Winning the Lottery - 40. Chapter 40 Celebrating

We agreed to a birthday party for Dane but talked him into a small one. There were about ten little boys and girls—Dane’s school chums—running around the garden on a sugar high screaming their little lungs out while the parents sat poolside sipping Daiquiris. Parents, across the board, have a remarkable ability to tune out the noise. And they were able to relax because we’d managed to co-opt not one, but two, of our security people to act as ‘lifeguards’ for the afternoon promising them a bonus if they didn’t succumb to nervous breakdowns. Derrick and I, freed from our normal vigilance, got to play the role of relaxed, gracious hosts. Robert and Keno, the cowards, had escaped to a secluded beach up on the East Shore.

Dane enjoyed his party, which was, after all, the goal of the day. We’d thought of making it a ‘no present’ party, but what seven year old wants a birthday party with no gifts? We did, however, strongly hint that the gifts were not to be extravagant—most of the children’s parents were quite wealthy—and the parents complied. Actually, the gifts were very appropriate to Dane’s tastes, which lead us to believe that he may have dropped some hints at school.

Robert and Keno, their recent trials and tribulations forgotten, were disgustingly lovey-dovey.

“Remember when we were like that?” said Derrick.

“We still are!” I protested.

“True,” agreed Derrick, “So, you wanna fool around?”

Dane thought having Keno in residence was just wonderful. What a great antidote to boredom! He had a serious case of hero worship and was determined to help Keno ‘get better.’ Dane would seek out Keno every day after school and usually talk nonstop in Hawaiian pidgin. He peppered Keno with questions about the accident, his injuries and the rehabilitation process. He knew that Robert had said something special to Keno so that Keno would be encouraged to recover and was frustrated that his attempts to find out exactly what was said were thwarted. At any rate, Keno was very patient, treating Dane as an almost adult, encouraging a healthy two way conversation. He also regaled Dane with the Hawaiian folklore stories that he’d grown up with. Nothing like wrathful gods and warrior kings to hold a young boy’s interest! However, Keno refused to commence their daily converstaion until Dane completed his homework assignments and had them checked. Derrick and I were more than grateful to Keno for providing that incentive and doing the policing.

Robert, good humor was restored, performed his work duties with alacrity. I’m surprised he could keep his patience with our ever changing schedule. When we forgot to tell him about some event or commitment, which invariably caused some sort of minor crisis, he never lost his cool.

Keno, with limited mobility and off work for several weeks, coordinated the details for the new house: meeting with the architect, project manager, decorator and builder. He was a master at dispute resolution. The house was designed from Robert’s sketches. Rather than using poured concrete for the walls, however, the main structure was made from pre-cast concrete panels, so once the foundation was completed the shell of the house was constructed the span of a few hours. I’d seen the interior design renderings and was impressed by the proposed Hawaiian theme. I particularly liked that local materials were to be used wherever possible, although I was told that the teak would come from Asia. It was all so well illustrated beforehand that it was easy to envision the final product. It was a design I dubbed ‘Hawaii meets Fire Island.’ The architect made a brilliant suggestion. Because there were few windows on the street side of the house it presented a somewhat blank, austere facade. He suggested commissioning one of Oahu’s up-and-coming artists to design a mural which was then incorporated into the overall design proportions.

Jubilation reined, and after weeks of stress and fear, made us positively giddy. Keno’s accident and recovery brought to mind my own journey of recovery after the shooting, and the horror of Cass’s kidnapping. Three near tragedies with, luckily, three fortunate outcomes was something to be celebrated. Plus, there were so many good events over the years to honor: new beginnings, blossoming relationships, growing families, reconciliations...the list was endless. And what better way to celebrate, and express our gratitude to friends and loved-ones than one big, all encompassing party?

I described my idea as a wake, or celebration of life, but without the corpse. “Trust a doctor to put a morbid spin on it,” teased Derrick.

But Derrick thought it was a great idea, as did Robert.

“It won’t it be too much work for you?” I asked Robert.

He laughed, and said, “Honey, I ain’t doing a lick of work. We is gonna hire ourselves a par-tee planner!” Robert, such a kidder.

The three of us held a preliminary planning meeting and came up with a few ideas. We decided on a date, three months hence. The party would be held at our house. A quick count of the potential invitees indicated about fifty guests. We’d provide transportation for all the off-island guests as well as luxurious accommodation for those who needed it. Robert suggested using Dusty’s hotel, currently in process of a complete makeover. There was no shortage of good ideas.

Plans fell into place. We contracted a travel consultant to coordinate flights, rooms and local transportation. Abu’s father kindly volunteered the use of his jet. From Saudi it would make stops in Nice and London. Passengers would be Abu and his wife, Salina, James and Monique, Charlie and his husband, Viscount Lanston, and my mother and Alistair.

Our G650 would transport the west coast contingent. My aunt, uncle and cousins would be transported on a separately chartered jet.

Derrick’s uncle and cousins would come on the Deacon corporate jet.

Everyone’s schedules had to be addressed. Some guests would stay in Hawaii for several days, some could only stay for a day or two. I didn’t envy the travel consultant sorting all that out!

What became clear in the planning process was that the ‘event’ wasn’t just a one-day party. Some folks, like Derrick’s uncle and cousins, would be in and out like hummingbirds to a flower, but others, like my family and our friends, would arrive well before and some would stay well after. This was more than fine with Derrick and me because it would give us a chance to have longer, more intimate visits with many of them.

Speaking of intimate: All the invited guests were special, but there were a few to whom my thoughts kept returning: Sam, Nick, Rob, Jerome, John, Paul, Jordan and Kelly. That’s right, all the guys from the spontaneous love fest from a few years ago. It truly had been a bonding experience in the way, I suppose, a Navy SEAL team becomes bonded during an arduous training course. (I’d have to ask Sam about that reference since he was an ex-Navy SEAL.) Call it bromance; call it whatever you want. Those guys were truly our besties.

We wondered if they’d all be up for another “what-happens-in-Hawaii-stays-in-Hawaii” male bonding event? We asked. The response was unanimous: HELL YES!

John and Paul arrived one week before on their wives’-sanctioned once-a-year boys’ getaway. They flew commercial and opted to stay at the Queen Kapiolani Hotel for personal, sentimental reasons. Their wives and children would fly down for the day before the actual party. I was amazed at how comfortable their wives, who were twin sisters, were about their relationship. But seeing what I’ve seen over the years, I’d say the concepts of ‘normal’ behavior and morals possess a great deal of elasticity. Everyone’s life is so unique; who knows what goes on behind closed doors. I did reflect, however, that of all the members of the group, John and Paul were the only non-multimillionaires. That was something we could easily rectify...but would they appreciate a little help from us? I wondered what their hopes and dreams were. Derrick and I decided we’d ask. Perhaps there would be an opportunity to gives those dreams a little nudge.

Next in were Sam, Nick, Rob and Jerome. We’d sent the G650 to fetch them. Their children would join them later. Rob and Jerome were staying at Jordan and Kelly’s house. Sam and Nick in our guest cottage.

Jordan and Kelly said they’d host the boys’ barbeque. Dusty said he’d take the Dane and Alfy trail riding that day, with a sleepover after. “No kids. Clothing optional. I can hardly wait!” said Jordan. The anticipation rendered Derrick and me as horny as two horned owls in the weeks preceding the party. We had sex so frequently it was like being on our honeymoon all over again.

Dusty came and picked up the excited little buckaroos for the trail ride. They’d only been out riding on Oahu with Dusty once before, but they’d loved it and could speak of nothing the week after but becoming cowboys. Dane had fond ‘cowboy’ memories from his time in Nebraska, and he took delight in the fact that, for once, he was more proficient at something than Alfy.

At the appointed hour, Sam, Nick, Derrick and I made our way, a little nervously, to Jordan and Kelly’s home. Our apprehensions were immediately dispelled by the warm exchange of greetings which included full crotch rubbing hugs and some promising kisses. Everyone had to do a bit of dick adjustment after that. We sipped Coronas while we teased and laughed awaiting John and Paul’s arrive. They rolled in looking incredibly buff and hot in board shorts and wife beaters. Although fantasizing about them in their work uniforms—fire and police—had my dick twitching and leaking. They were greeted equally ‘warmly’ and responded in kind. Pretty much everyone was sporting nascent woodies, and it was tempting to start a bit of early groping. However, by tacit agreement the sex games wouldn’t begin until after we’d finished dinner and watched the sunset. My stomach was doing flips in anticipation, and judging by the animated conversation and laughter that afternoon it was easy to tell that all the guys were as buzzed about it as me.

We ate, we drank and we smoked some dope. As the sun set we stood in a line, arms around each other’s waists, facing west, watching the orange Oahu sun sink into the ocean. Then, by some instinct, like schooling fish, we circled into a ten man group hug kiss fest. We were all perfectly attuned to one another; the dope helped to mellow us.

Clothes were shed. There was no pairing off per se. Instead, everyone moved fluidly from man to man stroking, kissing liking, fondling and sucking. Eventually we ended up in a classic standing circle jerk, legs spread, hips thrust forward, jacking. Too bad nobody was filming us; it would have made a pretty popular porn movie! Watching the guys stroking themselves was incredibly hot. Somebody came—I think it was Jerome, but it might have been Nick. Anyway, that was the trigger that tipped the rest of us over the edge. Ten loads in rapid succession shot onto the grass. We all collapsed panting, smiling like Cheshire cats. Then Kelly stood and, with a flourish, thanked us for fertilizing the lawn. With our sense of humor heightened by the marijuana we laughed uncontrollably. Just when we thought we were getting it together someone would say “fertilize!” and we’d all start again.

Eventually somebody asked Jordan if he had any potato chips, and we forgot about ‘fertilize’ and commenced gorging ourselves on the salty snack.

Everyone headed for the pool and hot tub After that, we relaxed on the lounge chairs. There was some kissing and stroking on and off for the rest of the evening, but nobody climaxed again. Ten mellow guys, all connected by some invisible force. Talk about ‘sharing the love.’ I was filled with contentment and gratitude. Eventually, the dope was wore off which rendered us all a little sleepy.

In a quiet moment with Paul and John, Derrick and I were able to broach the subject—diplomatically—of helping fulfil their dreams, whatever they might be. As it turned out, they’d been thinking about leaving their respective jobs and starting an investigation and security firm. Their wives, both nurses, had been talking about developing a homecare nursing business. Derrick and I told them we’d gift them the start-up money for their businesses. There was some demurring, but eventually they succumbed to our gentle persuasion. In addition, Derrick and I would make sure—by establishing generous trust funds—that none of them would have to work another day in their lives if they didn’t want to. Derrick and I know what it’s like to work at what we love doing without financial pressure—it’s a fulfilling, carefree way to live.

It was like herding cats, but somehow our travel coordinator managed to get all our guests to Honolulu and comfortably accommodated.

The day of the party finally arrived. The weather was perfect. The marquees and tables were set up. Hawaiian music drifted from hidden speakers. Wait staff in bright Hawaiian shirts were ready to serve the guests. A videographer had his equipment ready and had promised to be unobtrusive. The event was planned as a drop-in, open house, and people began arriving in the early afternoon. We’d set up a special children’s area with games on Jordan and Kelly’s recently fertilized lawn, but we allowed them pretty much free rein to drift between the main party and there. There were activity coordinators with them as well as security on the beach and at the back of the house to make sure the little imps didn’t stray too far.

Gramps and Grams were seated in a throne-like place of honor, made especially comfortable for them because of their delicate health From there they regally greeted all those who approached to pay homage. They were so majestic that people found themselves unconsciously bowing and curtsying—something that they both found to be ridiculous but hilarious nonetheless.

Derrick and I circulated making introductions; bringing those who were like-minded together and discretely breaking up cliques.

Dusty had a long talk with Alistair about their riding program. Mom, when reintroduced to Mr. Faroughi, cried and expressed her gratitude for their care of me. I introduced my medical school cousin to Jordan so they could talk shop. Sergeant Eagle, Paul and Keno huddled talking about their respective law careers. Jimmy and John talked fire. Don and Marco talked about their families with Jerome and Rob. Nick and Sam proudly introduced their son, Jorge, who was planning on following his father’s footsteps into the military via the ROTP program. Mr. Chen, long retired but ever the wheeler-dealer, told me his nephew had a buyer lined up for my Bentley if I was ready to sell it. Joe talked to my flying lesson cousin. My aunt and uncle traded RVing stories with Bernie and his wife. Abu, Charlie, Cass and their respective spouses: Salina, Viscount Lanston, and Khala, enjoyed a good reunion. My old boss from Vancouver—the one who transferred me to Honolulu—got a huge hug and thank you—and a modest trust fund—from Derrick for his serendipitous role in our lives.

Cass was delighted to be reunited with his former nanny Giselle who was doing very well for herself.

Even Derrick’s Uncle Darius and his family, usually stiff and formal, relaxed and enjoyed themselves. Mrs. Stracht, Moniques mother, in her Dior dress, gleefully told them about her friendship with dear Paul Allen. May he rest in peace.

Don and Marco brought their children, of course, and circulated proudly introducing their young brood. Johnny was a crowd favorite. Don had called earlier in the day asking if they might bring their neighbors to the party. They didn’t give us their names, but said we’d probably recognize them. And who wouldn’t immediately recognize Barack and Michelle Obama!? They looked amazingly fit and relaxed. He was wearing Bermuda shorts and a Hawaiian shirt and she was wearing a white, hibiscus print sun dress. They often rented the house next door to Don and Marco, and when they heard the Deacons were having a get together asked if they might come and pay their respects. Gramps, Don and Uncle Darius were well known to them. Although the Deacons didn’t support political parties per se, the Dea-Con Foundation supported many organizations that might be considered ‘Democrat” including education and health initiatives. The Obamas stayed just long enough to say hello to Gramps and circulated just enough to say greet everyone briefly (no selfies allowed!). Although Jorge, Nick and Sam’s son, was delighted to get a second picture with the former first lady—he’d had a previous one taken when she’d visited his school as part of her literacy program many years ago. They’d heard of my work in preventative medicine and were very complimentary; their kind words meant a lot to me.

There were no speeches or presentations. The invitations made it clear that it was simply a day of love, friendship and celebration...just because. Our reward was mingling with all the people we truly cared about. There were many hugs, smiles and much laughter as the day progressed.

Gramps was looking tired and pale when he made an early departure. The day had taken its toll; I could tell his heart wasn’t holding out well. I apologized for the strain, and he reprimanded me. “I wouldn’t have missed it for the world! I may die a few days earlier, but seeing everyone like this is well worth it. And who the hell wants to linger beyond their time? Don’t you waste any regret on me you young wippersnapper!”

Epilogue: One year later

Sadly, Gramps passed away a few months ago. It was his time, and as sad as it was to lose him we all remember fondly his overwhelming generosity and warm spirit.

One month ago James and Monique welcomed a daughter, Rosalind Therèse Nichol to the world. James is, as the British Royals say, over the moon. We’re trying to free our schedule to travel to Nice to see her.

That’s hard to plan right now, because ‘Uncle’ Dane is impatiently awaiting the arrival of his nephew. We are overjoyed that Cass and Khala are expecting the arrival of a baby boy any day now. Khala is in fine health and is expecting a normal birth. Cass has promised to phone as soon as she goes into labor. Every second waiting seems like an hour! The jet is fueled and standing by. Khala’s mother is beside herself. Derrick and I are nervous wrecks—we’re going to be grandfathers!

Robert and Keno are settled happily into their new house. They just learned that Keno’s fifteen year old niece is expecting a child, and preliminary discussions are that Robert and Keno will adopt the baby. We are keeping our fingers crossed for them.

Mom and Alistair had their first group of young gay people to their facility. Apart from a few minor glitches it went very well. The Guardian Newspaper even wrote about it in a featured article.

Dane has completely settled in. His warm, loving personality is a source of joy and pride for Derrick and me. It took a while, but his insecurities are a thing of the past. He excels at school and still dances a ferocious hula.

Our amazing life goes on....

Final words: Well, I truly did...win the lottery!