Ranger - 10. The Screenings

May 2021

“Mom! You look gorgeous.” Brad air-kissed his mother, ensuring he did not smear her makeup. He had been warned to be careful. “And your hair looks awesome.” She had been to the salon earlier in the day and not a single strand of gray was visible.

Hilary smoothed the front of her lavender dress, flattening imaginary wrinkles. “Thanks. I decided to splurge on a new spring outfit since I’m going to rub elbows with the rich and famous.”

“I keep telling your mother she needs to splurge more often. She hardly buys herself anything.” Mac looked great in a dark navy suit, his crisp white shirt offset by a muted burgundy necktie. Brad liked his stepfather but was unaccustomed to seeing him wear anything but jeans and a t-shirt or grease-stained work coveralls. The owner of a garage, his usually oil covered hands had been scrubbed until no trace of dirt remained.

“You do realize you’ll get as much attention tonight as those rich and famous people you mentioned, right? You’ll be introduced as my parents, and people are gonna want to meet you.” Brad had flown into Boston earlier in the week, wanting to spend time with his parents and brother. They were waiting for Patrick to arrive before they left for the John F. Kennedy Presidential Library and Museum; the limousine and driver hired for the evening had arrived a few minutes before.

The front door opening drew the attention of all three. “Sorry I’m running late, traffic was a pain.” Patrick Kennedy, a student at Boston College, had turned down offers from both sets of parents to buy him a vehicle. He claimed public transportation and an occasional Uber or Lyft ride served his purposes, were cheaper, and better for the environment. Due to the lateness of the hour, the previous night he had borrowed Mac’s truck after the four had gone to dinner.

“You shoulda left earlier, bro. Remember: proper, prior, planning prevents piss poor performance.” While the brothers bumped fists and chuckled, Mac and Hilary appeared utterly confused.

“You boys wanna explain what that was?”

“The seven Ps?” Brad bowed as if in front of a monarch and swept an arm in his brother’s direction. “Do the honors, Paddy.”

“Okaaay… It’s sort of The Squad’s motto. We heard it constantly through high school, and graduation did not make it go away.”

“Let me guess. CJ?” Mac appeared certain his stepsons’ best friend—the acknowledged leader of their group—was at the root of the saying.

“Got it in one. The fucker—“

Before either Hilary or Mac could object to Brad’s colorful verbiage, Patrick did so. “Language, Bradley. You better not drop F-bombs tonight. These are classy people we’re hanging out with.”

“CJ’s lived by those words as long as I’ve known him, Mac. He said them so often we started repeating them.” Brad shifted his gaze from his parents to his brother. “They ain’t necessarily classy, Paddy. They’re just filthy rich. Don’t worry. I’ll be on my best behavior, trying to talk them out of their money.”

As usual when CJ was directly or indirectly involved, the evening’s event was the culmination of a fortuitous series of occurrences. The head squaddie met Massachusetts Congressman Joseph Kennedy III at the 2016 Democratic Party Convention in Philadelphia. Shortly after returning home to Washington, the fact his next-door neighbors and friends were related to the heralded Kennedy family came to light.

“Joe asked about you when he called earlier.” Brad leaned down slightly and adjusted the knot on his brother’s tie.

“The job?” The head of Congressman Kennedy’s Boston office had offered Patrick a position in their district office. He had turned it down, claiming the proposal had most likely been made due to them being distant relatives.

“Yeah, expect a full-court press tonight.”

“Whatever.” Patrick waved a hand in a dismissive gesture. “I’m not spending my summer making copies and coffee inside an office. I’ll be working with kids again, teaching them how to skate and play hockey. The Bruins want me back.” The Boston Bruins were the city’s National Hockey League team, and Patrick had worked for them the previous summer. He gave his brother a crooked grin. “All I’m interested in is you raising lots of money.”

When CJ became involved with Heroes Haven, Congressman Kennedy was one of the first individuals he sought out. The organization asked for assistance ensuring community residents could avail themselves of all the benefits due them. Joe Kennedy rattled cages at the Department of Veterans Affairs, and the bureaucrats’ delays and lack of response vanished as if by magic.

At his request, the Congressman was kept aware of Brad’s recovery after losing his legs. When Brad called to let his distant cousin know he was moving to Heroes Haven and why, Joe Kennedy asked for updates on the documentary’s progress. When completed, he arranged for an early, private screening for lawmakers. Brad was the guest of honor.

“Dude, our cousin’s a master at twisting arms. You should have seen him in action in Washington. I wore my dress uniform like he asked me to, and then realized it was all so he could shame some of his fellow politicians into supporting veterans. He used me as if I was a cheap ho at the no-tell-motel, and I was happy to be used.”

“Bradley! Please?”

“Sorry, Mom.” Brad tried to clean up his language when around his mother, but as he had once told Mac, “I can’t fucking help the shit that comes out of my mouth.”

“Are we all ready?” Mac stood at the door with his hand on the handle. “I know Brad’s the man of the hour and can get away with almost anything, but I’d like not to be late. I’m already gonna feel self-conscious enough. Car mechanics don’t often hang with millionaires.”

The private screening at the Kennedy Library was arranged at the request of Joe Kennedy and his cousin, Ambassador Caroline Kennedy, the daughter of the late President. A fundraiser for Heroes Haven, guests had paid a couple hundred dollars each to watch A Home for Warriors a week before it opened in theatres across the country. The goal was to turn those in attendance into ongoing supporters of the tiny-houses community.

“You’re full of shit, Mac.” Brad had spent a day at his stepfather’s place of business during the week and was well aware of the clientele. “Dude, I don’t think I saw anyone bring in anything costing less than a hundred grand the day I was there.” The small garage was popular with owners of Bentleys, Rolls Royces, Jaguars, and other expensive foreign cars. Mac was not about to become as wealthy as them, but he made a good living off it.

“Don’t exaggerate, Bradley.” Mac was not boastful, but his customers were not the type to shop at thrift stores. “We have some wealthy clients, but we service all sort of cars.”

“It’s wonderful to be back in Beantown.” Brad’s opening line prior to the screening would haunt him the next day when an article in The Boston Globe referred to him as Beantown Brad. “I’d like to thank my cousins, Congressman Joe Kennedy and Ambassador Caroline Kennedy, for inviting us to share our documentary in this wonderful place. I believe President Kennedy would approve of Heroes Haven’s efforts to assist military veterans. After all, Jack Kennedy was one of us, having proudly served his country during World War II.”

Aware Brad had free time prior to starting school later in the year, the production team behind A Home for Warriors created a script for him to follow during interviews and private screenings. The goals were to increase contributions to Heroes Haven and improve the lot of homeless vets in general. He agreed to introduce the film and guide discussion of the highlighted issues during pre- and post-screening chats. The first week in June, he would be in Colorado Springs; the Air Force Academy had agreed to screen the film for its cadets and invited him to introduce it.

“Finally”—Brad had spoken for fifteen minutes or so—“I’d like to thank my family for their continued support. And I’d like to ask all of you to include Heroes Haven in your portfolio of supported charitable organizations. The lives of homeless vets could well depend on your generosity.”

“Are you happy with tonight?” Patrick sat next to his brother in the back of the limousine, opposite Hilary and Mac.

“I guess. The dog and pony show’s gonna get old damn quick, but as long as I can squeeze a few dollars out of people…”

“You did well, Brad.” Mac patted his stepson’s knee. “I was impressed with your eloquence.”

“Ha! That wasn’t me. Most of the script was written by others.”

Hilary shook her head and sighed. “I really wish you’d stop selling yourself short, Bradley. Even presidents have others write their speeches. It’s your delivery, your passion and conviction while reciting those words that make them your own. That ovation was more than polite applause.”

“What are you doing tomorrow? Wanna go to Sunday mass with me?” Patrick had brought a bag with him and planned to spend the night.

The invitation surprised Bradley. He could not remember the last time he had stepped inside a church. “Thanks, but no thanks. You know I don’t feel the same way you do about religion. Priests do nothing for me.”

“That doesn’t matter, Brad. Think of it as a chance to spend a little time with me in a relaxed setting.”

“Relaxed, my ass. You know damn well people are gonna stare because of how I walk.” Brad’s gait continued to hint at his lack of real legs. “Then a brave soul will ask why I do it in a funny way. The pity and promises to pray for me will most likely make me puke.”

“You’re exaggerating, but fine. Then how about meeting me after for coffee with Grandma Kennedy?”

“Say what?” Brad’s volume was higher and his tone shocked. “Why would I want to spend time with the miserable bitch? And why the hell are you?” Anger crept into his voice.

“Long story. But I’ll have you know she apologized to me, asks about you all the time, and would love the opportunity to say she’s sorry.”

“Not gonna happen, Paddy. The person she and her husband need to apologize to is Dad. When they do that, I’ll consider talking to them.”

“It would only be Grandma. Our grandfather’s not the type to admit he was wrong. At least not yet, but I’ve been praying.”

“Then she should dump his sorry ass. Last time I saw them, I told him I would beat the shit out of him if he made trouble for any of us. I stand by my words.” That conversation, while attending high school in Washington and visiting Boston, had slammed the door shut on Brad’s relationship with his grandparents. “I hope the fucker dies painfully and alone. I still can’t understand how he could banish Dad from the family just for being gay.”

Hilary and Mac had remained quiet during the exchange, but Mac appeared proud of how Bradley stood up for his father, and told him so later.

Hilary seemed sad. “You should let go of your anger, Bradley. It doesn’t do you any good. If you—”

“Don’t, Mom. I don’t wanna hear it. The day those two horrible people admit they were wrong and apologize to Dad, I’ll consider talking to them.”

The remainder of the ride was made in silence and not much was said once back home. Patrick said goodbye the following morning, claiming he had to study after mass. Brad caught a flight back to Washington in the late afternoon.

“Hey, isn’t that what’s his name and his boyfriend?” Brad’s whispered comment made his companions chuckle.

Mark Strong grasped Brad’s shoulder and gave him a gentle shake. “You better think of their names quickly, Red. They’re walking this way.”

Four days after the screening of A Home for Warriors at the John F. Kennedy Presidential Library and Museum in Boston, on the Wednesday before Memorial Day, the John F. Kennedy Center for the Performing Arts hosted the documentary’s official premiere. The distribution company’s marketing department had highlighted the connection between the two showings at venues honoring the late president, and Brad’s ties to Boston and the Kennedy family.

Chuckling, CJ came to Brad’s rescue. “The scruffy one’s Riley. He plays for the Skins. The clean-shaven one’s Phil. He’s with the Ravens.”

Riley Knight and Phil Martinez had turned the football world upside down the previous year. Riley, a Georgia country boy and wide receiver for the University of Georgia Bulldogs, was chosen by the Washington Redskins with the fourth pick in the National Football League’s player draft.

Phil, a Cuban-American from Miami who played tight end with the Duke Blue Devils, went to the Baltimore Ravens with the twenty-fourth selection. He was the one to light the fuse of controversy when during interviews afterward outed them as boyfriends. Once play began in late summer, the men quieted most critics with outstanding rookie years. Homophobic comments from certain fans had shadowed them through season’s end.

“Sergeant Kennedy, my name’s Riley Knight and this is my boyfriend Phil Martinez.” Both football players wore jeans, open-neck dress shirts, and sports jackets. “We wanted to introduce ourselves and thank you for your service to our country.”

“Yeah… And we wanted to find out how we can get one of those snazzy polo shirts,” Phil added.

Most Heroes Haven residents had accepted an invitation to the event, rode from Delaware to Washington in a chartered bus, and wore shirts with the community’s logo.

“They’re available for purchase on their website.” CJ, his husband, and their one-year-old daughter were moving to Mexico at the end of summer. When the state department announced his posting to the Mexico City embassy, CJ resigned from the organization’s board of directors. His two final actions were recommending his father, retired Marine Corps Captain Brett Davenport, as his replacement and insisting Heroes Haven branded merchandise be sold on their web page. “But if you guys stop by our house, I have extra ones.”

“You’re CJ, right? One of the money guys? Garrett, our agent, mentioned you’re also from Miami?” Phil extended his hand to shake.

“That’s me.” CJ smiled as he looked up into Phil’s eyes; both football players towered over the four men they had approached. “This is my husband, Owen. He and my dads were the other ones behind the scenes.”

“You’re the reason we’re here tonight. Garrett somehow got his hands on two tickets and said we had to show up. Something about you, your husband, and your fathers being role models for us. Showing how a gay couple could rise above the noise of our sexual orientation and be good citizens.”

“Role models, mate?” Owen shook his head while laughing. “I’m a few years older, but I hope you realize you guys are about the same age as CJ and Brad, right?”

CJ elbowed his husband. “Shut up, Oz. Just because I’m usually the youngest one in the group doesn’t mean I can’t set a good example.”

“Age don’t matter, dude. You know? From what our agent told us, you guys are the type of people Riley and I should be hanging with.” Phil had taken over the conversation and Riley did not seem to mind. “You have any idea what it’s like when we walk into a gay bar? Someone recognizes one of us and next thing you know everyone’s asking for selfies and autographs. That’s before they try groping us and slipping us their phone numbers.” Riley nodded his agreement. “We’d rather spend time with people we like and trust instead of followers trying to get in bed with us.”

“Bad timing, Phil.” Owen draped an arm over CJ’s shoulders. “We’re moving out of the country in September. But hey, we’ll be back on a regular basis. We can meet up when we do.”

CJ picked up the conversation’s thread. “What are you guys doing this weekend? We’re having a few close friends over on Monday for a Memorial Day barbeque. I think you’ll enjoy meeting our group. Although I gotta warn you most of them are straight.”

“Dude, who do you think we socialize with most of the time? It’s all straight football players and their women. You know? Kinda cool you don’t live in a gay bubble.”

“What’s your number, Phil?” CJ retrieved his phone from the back pocket of his jeans; he and Owen had dressed down, wearing Heroes Haven shirts to match the residents. “I’ll text you our address and that way you’ll also have my number. Us Miami boys have to stick together.”

“Did you go to high school in Miami?”

“One year at Christopher Columbus. Then I moved to DC. Where did you go?”

“Proud public school product. South Miami High.”

“Dude, join the club. I went to public school here in Washington.”

“So, where do you guys live?”

“Capitol Hill. That’s—“

“We know where that is!” Riley was obviously excited. “Phil and I just bought a row house there. We’re just south of Independence on fourth.”

“Man, we can walk to each other’s houses. When did you move in?”

“We haven’t. The place’s been subdivided into rental units and we want to turn it back into one house. You wouldn’t happen to know a good contractor we could hire, would you?”

The hearty laughter attracted the attention of other stragglers mingling in the lobby. Owen was somehow able to get a few words out. “Riley, this is your lucky day. Let me go find my in-laws so you can meet them.”

“Is he going to get your fathers?” Phil asked CJ.

“Yep. My dads own a real estate development company. My uncle and cousins have a construction business in Chicago. We did some remodeling at my place, and the family handled all the work. The Chicago Abellós have a lot of experience with historical structures.”

“Some remodeling, my ass. They gutted this old house and rebuilt the whole thing. You guys should definitely come by on Monday. You’ll get ideas for your place and a chance to meet our other friends. A couple of them are rabid football fans, so you’ll get lots of attention.” Brad’s grin was infectious and CJ nodded vigorously.

“We get enough of that already, Brad. About the only place we get treated like normal human beings is whenever we’re In Miami visiting Phil’s family. In Macon, where I’m from, the local paper has a story about me being in town whenever I visit my parents. Neighbors, relatives, and complete strangers at times, feel the need to stop by. Supposedly, they just want to say hello. But selfies and autographs are always part of the deal.”

“It won’t be bad, man. And if you spend enough time with us, sooner or later people will ignore you and focus on CJ. He’s the one who always gets the attention and the publicity.”

“Asshole!”

A Home for Warriors opened in theaters across the country the following day. Although it did not break any opening-day box office records, the reception satisfied those involved in the production. Critics raved about the realism and engendered Academy Awards nomination chatter.

The movie ended with a tribute to Henrik Green, and donations in his memory flooded in. Brad was pleased with the outcome.