Goodnight, My Angel - Georgeotown Book IV - 21. GMA XXI

“RITCHIE!”

“WHAT?”

The brothers stared at each other. CJ, atop the stairs, was annoyed; his younger sibling below smirked. Further words were unnecessary. The confrontation was another episode of an ongoing battle. As much as he enjoyed holiday trappings, CJ had manifested his weariness with the barrage of Christmas music heard wherever he went.

“If you don’t lower the volume, I’m gonna fuck you up.”

“Scrooge! Why are you so cranky? This is a great song!”

The tune in question—“Christmas Wrapping” by the Waitresses—had been released years before either was born. It was seventeen-year-old Ritchie’s favorite seasonal song, and he expressed his love of it by cranking up the decibels whenever it played. He lowered the volume for all others on the playlist.

“Mate, give it up. Our brothers are down there together. If I know Spence, he’s egging Ritchie on.” Owen clamped a hand on his husband’s shoulder and steered him back towards the kitchen.

“Then, I’ll fuck them both up.” CJ grinned when silence enveloped them. His brother had cut the feed to the first-floor speakers.

Eschewing a large celebration after his twenty-first birthday bash the previous year, CJ opted for a family dinner Monday night. He and Owen, Ritchie and his girlfriend, Lucy, César and Brett, and Spencer and Tilda gathered at Annie’s Paramount Steak House in the Dupont Circle neighborhood. The restaurant and the multitude of other eateries and bars in the vicinity catered to the area’s substantial gay population. CJ and Owen were regular visitors; management knew them and delighted in providing a birthday cake while staff and patrons joined in singing “Happy Birthday.”

On Christmas Eve, following a day of sightseeing, the Australian visitors and their American hosts landed at Fish—Chef José Andrés’ outpost at the MGM National Harbor—and at the casino afterward. They staked seats at a roulette table but abandoned them when the minimum bet became one hundred dollars.

“Hey!” César held his phone aloft for his son to see. “Before you ‘fuck ’em up’ and we have to clean up the blood, how about we call your grandparents?”

“I’ll take care of them outside. Pink snow will look pretty on the side yard.” CJ knew before the day was over, their guests would gather around the blazing firepit with cigars and after-dinner cocktails.

CJ’s paternal grandparents and his maternal grandmother were on a two-week cruise circumnavigating their native island. The voyage—a joint present from their children and grandchildren—was the first time any of the three had returned to Cuba since their exile. It was an opportunity to visit their birthland and a chance for Olga Santos to spread her deceased husband’s ashes on Baracoa’s sandy beach.

“Dude, are you gonna open one of those bottles?” Brett pointed at the case of wine sitting under the Christmas tree by the front window.

“Not sure, Captain. Santa CJ gave them to me for being good this past year.” Owen wiggled his eyebrows. “Really good now I think about it. What about you? Have you been naughty or nice?” His relationship with his father-in-law and fellow surfer was outstanding; the teasing was nothing out of the ordinary.

Earlier in the day, they had all gathered at the townhouse for a casual breakfast and gift exchange. Owen surprised CJ with a Georgetown University graduation ring on which he had the generic stone replaced with a real, blue sapphire. The Aussie’s present was a case of Biondi-Santi 1975 Il Greppo Brunello di Montalcino CJ purchased at auction.

“He better not uncork it unless he plans to share with me.” Spencer had joined the group in the kitchen. “That Ritchie spends way too much time playing pool. He ran the table on me, and he’s doing the same with Patrick right now. Beast!”

The other men joined CJ’s nodding. “Yeah, he spends as much time hitting the cue ball as he does playing with the flight simulator. Or pulling his pud. What are Brad and Tilda doing?”

Patrick Kennedy, home from college, maneuvered his brother’s wheelchair over the cobblestones of the shared driveway soon after breakfast. The Boston University sophomore traveled to Washington with his mother, Hilary, and his stepfather, Mac. His father and his husband, Tom and JP, had invited the Boston couple to join them for Thanksgiving and now for Christmas. Until Brad became accustomed to his artificial legs, it was easier for the others to travel. César and Brett insisted they all come over on the twenty-fifth, assuring them they had been included in the count given the caterer.

“I’d be careful, Spence. His dick wasn’t blown off. Lately, Legless’ had bouts of the horns a lot.”

“CJ!”

“Sorry, Oz.” CJ shrugged. “I meant he only lost his legs, Spence. His other appendages survived. Your brother hates it when I call Brad Legless.”

“Here you go, Preston. This is from CJ and me. Merry Christmas.” Owen handed the Amtrak porter a card with two hundred-dollar bills inside.

“Thank you, Mr. Liston. You too, Mr. Abelló.” The man stuck the envelope in his back pocket as he tipped his red cap. “Will you be celebrating New Year’s Eve in New York?”

“That’s the plan, my man.” CJ took a step sideways so the attendant would have a clear view of the other couple. “This is Ozzie’s brother, Spencer, and that’s his girlfriend, Tilda. They’re here from Australia. We’ll all be in Times Square on Tuesday.”

“Oh, my! Good luck navigating through that unruly mob. A million souls and not a toilet anywhere. I hear people wear diapers since they spend hours and hours standing.”

“Hopefully that won’t be us, mate. CJ has something else planned.”

Spencer and Tilda smiled and remained quiet during the exchange. As soon as they boarded the train and sat, he pounced. “What the bloody hell was that?”

“What do you mean?” CJ’s innocent reply hid his amusement.

“That! You give the conductor a Christmas card with, I guess, money in it. And he knows both your names? W T F?”

Laughter precluded CJ from offering a response. The responsibility fell to Owen. “Mate, we take the same train every month it seems. After a while, you start trading head nods, then a few words, and next thing you know, you’re asking them about their kids or their bum knee. You forget CJ can talk to a wall and make friends with it.”

“Asshole!”

“Here.” Owen handed Tilda a glass of wine. “The next street over’s Park. Then there’s Madison and after it, Fifth Avenue. That’s Central Park’s boundary. If I know my husband, we’ll ride hansom cabs through the park after dinner. And we’ll walk around there tomorrow.”

“Ta.” Tilda leaned over the balcony’s railing, staring west through the concrete canyon. “This is such a lovely view. All these tall buildings! So different from anything in the Hunter Valley.”

The sliding glass door opened. Spencer took a step outside and within seconds returned to the apartment’s warmth. “Brrr… too damn cold out there. How do you like the wine?”

“Haven’t tasted it yet. You’re right, it’s a tad chilly out here. What are we drinking?” Tilda asked as they all moved to the living room.

CJ held the bottle aloft while reading the label. “A Chilean Cabernet. Alma Libre 2017. Not bad. Haven’t had it before, and I have no idea who bought it. My dads and their friend who owns the co-op with them have been here since Ozzie and I last visited.”

That evening, Owen’s prediction came true. After dinner at Uskudar, a Turkish restaurant a few blocks away from the apartment, CJ insisted on a stroll through Central Park and a ride in one of the horse-drawn carriages.

As usual, CJ was the first one awake. He threw on jeans and a sweatshirt, started the coffeemaker, and slipped out of the apartment. The sun had yet to climb above the buildings to the east when he jogged to Pick-A-Bagel for baked goods, lox, and the usual fixings.

“You’re a nutbar! It’s freezing outside and that’s all you wore?” Tilda sat on the couch satisfying her need for caffeine. The sound of two showers meant the Liston brothers were also awake.

“It wasn’t bad. I only went a couple of blocks. But it is cold. I cranked up the heat before I left. It’s already warmer in here than when I got up.” CJ dropped the bags in the kitchen and returned with his own mug. “Any ideas what you want to do today?”

“Well, Spencer’s told me about places he saw when he did his walkabout before uni.” As the temperature in the apartment climbed, the woman shed the blanket she had wrapped herself in. “I wanted to visit the Statue of Liberty, but he told me you need to take a boat out to it. I don’t think I want to be out on the water in this cold.”

“We can head over to Battery Park. You can see the statue from there and take pictures. Whenever we’re down there, we always end up at the Freedom Tower afterward. You’d enjoy that. The observatory on the hundredth floor is sick. The 9/11 memorial makes me tear up every time I visit, and the train station next to it is out of this world. It was designed by one of my favorite architects.”

“Shower’s all yours. Tilda.” Spencer, freshly shaved and dressed, stopped for a moment on his way to the kitchen. “G’day, mate. I meant to ask you, what was that large envelope the doorman handed you yesterday when we arrived?”

“Yeah, CJ. Why don’t you tell us what’s in the envelope?” Owen’s mocking tone made CJ smirk.

“Asshole!” His husband knew what it was; he was certain Owen wanted to see him squirm while weaving a plausible explanation. He was going to throw him a curve. “Admission to New Year’s Eve.”

“What?” Owen looked startled. “I thought you were going to surprise them.”

“I was. Then I realized you wanted to see me sweat trying to make something up. I decided not to give you the pleasure.”

“Who’s the asshole now?”

Tilda’s head followed the exchange, her mouth agape. “Are you two for real?”

“What?” The three males replied simultaneously.

“The way you talk to each other. I swear I’ve never seen anything like it. Anyone hearing you would think you’re seriously arguing. But I can see you’re not. It’s like you guys get off on this.”

“Blame it on CJ and his dads. They corrupted me after I moved.”

“Fuck you, Oz. Your sarcasm’s always been there. You may have loosened up a bit since we met—”

“It’s a defense mechanism, Tilda. I had to adapt to avoid extinction. Brett and César banter like you wouldn’t believe it. CJ gets it from them. Of course, the three of them surround themselves with like-minded people. You know, birds of a feather and all that shit.” Owen stopped when CJ chuckled. “What now?”

“Nothing, I just think it’s funny how you view our friends. I need a refill. Anyone else?” Three mugs were raised. “I’ll bring the carafe in. Carry on, Oz.”

“Anyway, Spencer can confirm all this. He was around us last year. What amazes me is that CJ and his dads surround themselves with really diverse people. Race, religion, nationality… But they all seem to be clones when it comes to personality. That and being in shape.”

Tilda waited until CJ refilled her mug. “It makes sense. You definitely have those two traits yourself. And you nailed it with the birds of a feather comment. It’s natural for people to flock to those they share values with. In this case, those values are smartassness and hunkiness.”

“And on that note…” Spencer stood and pulled his girlfriend up. “Why don’t you go shower? I’ll help Owen sort breakfast.”

Spencer offered Tilda a hand, helping her out of the taxi. Her head turned, and her eyes followed the line stretching from PRIME’s entrance. “The queue’s ginormous. We’re going to freeze while waiting to get in.”

“Ah! A damsel in distress. I shall rescue you, milady.” CJ was in rare form. They spent the day sightseeing with laughter as the soundtrack. He decided Tilda was okay. As far as he was concerned, she could join the family. The martinis prior to dinner and the wine with the meal contributed to his joviality. “JURE!” CJ raised a hand in greeting as he approached the door.

“Hi, CJ.” The bouncer smiled, and the smile grew when he spoke to Owen. “Welcome back, Ozzie. How are you tonight, handsome?” The security man had a history of flirting with Owen. “Remember, if you get bored, I’ll be here waiting for you.”

“Give it up, mate. Ain’t happening. Hey, this is my brother, Spencer, and that’s his girlfriend, Tilda. They’re visiting from Australia.”

“Welcome to New York. I hope you enjoy your time in the city. You’ll definitely have a blast in here.” Jure raised the velvet rope, allowing them to enter without checking ID or paying the cover charge. As always happened, those in line grumbled.

“Mate, that was awesome. I like going out with you two.” Spencer may have clung to Tilda a bit more when a couple of guys walked by and undressed him with their eyes.

“Yeah, well, don’t get used to it. This is about the only place in New York we get away with it.” CJ held Owen’s hand as he strolled towards the back. “Come on, let’s go see Sean. Ethan texted me he’s already here waiting for us. So are the owners and Tony’s brother and his girlfriend.”

They were far from sober when they left the bar at closing time. Mario and Spencer made plans to join CJ and Owen at the gym the next day while their girlfriends went shopping. Back at the apartment, Owen was the responsible one, ensuring everyone took painkillers and drank a bottle of water as hangover prevention.

When the reporter and the actor relaxed, signaling a commercial break, CJ sprung to action. Cupping his mouth, he shouted at them. “Anderson! Bradley!”

“CJ!” The response was simultaneous and accompanied by hand motions inviting him to climb on stage.

Spencer’s request for something extraordinary on New Year’s Eve led them to their current spot. Every December 31st, crowds streamed into New York City’s symbolic heart beginning in the afternoon. The celebration on Times Square had gone on for over 100 years as people gathered to watch the world-famous ball drop at midnight.

When planning the trip, CJ and Owen realized they would need to stand for hours if they wanted to secure a good location from which to enjoy the festivities and discussed alternatives. CNN’s Anderson Cooper had interviewed CJ during the 2016 campaign. Owen met him the following summer on Fire Island, and the men had remained in contact. CJ’s latest appearance on the TV anchor’s show took place during the promotional tour for Bullies Beware. The envelope couriered to the apartment the previous week contained four passes allowing them access to the network’s area on New Year’s Eve.

“What’s this? A Coopers convention? Do I need to change my last name?” CJ shook hands with Bradley Cooper as soon as he reached the raised platform. “Man I haven’t seen you in ages! I didn’t know you were gonna be here tonight.”

“We’re in town, and Anderson convinced me to stop by. We’ve been talking about my latest movie.” The film had a limited release before Christmas, and rumor was the actor was in line for another Academy Award nomination.

“Hate to interrupt the lovefest, boys. We’re coming out of commercials.” Anderson motioned for the four visitors to step back. “CJ, stand outside camera range while we finish the segment. Next break will be a long one. Commercials, remote reports, and more commercials. Your group will be on afterward.” The reporter had been agreeable when his young friend explained the night’s plan.

A graduate of Georgetown University, Bradley Cooper returned to The Hilltop now and again. CJ met him when the actor screened A Star is Born on campus the previous year. School administrators asked César and Brett to host a cocktail reception for him, and he had remained in touch with the fathers, CJ, and Owen.

“I’ve never done this before.” Tilda held her hair out of the way while the four friends were fitted with lapel microphones and earbuds.

“There’s nothing to it.” CJ jammed his Hoyas knit cap back on his head once network personnel finished adjusting the equipment. “I was nervous the first few times. Just ignore the camera. Make believe we’re not on TV. Or that millions of people are watching.”

“Asshole!” Owen whispered, but the microphone broadcast his words to the control booth.

“Careful with the language, please.” The disembodied voice was heard by all through their earpieces.

Spencer covered his microphone with a hand, before adding his own comment. “You’re such a wanker, CJ. Now that’s all we’re gonna think about.”

“That’s a wrap.” It was the director speaking in their ear again. “You have a fifteen-minute break, Anderson.”

The anchor passed the handheld microphone to an assistant. “Why is it I’m not surprised you two know each other?” He pointed at Bradley and CJ.

“We’re both Hoyas!” The actor plucked the hat off CJ’s head and stuck it on his own.

“You guys know my husband… That’s his brother, Spencer and his girlfriend, Tilda. They’re visiting from Australia. This will be their first time on air. Be gentle with them.”

“Be back in a minute, guys. I need to use the porta potty.” Their host left them alone on the stage.

“Nice to meet you, Spencer, Tilda. Welcome to the US.”

“Thanks, mate.” Spencer was calm, but Tilda seemed star-struck. She shook hands with the famous actor but did not say a word.

“How long are you guys in town for?”

The woman at last found her voice. “We fly to California on the second.”

“Perfect!” Cooper turned to CJ. “What are you doing tomorrow?”

“Recovering.” Owen’s response was confirmed by CJ’s nod. “Brunch and maybe we’ll catch your new movie.”

“Nah… You can do that any time. Or I’ll give you a DVD of it. Irina”—Irina Shayk was the man’s partner and mother of his daughter—“and I are having friends over. I want the four of you there.”

“When and where?” CJ did not bother consulting with his companions. He was certain they were all agreeable.

“Any time after ten. Let me text you the address.” The man grinned at Owen while tapping on his phone. “I bought a townhouse in the Village. I remember your wine connection, Owen. You’ll like my new place. The cellar holds a thousand bottles or so.”

“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god. I just met Bradley Cooper! My girls back home will never believe it.” Tilda blabbed non-stop.

“They will when they see the pictures.” Spencer returned his phone to his back pocket. “And if he was serious about going to his house tomorrow, I’m sure we’ll get more.”

“Oh, he was serious.” CJ raised his own phone. “He already texted me the address.”

“Okay, boys and girl. We ready to do this?” Anderson Cooper clasped a hand on CJ’s biceps, his other one firmly affixed to the shoulder of the man accompanying him. “CJ, have you met Andy?”

“I haven’t before.” He stretched a hand out to Andy Cohen, the show's co-host. “But I know who he is. Nice to meet you, Mr. Cohen.”

“Please, it’s Andy. Anderson told me about you. We’re about to go on air. Relax and you’ll all be fine. We’ll talk a bit about each of you and about how it’s already 2020 in Australia.”

“We’re back in New York. Andy’s returned from cavorting with the crowd, and we’re joined by four special guests.” Anderson’s eyes sparkled, and his smile shone as he faced the camera.

“I was not cavorting. I was working.” Andy sounded indignant, but his grin did not falter. “Those man-on-the-street interviews are hard after a few cocktails. And some of those men were just plain hard. The muscles!”

“You or them? Anyway, I met CJ Abelló during the 2016 presidential campaign. He appeared on my show a few times. Later, he introduced me to his husband—”

“They’re married? There goes my fantasy.”

“Hush. As I was saying, I met Owen Liston, and we’ve remained in touch. Last year, CJ published the acclaimed Bullies Beware. I was lucky to interview him again. Happy New Year, gentlemen.”

CJ’s experience was evident when he didn’t hesitate. “Same to you and Andy, Anderson. Thanks for having us. Hey, let me introduce you to our companions. The guy’s Owen’s brother, Spencer. The lovely lady’s Tilda, his girlfriend.”

“G’day, mate. Happy New Year to you too.” Spencer sounded calm, but incessantly patted his coat’s front pocket.

Andy’s eyes shot wide open. “Oh, em, gee… You’re Australians! I looove the accent.” He was hamming it up for the camera; he was already aware of their nationality.

“Hush. Stop gushing.” Anderson sounded like an annoyed parent. “Tilda, you haven’t said a word. How are you tonight?”

“I… I’m a little nervous but good.”

“Nothing to be nervous about, dear. Why don’t you tell us about yourself and how you ended up with these three ruffians?”

“Hey! Watch it with the name calling!” Owen’s quip and chuckles were apparently enough to calm the girl.

“Well, I’m from Pokolbin. That’s a town in the Hunter Valley in New South Wales. I’ve known Spencer and Owen since I was little. Everyone knows the Listons! Their winery produces—”

“Wait, wait, waaait.” Andy raised both arms and bent his wrists so the palm of his hands faced upward. “You’re all Australians, and you own a winery? I’m in love.”

“Hush, Andy.” Seldom shy, CJ left Cohen with his jaw reaching for his chest while Cooper laughed. “They are Aussies. I was born in Miami. If you’re a good boy, maybe we’ll bring you a bottle of the family wine one day.”

“YESSSS! I’ll have you on my show, and we can do shotskies all night.” His eyes raked over CJ and Owen. “Can’t really tell under all the layers, but I suspect you both have rocking bodies. Maybe we’ll do the show shirtless.”

While Owen shook his head, CJ nodded. “Sure thing, buddy. I hope your network has deep pockets. We’ll do your show shirtless, but you’ll have to make a six-figure contribution to a charity of our choice.”

Anderson rolled his eyes. “Are you two quite done? Sorry, Tilda. You were saying?”

“It’s okay, they’re funny. Liston wines are some of the best in the region. Unfortunately, they don’t make enough to sell outside Australia. But CJ and Owen get cases sent to them as pressies all the time.”

“For those of you not fluent in Oztrayan, pressies means presents.” The look Anderson gave his co-host was decidedly evil. “You don’t know what you’re missing, Andy. I tried some last summer while we were all on Fire Island. Next time I’m Down Under, I’m bringing back as many bottles as I can.”

Andy’s pout made them all chuckle. “I hate you all. Please continue, Tilda.”

“Well, about the same time Owen moved to America, Spencer left for uni in Sydney. When he returned, he started work in the family business, and we would see each other now and then. Last year, after CJ and Owen got married, Spencer and I started dating when he came back from Washington.”

“Did your brother getting married inspire you to date, Spencer?”

“Nah, mate. I always thought Tilda was pretty and nice.” He glanced at his brother and brother-in-law for a fraction of a second, both winked at him and took a step back out of camera range.

Anderson smiled. He was in on it. “So, what are your intentions toward this lovely young woman?”

“Well…” He reached in his pocket and withdrew a small box. Eyes fixed on his girlfriend, he opened it to reveal an antique opal and diamond ring. “Tilda? You know that old song I love? The one by Gin Wigmore?” Tilda covered her mouth with both hands; the realization of what was happening washed over her.

Spencer dropped to a knee and sang.

“Oh my God I'm beaten in the game of love
And I fall down I fall down on my knees I fall
Oh my God, I'm beaten in the game of love

“And since I’m beaten, I gladly surrender. Matilda Linsay, will you marry me?”