oz. I love you.

“To those of you in Colorado for my eighteenth, thank you. Thank you for sticking around. Thank you for continuing to enrich my life. To those of you who’ve joined us since then, welcome. I’m glad you’ve joined us tonight. I look forward to many years of our lives being intertwined.” The smiles around the room confirmed this gathering had been the right thing to do.

“As you all know, Thiago’s about to become a daddy.” CJ paused while his friend was cheered and congratulated. “The group’s first crying, pooping, vomiting, rug rat.” Laughter won out over the smattering of boos and hisses. “The first of the next generation. The generation we’ll watch over and nurture the way my dads’ friends watched over me and guided me. I wouldn’t be half the man I am today were it not for them. My world is better because you and they are in it.”

He stopped again for a moment, trying not to shed the tears ready to burst from his eyes. “I hope I get the words right. There’s a song Chipper turned me on to I want to quote. ‘We were born ready, ready to be free. Chasin' every thrill we could see. With our eyes steady, waking to the dream. Aching to be thrown in the ring.’ The song’s ‘Enjoy the Ride’ by Krewella.

“A few of us are already out in the real world. Some of us are still preparing. But as far as I’m concerned, I’m ready to be thrown in the ring. I’m ready to enjoy every thrill, but I’m also ready to fight. Ready to fight for my family. Ready to fight for my friends. And ready to fight for my country.” CJ paused and stared at Brad. “Although Red here’s been doing so for a couple years already, and I’m not sure I’ll ever live up to his example.”

He was happy. Teeth bared in an ecstatic smile, CJ reached for his glass and raised it. “This is the last birthday celebration for a long time. I think the next one will be Ozzie’s thirtieth. ’Til then, I propose a toast. To family, to friends, and to our future. To borrow a Hebrew word from my Jewish friends: l’chaim! To life!”