Goodnight, My Angel - Georgeotown Book IV - 23. GMA XXIII

Soft jazz emanating from the speakers was the only sound in the apartment as CJ stared at his brother. Owen moved toward his husband with a glass of wine, and Ritchie squirmed in his chair before downing the remainder of whatever was in his. He met his brother’s eyes, but a moment later dropped his sight to the empty goblet.

“Ozzie? Could I have a little more?” Owen nodded, fetched the bottle from the kitchen, and topped off the teen’s glass. “CJ? Are you going to say anything?” Ritchie’s voiced cracked the way it had not since puberty.

Ritchie’s facial expression reflected the internal battle CJ assumed raged inside. Should he confront or console the kid? He wanted to scream. He also wanted to hug the seventeen-year-old and tell him everything would be fine. “I will in a second. Don’t go anywhere. I’ll change and be right back. Oz, maybe you should leave the bottle out here?”

He bought himself a few minutes to think. If Ritchie was in the apartment, he suspected the fathers did not know about the situation. He had to tread carefully; whatever he said or did could have repercussions affecting more than his younger brother. Above all, CJ did not want to overreact the way César and Brett had at times.

Everything he was wearing ended on the floor, replaced by gym shorts and a t-shirt. He was glad Owen had the temperature higher than they usually did. Considering the seriousness of the situation, he was glad they would at least be comfortable.

Back in the main living area, Owen had taken a seat on the couch, and CJ dropped next to him. “Okay, bro. How about you give us details.”

“There’s none! Lucy missed her period. She took a pregnancy test, and it came back positive.” Ritchie sounded calm, but the fidgeting was a good sign he was anything but.

“Who else knows?”

“NOBODY!” He nearly jumped out of the chair when he shouted. “Sorry… SHIT! I can’t believe this. She’s been on the pill in like forever. We’re not sure how it happened.”

“I can tell you how it happened.” CJ decided a little humor might help calm his brother. “You stuck your hard dick inside her pussy, moved it around—”

“CJ!” Owen delivered a hard slap to his husband’s bare thigh.

“Ouch! Hey, he said he didn’t know what happened. I was trying to help him remember.”

“Asshole.” The smirk on Owen’s face matched the diminutive one on Ritchie’s.

“Okay, bro. What do you need from us?”

“I… She… We… FUCK!” Ritchie placed the wine atop the coffee table, leaned forward, and covered his face with both hands. He shook his head, and CJ thought he was crying. Dry eyes and a resolute face emerged when he looked at the two older men again. “Neither one of us is ready for a kid. She wants an abortion. I told her I would go with her, and I’d pay for it. We checked online. She doesn’t need permission from her parents or anything like that. We want to do this as soon as possible. Maybe even—“

“Damn! Slow down, bro.” CJ was happy to see his brother’s decisiveness once he surmounted the fear of telling. “Let me repeat my question. What do you need from us?”

“I want to borrow some money. I don’t want Mr. A to see a big expense on my credit card or a withdrawal from the bank account.”

“Done. CJ and I keep a couple thousand dollars in cash. It’s yours.” Owen’s response earned him a hand squeeze from his husband.

“It won’t be that much. We checked at Planned Parenthood.”

“Whatever it takes, bro. Do you want me to call them? I know the local director from attending fundraisers.”

“No! I’m sure they won’t say anything, but this is one time I’m glad we have different last names. I know the dads also support that place, and I wouldn’t want anyone to slip next time they bump into Mr. A or the captain. But we’d like to borrow your apartment for afterward. So we can come here and… I don’t know. I just don’t want her being on her own. And if she went home, I wouldn’t be able to take care of her without her parents wondering what’s going on.”

“And Lucy’s certain this is what she wants?”

“Yeah. She’s headed to MIT in the fall when I go to Colorado Springs. Neither one of us’ ready for a baby.”

Owen poured the remainder of the bottle into Ritchie’s glass. “When do you need our place? CJ and I will plan on doing something.”

“Tomorrow? They’re open on Saturdays, and we want to get it done as soon as possible.”

“Actually, that works well for us.” CJ and Owen exchanged a quick glance. “We wanted to do a walk-through at the house. We promised Lincoln lunch and a calm tour.”

“Is that the FBI agent?”

“Yeah, you’ll like him when you meet him. Nice guy. How about we give you the apartment starting around noon tomorrow? We won’t return until you text us and tell us it’s cool.” CJ appraised his brother, seeing him in a new light. The kid was acting in a mature, calm, and informed way considering the situation. “You’re awfully calm right now, bro. I’m impressed.”

“Yeah, right. If you could see my insides, you’d realize they’re all twisted and knotted. Look, Lucy and I are not your run-of-the-mill, uneducated people you hear about having kids while in high school. Thiago’s a young father, but hell, he’s already a college graduate. And the two of you are having a baby while still young, but that’s by design. Lucy and I are smart. This is not like something we’re making light of, but shit happens. We’re trying to follow your advice. I keep hearing you say it’s not worth wasting time worrying about the past. You always say if there’s a problem, we should deal with it and move forward. Why waste time agonizing over something instead of tackling it and finding a solution?”

“I hope you realize you used a few quarter words in that little speech, bro.”

“Fuck you, CJ!” Ritchie did smile this time. “Anyway, we’re both responsible for the pregnancy. That’s why I’m standing by her.”

Mr. Henry’s, a corner pub with a gay-friendly vibe serving burgers and craft beers, was the chosen meeting spot. The restaurant was a two-minute walk from the Eastern Market Metro station and a ten-minute stroll from the house.

“Thanks for inviting me to lunch, guys.” Lincoln lived across the Maryland border, near the Silver Springs station, and rode the train in for the meeting. “I’m glad we get to keep in touch.”

“Dude, the way you dealt with the crooked inspector was dope. We owe you and wanted to thank you.” CJ signed the credit card slip and stood. “Plus, we liked you. We’re always up for making new friends.”

“Come on, mate. Let’s go check the place out and see if they’ve made any progress.” On the way to the house, Owen again made a pitch for the FBI agent to come to a Scandals practice, and he agreed to check out the next one.

“You said you played football in high school, Lincoln. I think you’d be good at rugby. When I moved to Washington, my dads used to play with friends now and then. Nothing formal. When the gay club was organized, they decided not to join due to time demands. Owen did as soon as he moved from Australia. I don’t play, but I know all the guys. They’re a good bunch.”

“CJ’s gone with me to the last two Bingham Cup—“

“What’s that?”

“It’s an international tournament held every two years. Last one was in Amsterdam and the one before in Nashville. It’s named after Mark Bingham. He was a San Francisco Fog player aboard the plane that crashed in Pennsylvania on 9/11. We can’t go this year, but you might be interested. It’s in Ottawa this time around.”

The dumpster parked at the curb was a sign of progress; workers had begun removing the existing roof, preparing for the installation of solar tiles. The door and several windows were open, and the beat of a Salvadoran cumbia filled the air. Lincoln looked surprised. “They’re working on a Saturday?”

“Yeah, there’s so much to be done, CJ and I agreed to pay overtime now and then to speed the project up.”

One of the workers was someone CJ had met before. “Hola, Roberto. ¿Como estás?”

“Bien, patrón. Bien. Trabajando duro.”

“Eso es bueno. Le voy a mostrar la casa a nuestro amigo.”

“Bien, bien.”

Owen tried not to laugh at Lincoln’s confused expression. “Not used to rapid-fire Spanish? CJ knows the guy, asked him how he was doing, and told him we wanted to show you the house.”

“What was that word he used? Patrón? Isn’t that a tequila brand?”

“A man after our own heart, Oz.” CJ clasped the FBI agent’s arm. “Glad to see your knowledge of Spanish covers the essentials. Booze! Patrón is kind of a respectful way of addressing someone. It literally means boss. Come on. Let’s give you the nickel tour.”

The place had been swept clean after the lead and asbestos abatement, but dust once again covered most surfaces. The door to the front room had been removed, the opening enlarged, and the new rear wall was framed awaiting drywall. “So, we told you we were keeping separate spaces here instead of a full open-floor plan.” CJ pointed at the new partition. “By moving the wall, we get a larger dining room. This front space won’t get much use, but Ozzie and I wanted to retain some of the original character.”

“One of the first things CJ mentioned when we toured the place was he wanted a big Christmas tree framed by the window. Something people could see while walking or driving by. I don’t think we’ll use the space much except during the holidays.”

“So, you guys will have a formal living room and a formal dining room. Surprising. I don’t get a stuffed-shirt vibe from either one of you.”

“We’re not! But I sit on a few boards, and at times we’ll have to entertain. I don’t think inviting a bunch of rich people over to watch a football game and drink beer’s gonna work if I want to ask them for money.”

“Let’s not forget the political side. CJ’s stayed away after the 2016 election, but I’m sure we’ll be hosting receptions for candidates in the future.” Owen moved further into the house and stopped in front of the expanded dining space. “Although we’re keeping separate rooms, we still want to give the house an airier feel. It’s why we expanded the opening to the first room. Here, we’re installing pocket doors with glass inserts. This is one room we actually have an idea of what we’ll have furniture-wise.”

CJ’s excitement at the reference bubbled to the surface. “Wait ’til you see what we’re getting, Lincoln. Are you familiar with Frank Lloyd Wright? We ordered replicas of the table and chairs he designed for the Robie House in Chicago. They’re sick.”

While Owen rolled his eyes, Lincoln chuckled. “I’ll take your word for it. I’ll google it later to see what you’re talking about.”

“You don’t need to do that. Screw later. Here, let me show you.” CJ’s phone was full of inspiration pictures. “Wright’s my favorite architect ever, and Ozzie’s letting me have some of his design touches. Even though they’re not from the same period the house was built.”

“I actually like it too. Some of it will fit in well, some of it won’t. But we’ve compromised on other areas, and this is a good place for this style furniture. Anyway, there’ll be two swinging doors leading from this room to the kitchen right behind it. It’ll make it easier for servers to come in and out with food.”

“What are you guys doing there?” Lincoln nodded toward the area behind the framed door openings.

“Obviously starting from scratch.” CJ led the way to the largest space in the house. “This used to be the kitchen, a large pantry, a maid’s quarters, and a small room we think was used for sewing.”

“So it’s gonna be all one space now?”

“Yeah, a huge kitchen with a large island with seating and then a family room. We’re still deciding on fixtures and finishes. We agreed on a farm sink and at least some glass-fronted cabinets but haven’t settled on other stuff. Owen wants quartz counters since they don’t require maintenance. I want granite.”

“Let me know who wins that one. What’s that small space in the back?”

“That’ll be a powder room. We have to relocate plumbing for it, but since we’re changing all the pipes to copper, it’s not that big a deal.”

By the time they reached the top floor, Lincoln appeared as excited about the remodeling as the owners. “This all sounds awesome, guys. I hope I get invited over once it’s done.”

“You will. In the meantime”—Owen opened his backpack and retrieved a bottle of wine—“this is a present from us to say thanks.”

“Oh, man. You two are something else.” Lincoln ran a finger over the label. “Liston… So this is from your family’s winery?”

“You got it, son.” CJ clasped the man’s shoulder and gave him a friendly shake. “That there’s a bottle of 2017 Liston Shiraz. You can’t buy it in the States, but we have connections.” CJ’s wink and Owen’s headshake elicited a chuckle from the FBI agent.

“Mate, make sure you let it breathe before drinking it. I’d suggest a big, juicy piece of meat with it.”

CJ smacked his husband’s arm. “Stop propositioning him! At least wait until he agrees to join the Scandals.”

“So what are we going to do about Lincoln?” Owen absentmindedly twirled clumps of CJ’s chest hair between his thumb and index finger.

“What do you mean?”

“Oh, the fact that man got a hardon when you were flirting with him today.”

CJ adjusted the pillow under his head as he did countless times each night. “I did no such thing!”

“Maybe not by our standards with our friends… I got the feeling he wouldn’t mind getting naked and jumping in bed with us.”

“Yeah, well, he’ll realize that’s not in the cards if he starts hanging out with us. Although—”

“Although what, wanker?”

“He’s definitely the type I wouldn’t mind fucking with. If we were into that shit.”

Owen snorted a chuckle. “Yeah, you definitely have a thing for tall, burly boys.”

“Fell for you, didn’t I?”

“That you did! Mate, I can’t wait until the house’s done and we can move in. We’ll finally have our home for real.”

“Don’t know about that, Oz.” CJ tugged at his husband until the blond lay sprawled atop him. “When you use my body for your bed, and I get to keep you warm throughout the night, that’s enough for me. Wherever we’re together, that’s my home.”