Flying Circus - 6. The Marine

Tuesday, 4 May 2027
Sa Dragonera

Brett looked up from his tablet when CJ joined him and César on the upper deck. “You missed the sunrise. It was fan-fuckin’-tastic.”

“Morning, buddy. I’m surprised you slept so late.” César and Brett were accustomed to their eldest being up before the sun rose.

“Ha! Shows what you know. I woke early, sneaked into the empty galley to make myself a cup of coffee, went back to the cabin, and caught the sun coming up through a porthole. I wanted to send a few emails so people could read them when they get to the office.”

“What about the kids and Ozzie? Are they up?”

“Ozzie’s awake but burrowed his head under a pillow when I asked if he wanted coffee or tea. The kids were just getting up when I came out now. I sent them to get in bed with their other father and to stay there for a while.”

“Someone on the crew started the coffeemaker behind the bar in the main salon. Must have been after your initial foray.” Brett tried to look as innocent as he could when he raised his empty mug. “Since you’re standing, wanna get me a refill? I’m in the middle of a good story and don’t want to stop until the end of this chapter.”

CJ nodded and took the mug. “What you reading?”

“Gone Away, Gone Ahead. By someone named Mawgrim. I found it on that story site you like so much.”

“Gay Authors?”

Brett nodded.

“What’s it about?”

“Fanfic for Anne McCaffrey’s dragons. But with a gay twist.”

“Really? I remember discovering all her books on your shelves when I moved to D.C. and enjoying the heck out of them. I’ll have to give that one a try.”

 

“We have orange and guava.” Guava juice in the mornings had been mentioned on the preference sheet. “Who wants which?” Kimberly, the lead steward, held two carafes aloft.

“Guava!” The response came from the three kids at the same time.

“I’m surprised. Usually, our youngest guests clamor for OJ. Or a Coke.”

Ritch saluted her with his can. “I think I’m the only one who switches between coffee, sodas, and energy drinks in the morning.” He pointed at his niece and nephews. “As for those three, I remember Liebe returning from her first trip to Australia hooked on guava juice. And, of course, her brothers follow her lead.”

“Being from Australia, I’m embarrassed to say I don’t know where guavas are grown back home.” Having already discussed Owen hailing from New South Wales, she directed her comment at him.

“Not in the Hunter Valley, but in NSW’s north and Queensland. The fruit’s native to Mexico and Central America, so when we lived in Mexico City, she ate fresh fruit and guava everything.”

“You guys lived in Mexico?”

“We did until someone kidnapped me, and CJ shot him.” Liebe spoke matter-of-factly until she smiled at her father. “Our dads are kickass.”

“Liebe! Language.”

“Oh my gosh! When did this happen? How old were you?” Kimberly looked and sounded appalled.

“She was two, and the whole thing scared the crap out of all of us,” Brett replied for his granddaughter. “Google it. This was five years ago, and it was in the news for a while. Especially after CJ wrote his book and the movie came out.”

“Oh, I will. For sure. She sounds awfully well-adjusted for having had such an experience.”

Owen shrugged. “Lots of open, frank conversations over the past five years. And as she’s gotten older, we’ve discussed it in more detail, including the kidnapper’s motives.”

“He was dumb. His mom was sick, and he wanted money to help her. He should have asked the dads, and they would have given it to him.”

“You sound smarter every time I listen to you, Liebe.” Kim still looked shocked. “Anyway, the chef’s breakfast special’s a spinach and feta frittata with grilled Greek sausages. Or you can order eggs any way you like them.”

Owen exchanged a glance and a nod with CJ. “The frittatas sound great. The kids, CJ, and I will have them.”

Realizing everyone agreed, Brett placed the order for them. “Based on all the nodding, make it the same for everyone. That should be easy.”

The fresh pita bread accompanying their meal was the biggest hit. The chef had to send up a second basket when the initial one was emptied rather quickly. Kimberly lingered after delivering it to the table. “I took a quick look on my phone while waiting for these to be ready, Mr. Mayor. I assume Diplomat Dad is about your time in Mexico, but you’ve written more than just that one.”

“You better be careful, Kim. He seems to write about all his adventures. I wouldn’t be surprised if we get, at a minimum, a short story about this trip. If he convinces his backers to turn it into a movie too, you might end up being famous.” Before Brett could finish, CJ was already shaking his head.

“Nope. Not gonna happen. Maybe a magazine article, but not anytime soon. I have too much on my plate to write more than a few scribbles in my journal these days.”

“Kim, I have a favor to ask.”

Lucy was usually the least demanding when they all gathered, and Brett wondered what she could need.

“Could I borrow an iron or a steamer? I have a top I want to wear tomorrow, but it’s too wrinkled right now.”

César raised his hand. “We do too. Our shirts are a mess.”

Kimberly grinned. “Before the Mayor and Mr. Liston say a word, how about I have one of the other stews stop downstairs after you finish breakfast? We’ll collect all the shirts and get them ready for you.”

“Thanks, Kim. That would be fantastic.”

 

“CJ!” With the doors to their cabins open, everyone heard Lucy’s shout.

Brett and César stopped at the threshold to theirs when CJ stepped into Lucy and Ritch’s.

“What’s wrong?” He sounded worried.

“Your brother handed me a wife-beater and a white crewneck t-shirt, asking which one I thought he should wear tomorrow. I told him neither was acceptable.” While she sounded exasperated, Ritch looked sheepish. “I hope one of you guys has something he can borrow.”

Brett cracked up. “Welcome to the big leagues, Flyboy. If I had a dollar for every time your other dad’s forced me to change—”

“You’d have a fistful of dollars and nothing else.” César gentled Brett out of the way and motioned for Ritch to come to their cabin. “Don’t worry, Lucy. We’ll find something acceptable for him to wear.”

 

“We don’t have to use them?” Liebe sounded surprised when she went to take a safety vest, and Owen stopped her.

“The Captain told CJ it was up to us if you did or not. You don't have to when we’re on deck or just swimming near the boat. But you might at other times.”

The response was one girl and two boys screaming while running down the stairs to the swim platform and cannonballing into the sea. CJ was already in the water and ensured they were alive once they bobbed to the surface. The other adults followed the kids.

“Here, I’ll give you a boost.” Brett grabbed one of his grandsons by the waist and lifted him on top of the inflatable trampoline the boy had been trying to scale. Done, he turned to the other one. “Come closer, Roo, I’ll toss you up there.”

“I’m Jeffer, Grandpa Cap.” The kid pointed at his brother, already bouncing atop the contraption. Both had picked up tumbling at Gymboree, and whichever twin was on the trampoline was showing off. “He’s Roo.”

“No, I’m not. I’m Jeffer. He’s Roo.” Both dissolving into laughter was a good indicator they were trying to fool their grandfather.

“Really? That’s how you two want to play it? I think I need to come up there and figure out who’s who.” Brett grabbed one of the lines tethering the inflatable to the Flying Circus and hoisted himself up. “Let’s see who can jump higher.”

Two four-year-olds barely made it move; an adult weighing nearly 200 pounds did. Brett’s first jump knocked the kids on their behinds and made them laugh again. A moment later, both attacked their grandfather. They grabbed his legs, trying to knock him down, but the Marine kept his balance.

“That’s it. I don’t want either one of you up here with me anymore.” Brett grabbed one of the kids and threw him to the ship’s port side. A moment later, the other one went flying starboard way. The howling was pure joy, and Brett, enjoying himself, joined in with his grandsons. They sounded like a pack of starving wolves.

“You know they’re gonna come back wanting more of the same, right?” César had joined his husband, and both leaned back on their elbows, watching the boys swim around their fathers.

“Can you believe those little shits tried to pull the wrong twin stunt on me?”

César cracked up. “Just wait until they’re teenagers and do it. I feel sorry for whomever they date. Betcha they’ll pull the switcheroo on them.”

“Let’s hope they’re both either gay or straight. Otherwise, it could get confusing.”

“Grandpa Cap! Grandpa Cap! They have a slide on this side of the boat.” Until that moment, the kids had not realized the crew had draped the inflatable from the top deck down one side of the vessel.

“I’m going first. I’m going first.” Liebe had avoided the trampoline while her brothers were on it and was closest to the swim platform. She scampered aboard, ran up three flights of stairs, and waved at the family before plunging headfirst down the slide.

“She’s as fearless as the boys.” César and Brett had rolled off the trampoline and made their way to the top of the slide. There, they found James Lord, the youngest and sole American deckhand, squirting dishwashing detergent on the plastic surface to make it easier for everyone to slide. “Pour a little more on, Jimbo. I don’t want to get stuck halfway down.” The deckhand grinned and complied.

Ritch and Lucy had remained in the water to watch as the kids splashed in the sea. Once CJ and Owen had plunged down it, the younger couple took their turn. Sliding solo was soon replaced with a kid and an adult doing it together, and eventually, all three kids as one.

On the other side of Flying Circus, the crew had lowered two jet skis into the water. As soon as Roosevelt and Jefferson saw them, the slide was temporarily forgotten while they clamored for a ride. Brett had noticed and was ready for them. “Fine, Grandpa A and I will take you guys, but you have to wear life vests and helmets.” Brett noticed CJ and Owen nodding.

Afterward, Liebe rode with Ritch while Lucy had her own machine. They were eventually replaced by CJ and Owen, taking a turn, each with a twin. Between the slide, trampoline, and jet skis, time did not matter. Spurred by the kids, the adults moved from one toy to the other with barely a rest.

“Captain Davenport? Would you like us to delay lunch?”

Brett was surprised when Kimberly called out from the platform. Looking at his watch, he was amazed at how long they had been in the water. No wonder his fingertips looked like prunes. Putting a couple of those fingers to his lips, the ensuing, ear-splitting whistle captured everyone’s attention. “Time to get out, troops. Chow line’s open.”

Lucy slipped on a t-shirt over her bikini, but the rest of the group simply dried off and sat at the table. Lunch was again enjoyable except for the kids acting up. CJ’s exasperation got the better of him when they made to leave the table before the adults were finished. “Where the heck do you think you’re going?”

The twins looked at Liebe, and she spoke for them. “The slide. You guys are gonna be here forever talking, and we’ll be bored. Someone in the crew can watch us.”

“Nope. You stay here until we’re all done.”

Owen piled it on. “You’re being rude, Liebe. I think you know better than to leave the table while others are still eating. Sit.”

“But you guys are done! You’re just drinking now.”

“I said no, Liebe. Sit.”

“But, Oz—”

“Which part of no did you not understand?” CJ turned his attention to the boys. “You two better sit too. If you keep annoying us, we’ll tell the crew to bring the slide in, and you won’t get to go down it again.”

Owen backed up his husband by nodding. César and Lucy maintained a neutral expression, but Brett grinned like a fool. Ritch did not keep his mouth shut.

“Harsh, bro. You wouldn’t do that to them. Boys just wanna have fun.”

“I wouldn’t?” CJ’s evil smile made Brett grin even more. “Go ahead. Ask them if I ever go back on my threats.”

Ritch looked surprised when somber-looking kids shook their heads.

 

Eventually, CJ capitulated. He chugged the last of his drink, stood, and dashed toward the stairs to the upper deck. “Last one down the slide’s a rotten egg!” Three blurs chased him. Ritch was the rotten egg.

The earlier exertions and the time spent in the water after lunch tired the kids. CJ promised to take care of them, so the other adults remained in the sea. Since he did not return when expected, Owen went in search of him. With a finger to his lips, asking for silence, he returned to fetch the others.

“What’s going on?” Brett was promptly shushed.

When Owen replied, he did it so quietly Brett barely heard him. “Cuddle puddle.”

“What?”

“Damn, Grandpa Cap, did you forget how to follow orders? Or is your hearing aid not working? I said quiet. We don’t want to wake them up.”

“Who? The kids?”

“Come see.”

Owen stood outside the main salon and wouldn’t let anyone activate the sliding door. He pointed at the oversized couch where CJ and the kids were asleep. It was hard to discern which little arm or leg belonged to which twin; they were entwined with each other, their sister, and their father.

“They do this whenever CJ’s home during nap time. Mostly weekends. My four angels.”

“Angels, my ass.” Ritch’s backslap rocked Owen. “They’re probably faking and plotting how to get in trouble.”

“Shut up, Ritch. You’re not allowed to make fun of them.” Lucy wagged a finger at him. “They look adorable, and you’re going to let them sleep in peace. Do you hear me?”

“Yes, ma’am!” The textbook-perfect salute earned him a butt slap.

 

“I have a question for you, Cap. When did you start planning this trip, and why the Med?” Lucy and the others had adjourned to the padded platform around the hot tub to sunbathe.

“I don’t remember when I first asked César what he wanted to do for his fiftieth, but he’s the reason for sailing.”

“When he did, I said I wanted uninterrupted family time. We see CJ, Ozzie, and the kids all the time, but I’m always left wanting more. Like when you finish a good book and wish the author would publish a sequel right away. And we definitely don’t get to spend this much time with you and Ritch either.”

“And with CJ’s time being so tight these days, it was either this or renting a secluded island somewhere.” Brett handed César a bottle of suntan oil and pointed at his back. “Wanna oil me up? We’ve all done the Caribbean, and I wanted a place where language wouldn’t be a barrier.”

Ritch cracked up. “Do it, Dad. Oil Papa up. Then I wanna see you two wrestle.”

“You’re such a wanker.” Owen tried to slap Ritch’s arm, but he scooted away closer to Lucy. “What do you want to do for your fiftieth, Cap? Another family trip?”

“Fuck no! Unlike my dear husband, I’m happy seeing you guys for a bit and moving on.”

“How rude!”

“Yeah, well, shit happens. Anyway, Ozzie, I haven’t decided, but if I haven’t done it yet, when my fiftieth rolls around, I’d love to surf Portugal.” The country sharing the Iberian Peninsula with Spain was known for outstanding breaks and monster waves. “Maybe do that for a weekend, then board the Orient Express. Just the two of us, though. I think I’d like to cross Europe from one end to the other.” The Orient Express, founded by a Belgian company in the late Nineteenth Century, traveled between Paris and Istanbul for years. The service was discontinued at one point, resumed with a shortened itinerary, and had recently revived long-distance passenger train service during the summer months.

“Don’t let my husband hear about it, or he’ll invite himself along. CJ has a fixation with rail travel.”

“Someone say my name?” CJ stood outside the salon doors, stretching. “Those damn kids were suffocating me. But keep it down; I slipped out without waking them.”

“Your father said he’s considering the Orient Express for his fiftieth and—”

“That’s awesome! I can’t wait. I love trains. The kids would have a blast.”

“Not happening.” Brett shook his head. “I don’t like any of you enough. I already said it’ll be me and César. Alone. And anyway, considering how much money you getting elected’s costing us…”

CJ looked confused. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“Conflicts of interests. Since you’re the mayor, and you asked, we’ve stopped pitching the city projects. We’re missing out on installing charging stations on public property, and even our low-income housing developments are likely to stall.”

A few years before, when electric vehicles became the rage, Third Line Development began installing charging stations at their projects. When a couple of hotels in the area approached them, seeking to place units on their properties, Brett and César had turned the business segment into its own company. A very profitable venture.

“I understand about the charging stations, but you have more than enough business in the private sector.”

“We could have more installing them on city properties.”

“Don’t be a greedy sod, Cap.” Owen was graced with a middle finger.

“Sorry, Papa, but I want to avoid any semblance of favoritism, which is why I don’t want you dealing with the city for more than permits while I’m in office.” CJ had also been apologetic when he first asked.

“Actually, we may not need to.” César had allowed Brett to rant but appeared ready to contradict his husband. “A Chinese company approached us about a possible joint venture. They have land in a couple of places in the DMV they’re interested in developing.”

“Chinese or Chinese-American?”

“Not sure, CJ. But they’re proposing contributing the land to the effort, we develop it, and own an equal share of whatever we build. What difference does it make?”

CJ reached for Owen’s phone since his was on the couch with the kids. “What’s the company’s name?” When César shared it after looking at his phone, CJ tapped at the screen. “Let’s give him a minute to reply.”

“Who?”

“A friend. I asked him what he knew about the company.”

“And why would your friend know anything about them?”

“I’m guessing he texted someone at the CIA.” Owen’s comment made CJ nod.

“The CIA? What the hell for?” Brett sounded confused.

“Because the Chinese—” The phone pinging interrupted CJ. “Yeah, just what I feared. Sorry, Dads. You can’t do business with them.”

“And why the fuck not? If we do, we could end up making a lot of money. You trying to take food from our table?” Brett has already realized their son’s career would influence his and César’s lives in ways they had not anticipated.

“Really, Cap? You can afford this trip but not food? Give it up. I’m not buying it, and I don’t think anyone else is either.” Owen’s sarcasm earned him a middle finger again.

“The company wanting to do business with you is owned by Chinese intelligence. It’s probably a plot to get to me.”

“You’re so full of shit. Believe it or not, the world does not revolve around you. Why would the Chinese want to get to you?”

“Not sure, but if you recall, I was approached by them while in Mexico. The guy who did is now at their consulate in New York, and he drops me a line now and then. All friendly-like. The CIA thinks they’re playing the long game.”

“You’re Washington’s mayor, kid. You’re not the country’s president.”

Ritch had the last word on the subject. “For now.”

 

“Excuse me for interrupting.” Wolf, the deckhand, stood near them next to the head steward. “Before Kim takes drink orders, I wanted to let you know we’re putting all the toys away, getting ready to move Flying Circus.”

“Where we going?”

Wolf pointed at Mallorca across the narrow channel. “Punta del Toro. It’s the national park near where your friends are meeting us tomorrow. We’ll anchor and overnight in the cove next to it.”

“Sounds good.”

“One other thing, Captain Davenport. Since you and Mr. Abelló are traveling with clubs, I wondered if you’d like to hit balls off the back. The ones we use are made of compressed fish food in case any of you are concerned with polluting the sea.”

CJ rolled his eyes. “He’s talking about you, Ozzie.”

“Hush, CJ. Leave me alone, okay? I haven’t even complained about the carbon footprint of this entire trip.”

César apparently wanted to cut the conversation short. “That sounds like fun, Wolf. I’ll be ready to tee off as soon as we anchor. Let’s get this show on the road.”

Motoring between Sa Dragonera and their destination, the captain took her time. “I don’t think she wants to get there too early. She’d probably prefer not to haul all the toys out again just for an hour or two.”

 

“You’re getting good at this shit.” Brett watched CJ hit the ball nearly as far as César had. “So, which country club are you gonna join? Washington or Congressional? I figure with you being mayor and all, you’ll get to skip to the front of the line.” Both clubs had an estimated waiting time of ten years to join.

“Neither. I don’t feel like spending close to 200 grand on the initiation fee, another twenty every year on dues, plus ground and cart fees. And I don’t want special favors because of my position.”

“Yeah, Grandpa Cap. Stop trying to spend our money. No matter how much you bitch about lost business, you still have enough of your own. And we think you should spend your loot first.” Owen hit the ball the furthest and did a little dance to celebrate. “And anyway, we get to play those courses frequently. Either friends or supplicants invite us.”

“What’s supplicants?” The kids had slept through the passage and anchoring in the picturesque cove but were now awake.

“I want to hit a ball!”

“Me too!”

Liebe’s inquisitiveness and the twins’ eagerness to try anything were par for the course. The three stood atop the stairs leading to the platform.

“Come here, Munchkin.” CJ waved for her to join them. “A supplicant’s somebody that comes asking for a favor. You wanna hit a ball or two?”

She hesitated before replying. “Sure. But the boys better not get upset when I do it better than them.”

Ritch leaned down and kissed the top of her head. “That’s my niece! Fearless and cocky!”

“Don’t encourage her, bro. She’s already sassy enough.”

The clubs were too long for the kids, so an adult helped hold them and swing. The interlude ended when every fish-food ball had plunged into the sea, and the family retired to clean up and dress for dinner.

 

After finishing their meals, the kids pestered the adults for something to do. Liebe once again acted as spokesperson for her brothers. “We’re bored, Grandpa Cap. Can we go swimming again?”

He glanced at CJ and Owen, expecting help, but none was offered. “Fine! If your parents don’t want to help, time for me to make another executive decision. They have a big TV in the salon. The three of you should brush your teeth and change into PJs. I’ll pick something to watch.” CJ and Owen limited screen time for all three, encouraging them to play outdoors or read if inside.

With César’s warning everyone that Brett’s pick might not be appropriate for the kids, the Marine chose the original Pirates of the Caribbean. “It’s rated PG-13, and their fathers aren’t complaining. Stop being such a damn old fart.”

The kids fell asleep before the movie ended.

After helping them to bed, CJ and Owen returned to find everyone in the hot tub nursing cocktails. They stripped off their shirts, ready to join the others, when one of the stewards offered them a drink. “Port?” Owen smiled when CJ concurred with a nod.

“Wyatt?”

“Yes, Captain Davenport.”

“Are we allowed to go skinny dipping?”

The steward grinned while nodding. “It’s your boat this week, Captain. As long as nobody’s life’s endangered, and you don’t break local laws, you can do as you please.”

Brett replied by standing, dropping his shorts, and running to the railing. Grabbing his genitals to protect them, he jumped. “GERONIMO!” The next sound heard was a loud splash.

Moments later, CJ cannonballed next to him. Ritch followed within seconds. They had gone commando as their father had, and Ritch complained his balls hurt when he did not break the surface cleanly. Even Lucy shed her top but kept her bottoms on once she decided to jump in.

“Look up. We’ve got a sky full of stars.” Brett unnecessarily pointed a finger upwards. With no light pollution to speak of, constellations crowded each other. It was a spectacle not seen in large urban environments like Washington.

“Okay, that alone makes the trip worth it.” César moved closer and wrapped himself around Brett. “Remember doing this in Guadalupe? We took the kayaks out at night and lost track of time staring at the Milky Way.”

“Yep. I love seeing all these stars, but you’re the only one that matters. Almost midnight, Grandpa A. Happy birthday.” The torrid kiss confirmed for Brett what he often said: the day he met César was the luckiest one in his life.