The Brilliant Boy Billionaire - 52. The Neighbors

“Let me get this straight,” Kyle, one of the sales agents, said, “You’re interested in photography as a hobby, but you’ve no experience other than with your smartphone camera.” I was looking at cameras at B&H Photo while Henry was at NYU filling out the necessary paperwork to enter the Ph.D. program in mathematics.

“That’s right,” I reiterated. “I’ve been learning about photography from friends who have good equipment. One of them had a Sony a7C and another had a Sony RX-something but said if they could have any camera in the world, it would be a Leica SL2.” The guy practically choked when I said that.

“The Sony RX100 series cameras are among the best point-and-shoot cameras you can buy, but the newest model runs around $1300. If all you want is a step up from your phone, any $200 camera will do.”

“I understand what you’re saying, but I plan to take a trip this summer and want to photograph nature,” I explained. “I want something with a sharp, long-range, zoom lens and a sensor big enough to capture the subtle detail that’s lost in most point-and-shoot cameras. I want something a professional would use but compact enough to take with me on a hike without taking up my entire backpack. I plan to shoot in RAW and edit in Photoshop when I get home.”

“Do you have any idea how complicated Photoshop really is?” Kyle asked.

“I’m Adobe-certified in Photoshop,” I explained.

“What in the world do you do for a living that you’re certified in Photoshop, and yet you’ve never used a decent camera before?”

“I’m the head of artificial intelligence at Applazon’s new headquarters in New York,” I explained. “I designed a more efficient, more reliable data server that Applazon has deployed all over the world.”

“I guess that explains why you’d even consider a Leica SL2, but the SL2 is bulky and heavy. Although larger digital sensors generally yield better images,” Kyle continued, “they require larger, heavier lenses. If you’re looking for something small enough to carry on a hike, a one-inch sensor is still several times larger than what you find in most point-and-shoots. People wouldn’t shell out $1300 for the latest RX100 if it weren’t an excellent camera, and a lot of professionals buy it as their ‘travel camera’.”

“I’m leaning toward buying an APS-C camera such as the Sony a6800 or the Leica CL,” I responded, “or maybe the Nikon Z50.”

“If you want a Nikon, you should go with the Z7 or Z8 series, which are highly rated, but they aren’t cheap. I still think the Sony RX100 cameras might be enough for you for now, but if you want a mirrorless ILC, don’t rule out Olympus or Panasonic’s Lumix cameras. The micro-four-thirds sensor’s a bit smaller, but then so are the lenses. You shouldn’t necessarily reach for the newest model, either. Sony still makes the original a6000, and it’s a bargain. However, if money isn’t a consideration, you might want to take a look at Fuji cameras, which have some of the best optics on the market. The Fujifilm X-T5 with their 16-80mm lens is an unbeatable combination.”

“What about the X-Pro4?” I asked.

“The X-Pros are my favorite cameras, full stop,” Kyle explained. “They’re what some have come to call ‘Leica on a budget’. I have an X-Pro3 myself, and I’ll put the pictures I shoot up against Leica any day. I can sell you a Leica CL if you want one, but you’ll have a hell of a time finding lenses for it. The X-Pro4 adds in-camera OIS, but I don’t usually recommend it as a first camera. The display on the back has to be flipped down for use and is otherwise hidden away to conserve battery life. The viewfinder’s a hybrid optical and electronic one that takes a little getting used to. It’s a camera designed by pros for pros, but why take my word for it? Let’s take a look at some cameras.” He showed me floor models of the Sony a6800, the Leica CL, The Fujifilm X-T5 and X-Pro4, and even the Sony a7C for comparison.

There was no getting around it; I absolutely loved the Fuji X-Pro4. I decided to buy the camera body from Kyle so he’d get his well-earned commission on a camera that cost two grand. I ordered the lenses and flash from Applazon, and even with my employee discount, that came to an additional couple grand. For my standard lens I chose the Fujinon XF 18-55mm F2.8-4, which was wickedly fast for a zoom. For telephoto shots I ordered an XF 55-200mm F3.5-4.8, would get me amazingly close to distant action. However, Kyle had insisted that in bright daylight, a longer zoom range would be much more useful, so I ordered a third lens that I hadn’t planned on, an 18-135 F3.5-5.6. A 7.5X zoom might not sound like much compared to 30X superzoom point-and-shoot camera, but with interchangeable lenses, that kind of range was a big deal. In addition, I ordered the EF-X20 flash, a light-weight tripod, a camera case to hold all my gear, spare batteries with a spare charger and extra memory cards.

That night we saw the revival of West Side Story, which has some of the greatest music ever written for a musical, in my opinion, stereotypes notwithstanding. The next morning, we moved out of the Four Seasons and into our new condo.

<> <> <>

I was running as fast as my little legs could carry me. I’d just kneed my father in the balls, and I managed to escape from his grasp around my neck, but I knew it wouldn’t be long before he got up and ran after me. It was either him or me, and if he caught me, it would be all over. I was gasping for air as I tried to fill my lungs. I had to find a way to fight back. I needed his gun.

I knew that he kept a handgun behind the headboard of his bed, so I headed right for his bedroom. I passed through the open doorway and found myself in the cavernous space of the lab where we were working on the new prototype cabinet for the data server. It was unbearably hot as it usually was, and I could see the server right ahead of me, and I heard a hissing sound. There was a faint blue light coming from where I could see the oxygen escaping from the oxygen line, and Henry was standing there, holding my father’s gun! He aimed the gun right at the center of my chest and pulled the trigger, and then the oxygen tank exploded.

I sat bolt upright in bed, and then the lights came on as Henry sat next to me and put his arm around me. At first, I was disoriented and had no idea where I was, but Henry’s presence comforted me, and I felt safe. Slowly, I recognized where we were – in the master bedroom of our new condo in New York.

“You didn’t tell me you’re still having the nightmares,” Henry said.

“PTSD never really goes away,” I replied. “You can learn to face it, to make peace with it, but the underlying trauma will always be there. I’m lucky enough to have survived not one but two traumatic events: shooting and killing the man I thought was my father and the explosion of the oxygen tank in our lab.”

“You need to get help, Babe,” Henry reiterated. “You shouldn’t hafta face this alone.”

“You’re here,” I said.

“I’m not a professional, J.J.,” he replied. “I’m not a trained therapist or a counselor.”

“I’ve read the literature on the treatment of PTSD,” I replied. “A friend once suggested I talk to someone I trust about what I went through. That’s a hell of a lot to ask of anyone.”

“I’d be willing,” Henry replied.

“I know you would,” I responded, “but it would mean you’d have to live through those two traumatic events with me in graphic detail. You’d have to go through them with me as if you were there, too. I couldn’t live with myself if I lost you as a result.”

“You’ll never lose me, Babe,” Henry answered. “I couldn’t live with myself knowing you were going through it alone. It’s worth a try, don’t you think? If it doesn’t help, we can both talk to my counselor about treatment.”

“Let me think about it, okay?” I asked.

“Of course, Babe,” Henry replied. “Now, let’s try to get some sleep.

<> <> <>

Our new apartment was one of two on the fifteenth floor that shared a terrace separated by a planter with an evergreen-tree hedge to provide a degree of privacy between the two units. However, it didn’t amount to all that much, as it turned out. It was the next day when we had the opportunity to meet our next-door neighbors. I got up a bit early and couldn’t get back to sleep, so I decided to check out the weather firsthand. Walking out onto the terrace in nothing but a pair of bikini briefs, I did my usual first thing-in-the-morning stretch as I twisted my torso from side to side. That elicited an unexpected whistle from the other side of the hedge.

“Is someone there?” I called out.

“There’s no one here but the neighbors,” a young male voice called out. Then a face appeared between the evergreen trees, and he said, “As tempting as it may be to try nude sunbathing out here, this hedge doesn’t provide much privacy, and besides, anyone above us can see out onto our terraces.” Shit, I hadn’t thought of that. “I’m Max, by the way, and my lazy husband, Gideon, is still asleep.” Max appeared to be in his early thirties, but I couldn’t tell much about him with just his head sticking out from within the hedge.

“I’m J.J.,” I replied. “We just bought this place, but why don’t you come over, and I’ll try to figure out how to make us some coffee?”

“Just let me leave a note for Gideon, and I’ll be right there,” Max replied. A moment later and before I even had the chance to think about wearing more clothing, not that I wanted to wake Henry, there was a knock on the door. From somewhere, I heard Alesia announcing, ‘Max O’Brien is at the front door’. Not even seeing a peephole, I realized there must be a video doorbell, and I’d need to figure out how to reset it in order to get it to work with our phones.

Opening the door slowly, I saw the face from the terrace peering back at me. I opened the door the rest of the way to let him in.

“Oh my, you didn’t have to dress up for me,” he quipped. “I know I probably shouldn’t ask, but are your parents living here, too, or is it just you?”

“My dad hasn’t been in the picture since the day I turned fifteen and he discovered I was gay. Had I not left town, he’d have killed me. That was a bit over four years ago.” Leading him into the kitchen, I had him sit at the table while I started my search for coffee. “In the interim, I got my GED, finished my Ph.D. in computer science and designed Applazon’s next two generations of data servers, which is the reason we could afford this apartment. Along the way, I spent two years traveling the globe, installing data servers for Applazon during the height of the pandemic, and I met the love of my life, Henry, who’s asleep upstairs. Henry’s about to start work on his Ph.D. in math at NYU, and he’s not quite sixteen.” Hearing a gasp from the table, I added, “In case you were wondering, it’s legal in New York. Once I turn 21, Henry will be seventeen, which is the legal age of consent.”

“I wasn’t going to say anything,” Max replied. “Hell, I was twelve and Gideon fifteen when we got together, so that would really be a case of the pot calling the kettle black.”

“Fuck, how can anyone drink this stuff?” I exclaimed as I pulled an open can of Folgers out of the cupboard.

“Tea would be fine if you have it,” Max suggested.

“Maybe for you,” I replied. “Not that I don’t like tea, but I’ve been hooked on coffee since I was thirteen. Besides which, I don’t see any tea, either. Why don’t I order a full breakfast for all of us? Is there a place nearby that I could order from?”

With a loud sigh, he replied, “The Good Stuff Diner is gone. It was the best restaurant around here, but it didn’t survive. The same is true of the Rail Line Diner and the Theater Row Diner. They’re all gone, victims of the pandemic. The Hollywood Diner survived because it was small enough to survive on takeout, but it’s just a diner. It’s nothing special the way the Good Stuff was. That’s the bad news. The good news is that there’s a place right across Seventh Ave called, simply enough, Cafeteria, and the food’s excellent, and they deliver. The downside is that for what you’d have spent on a full breakfast at the Good Stuff, you’ll spend on tea and toast at Cafeteria.”

“Can you pull up the menu on your phone?” I asked.

“Here you go,” he replied as he handed me his phone.

Looking over the menu, I responded, “We spent the last couple of nights at the Four Seasons, so by comparison, this is dirt cheap. Not that I don’t appreciate good, cheap eats, but I suspect they’re becoming an endangered species, even in Lower Manhattan.”

“Sad but true,” Max agreed. “Even the Good Stuff Diner was getting to be pricey, reflecting New York’s fifteen-dollar minimum wage, but you could still get a full breakfast or a burger and fries for fifteen bucks or full dinner for $25. Their salmon burger deluxe was the best I ever tasted. Their turkey dinner with apple-walnut stuffing beat my mom’s Thanksgiving dinner, hands down. The pandemic took such a terrible toll on the New York lifestyle, but at least we’re still here to talk about it.”

“That we are,” I agreed. “My first boyfriend’s father didn’t make it. He wasn’t even forty, but he had an artificial heart valve, and the coronavirus attacked with a vengeance. Greg was just sixteen and had to drop out of school. They owned a bike shop, and it came down to a choice between his education and keeping his father’s dream alive. He chose the latter.”

Looking the brunch menu over, I noted, “Hey, they have Eggs Benedict with smoked salmon. Oh, or you can get avocado toast with salmon and poached egg. I could definitely go for that. Hey, that BEC sandwich sounds delicious. I wonder if you can substitute turkey bacon instead of pork.”

Laughing, Max responded, “Are you guys Jewish?”

“Not at all,” I responded. “Henry’s first boyfriend was Jewish, but Henry was raised Catholic, and he’s a devout atheist. I’m what I like to call a radical agnostic. Why?”

“Because you seem to like smoked salmon, and you’re avoiding pork bacon,” Max explained. “I love the term ‘devout atheist’, but you’ll have to explain the term ‘radical agnostic’ to me.”

“I’ll wait until Gideon’s here, so I only have to explain it once,” I replied. “Having traveled the world, I’ve grown fond of smoked salmon. Did you know that in France, smoked salmon is as common as smoked turkey and similarly priced? Regarding beef and pork, I’m working on giving up eating red meat. I got that from Greg since red meat is bad for the heart, but more than that, why eat our fellow mammals if we don’t have to?”

“I’d have a hard time giving up eating a juicy, rare prime rib, but I appreciate the sentiment,” Max agreed.

Just then I heard the sound of footsteps on the stairs followed by a naked Henry entering the kitchen, yawning and saying, “How long have you been up?”

“Wow, between the two of you, I’ve gotten quite a show,” Max commented, startling my boyfriend.

“Oops, I didn’t realize we had company,” Henry replied, but then he shocked the hell out of me by extending his hand and saying, “Sorry to flash you, but I didn’t know you were here. I’m Henry.” Damn, if it had been me, I’d have run back upstairs to grab something to wear.

“Max. And welcome to the neighborhood,” Max responded. “I really like your outfit. My husband has something similar, and I always like it when he wears it, too.”

“In that case, you should tell him to wear it over when he visits, so we can compare,” Henry replied with a smirk.

“The only problem is that there’s no private way of wearing it here,” Max responded. “A dozen video doorbells would film him if he walked through the hall, and if he tried to squeeze between the plants on the terrace, anyone above us could see, and I’d rather not have a visit from the police.”

“Max and Gideon are our next-door neighbors,” I explained. “We share the terrace, and as Max pointed out to me this morning when I was out there in my underwear and stretching as I often do, anyone with an apartment above us can see our terrace from out of their windows.”

“Drat, no nude sunbathing, I guess,” Henry responded. “I hadn’t thought of that.”

“Aren’t you gonna get dressed, Babe?” I asked.

“Why?” Henry replied. “It’s not like you’re dressed, either, you know, and Max has already seen all of me, so how would it change things If I got dressed?”

“He has a point there, J.J.,” Max responded, “and I’m sure not complaining. I haven’t seen so much eye candy in one room since Gideon and I were your age.”

At that point there was a knock on the door, and Alesia again announced from somewhere yet unidentified, “Gideon Reynolds is at the front door.” Max got up and headed to the door.

“Apparently, we have a smart doorbell,” I noted.

“We have more than that,” Henry noted. “I see Ring cameras all over the place in here. We need to get into the router and shut all that down and reprogram it. Otherwise, the former owners could be watching us right now.”

“Yikes,” I replied. “I don’t even know who’s their internet-service provider.”

“That much I do know,” Henry responded. “There’s a fiberoptic ONT and a Verizon router in the electrical closet upstairs. I’ll look into it today. I’m fine with Verizon, but we should use our own routers. Verizon collects data from their routers that I’d rather not share with them. I’ll check c|net for recommendations. Maybe you can get some info from the owner through our realtor. After all, she’s earning close to a million dollars from us.”

“Jeez, you’re right,” I replied. “I’d also check Consumer Reports for recommendations on both routers and service providers. Not that c|net doesn’t have excellent reviews, but they’re owned by CBS and have been accused of showing bias when it comes to products from their sponsors.”

“It’s always a good idea to get reviews from multiple sources,” Henry agreed.

“Hey, guys, this is Gideon, my husband,” Max announced as he walked into the kitchen with a thirty-something, African-American man.

“Hi, Gideon,” I replied, “I’m your new neighbor, J.J., and this is my boyfriend and the love of my life, Henry.”

“Hi, Gideon,” Henry responded.

“Honey, you didn’t tell me this was a clothing-optional meet-and-greet,” Gideon said as he faced his husband.

“Sorry about that, Gideon,” Henry responded. “I didn’t realize we had guests when I came down from our bedroom. Anyway, as my boyfriend can attest, I grew up with two brothers and three sisters with absolutely no privacy. Besides which, we were a military family, and I spent much of my childhood overseas, where nude sunbathing is common in public parks. I’ve never had anything resembling modesty.”

Laughing, I added, “I met Henry when his family gave me a roof over my head after I moved to Omaha. There are no locks on the bathroom doors because, as I’m told, Henry as a little boy thought it would be fun to lock his brother out of the bathroom when his brother had a bout of intestinal flu.”

“That’s actually true,” Henry agreed. “I’d say, poor Sammy, but guess who had to clean up the mess.”

“You two are so cute together,” Gideon responded. “Did I hear something about getting a new router?”

“The last owners apparently haven’t cancelled their Verizon FiOS broadband,” Henry explained. “We could certainly do worse, so we may see if we can take over the existing service.”

“You do have a choice,” Gideon responded. “In addition, we have RCN and Spectrum, and all three offer gigabit speeds. Verizon’s the only one with symmetrical upload speeds, which is useful for Zoom conferences and offsite backup. There are others, but they don’t come close to offering gigabit speeds. However, gigabit’s overkill for most people unless you’re a hardcore gamer—”

“Or a hardcore computer scientist running data-intensive computer simulations from the comfort of your bedroom,” I interrupted.

“Yeah, or that,” Max agreed with a laugh.

“You don’t have Comcast Xfinity?” Henry asked.

“I’m afraid not,” Gideon replied. “Not yet anyway. They’re on the next block, so I expect we’ll get it soon, and they offer two-gigabit service. You can also get two FiOS lines from Verizon for something less than double the price. With a router that supports dual WAN connections, as many of the best gaming routers do, you’ll actually end up with better real-world throughput than with a single two-gigabit line.”

“We might actually do that,” I interjected. “Not for the speed but for the increased security. We could use one line for a dedicated connection to the corporate servers and the second line for connection to the internet at large.”

“Oh, that’s a great idea,” Henry chimed in, “and when speed is an issue, we could still run packets over both connections simultaneously. That would be incredibly cool.”

“There are probably two Verizon extenders in here in addition to the primary router, but even then, their routers’ implementation of Wi-Fi 6E has been problematic and Wi-Fi 7’s at least another two years away,” Gideon said.

“The router in the closet isn’t a Wi-Fi 6 router,” Henry reported. “I doubt it’s even Wi-Fi 5.”

“Does it look like a dark-gray sail?” Gideon asked.

“No, it’s a black vertical box with a red front,” Henry replied.

“That thing’s ancient,” Gideon exclaimed. “You’ll definitely want to replace it, but you should decline the offer of a free router when you sign up. We’ll talk later about what I’d recommend, but just because you buy your own third-party router doesn’t mean your connection’s secure. Netgear has the fastest Wi-Fi 6E mesh routers on the planet, but they collect, track and sell your private browsing data.”

“Fuck, is that legal?” I asked.

“You can still use the router, but the advanced features won’t work unless you sign up for their so-called and misnamed data-protection services. Adding insult to injury, they charge you a monthly fee after the first thirty days and then bury the fact that they track your surfing habits in the fine print,” Gideon explained.

“Fuck that,” Henry chimed in.

“Asus isn’t much better,” Gideon continued. “The only difference is that they don’t charge you a monthly fee. Right now, I like the Linksys Atlas Max 6E router, but it costs $1200 for a three-node Mesh system, and new models are coming out all the time. I’ll help you when you’re ready to get started. Regardless, however, you need to batten down your internet with a VPN.”

“We already do,” I said. “Now getting back to breakfast, I offered to make coffee, but the only coffee in the apartment is an open can of Folgers.”

“Yuck!” Henry responded.

“What’s wrong with Folgers?” Gideon replied, earning a shove from his husband, causing Gideon to laugh.

“According to Max, there’s a decent place for brunch across Seventh Avenue from here called, originally enough, Cafeteria, and here’s the menu.”

“That’s the dine-in menu,” Gideon pointed out. “The delivery menu’s a bit different.” Getting out his own phone, Gideon pulled up the delivery menu and showed it to us. “Just select what you want, and I’ll pay for it and send it off for delivery.”

“No, we’ll pay for it,” I said. “We’re the ones who invited you.”

“This time it’s on us,” Max countered. “Once you’re settled in, you can cook us dinner.”

“That’s pretty brave on your part,” I responded, “but we’d be happy to. Henry’s actually a decent cook, and I’m learning.”

“Fair enough,” Max agreed. “Order whatever you want, and we’ll add what we want and send it off.”

Taking a look at the menu, I said, “Lemon ricotta pancakes. How did I miss that? I’ll have the lemon ricotta pancakes with two eggs over easy, a side of turkey bacon and a double espresso.” After making my selections, I handed the phone to Henry.

Looking over the menu, he surprised me by ordering more of a lunch, but boy, did it sound good, “I’ll have the mac and cheese with truffle oil, turkey bacon, sautéed spinach and a mochaccino.”

Taking the phone from Henry, Max announced his selections. “Crunchy croissant French toast, a grits bowl and SerendipiTea for me.”

Finally, Gideon took his phone back and added, “mac-and-cheese spring rolls, sautéed wild mushrooms, broccolini and a ginger-spiced latte. And if it’s agreeable to everyone, I’d like to add orders of sweet-potato fries and truffle-parmesan fries and two orders of deep-fried Oreos.”

“Oh, that sounds good,” I agreed, and Henry nodded his head.

After tapping to pay, Gideon added, “Okay, the delivery estimate is forty minutes.”