Autumn - 12. Lucky Town

Over the years they had been together, César and Brett had financially supported the Human Rights Campaign, the nation’s largest gay, lesbian, bisexual, and transgender civil rights organization. The men’s substantial contributions placed them at a recognition level which garnered them invitations to political and social events throughout the year. It also gave them access to highly sought-after tickets for the Annual National Dinner. This year, their son and his date would be at the black-tie event with them, sitting at their table.

“Dude, you look awesome!” said Brett, watching CJ walk down the stairs wearing his brand new tuxedo. The suit fit the boy’s athletic body perfectly. The bright white formal shirt was a modern design, with a series of squares―two inches to a side―made of narrow diagonal pleats alternating directions in each quadrangle. He had taken great care shaving and added product to his hair. It wasn’t the unruly mess everyone was accustomed to seeing. Brett could detect a subtle hint of aftershave or cologne; he recognized his own Tom Ford Grey Vetiver and smiled.

“He’s right, CJ. You look fantastic,” agreed César. “I’m glad you talked me out of buying you the tux at Brooks Brothers earlier in the summer, Armani suits you. Who’s the designer of the shirt? It’s fabulous.”

“Thanks. But fabulous? You may want to butch it up a bit, Dad.” There was mischief all over the boy’s face. “Anyway, shirt’s by Donna Karan. I still feel kinda weird spending all this money on one outfit. At least I didn’t have to buy studs and cufflinks, I can’t believe you guys have so many sets.” The boy looked down at his chest, gazing at the perfect vertical column of light blue stones set in white gold running down the shirt’s placket.

”Unless you have another large growth spurt, the suit should last a few years. You said Yousef told you there’s plenty of material to lengthen the pants and the coat sleeves if necessary.” César was smiling when he approached his son to tighten and even out his bowtie. “I’m impressed you were able to tie this without help.” The handsome boy’s cheeks became rosy, the fussing by his dads getting to him and making him blush.

“I practiced a bunch of times before putting the shirt on. I just followed the instructions on the handout they gave me at Neiman’s.” CJ turned towards the large gilded mirror by the entry, pulled down his shirt sleeves slightly, and smiled at his fathers’ reflection on the glass.

“I like the cufflinks you picked to wear.” Brett put his arm around CJ’s shoulders and steered him towards the door, while César turned off most of the lights on the first floor. “I gave that set to your dad as a Christmas present. The sapphires match his eyes. They do yours too.”

“Let’s go, guys. We still have to pick up José-María before we head down to the convention center.” With his husband and son waiting, César activated the alarm system, pushed them out the door, and locked it.

In an announcement released in September, HRC announced Jennifer López would receive the 2013 Ally for Equality Award at their sold-out National Dinner on Saturday, October fifth in Washington, D.C.

“Jennifer López embodies the spirit of an ally to the LGBT community and we are thrilled to present her the Ally for Equality at our National Dinner in October,” said HRC president Chad Griffin. “We recognize Jennifer for her talent, style, compassion, philanthropy and generosity, but foremost for her public commitment to LGBT equality.”

The Ally for Equality Award recognizes the outstanding efforts of those who dedicate time, energy, spirit and whole-hearted commitment to better the lives of LGBT people. This award is given to allies outside the LGBT community who stand up on behalf of equality for all Americans.

For years, Jennifer López has been vocal about her love for the LGBT community, from her outspoken support for marriage equality, to the millions of dollars she’s raised for HIV/AIDS research and her efforts on behalf of bullying and youth anti-violence causes.

“Even facing pressure from anti-LGBT groups, Jennifer stands her ground as a strident equality supporter,” added Griffin. “Throughout her career, Jennifer Lopez has always stood for fairness, justice and equality, and that’s what being an ally is all about.”

The HRC National Dinner, which is expected to draw thirty-four hundred guests, will be held the evening of Saturday, October 5 at the Washington Convention Center. Also in attendance will be the plaintiffs and attorneys from the historic Proposition 8 and Defense of Marriage Act (DOMA) cases before the U.S. Supreme Court earlier this year. This will be the first time all five plaintiffs will be together in the same room.

When his dads told CJ about the banquet, they reminded him of the need to buy or rent a tuxedo. They suggested he ask one of his new friends to go with him, at which point CJ panicked. Inviting someone to go with him was the scary part. There wasn’t anyone he knew he was interested in dating. Worse, he’d never asked anyone out on a date before. He was definitely not asking a girl, although he did think of Autumn as a possibility. She had a boyfriend, so we would be going together as just friends. He supposed she would know how to behave at an event like the National Dinner because of her family’s political activities. Harley would have been a good choice, but his bud had a wedding to go to the same night. It was Papa Brett who suggested he try and find out if any of the guys in the GSA owned a tux. When he casually brought up the subject during lunch the following day, José-Marίa was the only one who admitted having one. CJ reasoned, and his dads concurred, the son of a diplomat would be accustomed to formal events. He wouldn’t feel out of place rubbing elbows with the rich and famous.

“¿Donde están mis latinos? ¿Donde está mi gente?” JLO’s first words from the podium―asking where her Latinos were at―were punctuated by an ear-splitting whistle that reverberated through the cavernous room. An embarrassed CJ slunk down in his chair, chagrined by his spontaneous reaction to the star’s comments in Spanish. The laughter which followed his faux pas didn’t stop, until the honoree once again approached the microphone.

“Well, at least I know who was paying attention and understands Spanish. What’s your name, handsome?” The response was relayed along the tables until it reached the front dais. “CJ?” The boy nodded his head in response. “Well, CJ, before this shindig is over, you and I are dancing together. You hear me?” The boy once again nodded his head in agreement, as the crowd rewarded his antics with applause. Ben Cohen and Hudson Taylor, at a table on the other side of the room with their wives, stood up and cheered their young friend the loudest.

True to her word, the artist made her way to the Abelló-Davenport table when the ceremonies were over. All ten men rose as one when she approached. She asked CJ to introduce his companions, and after meeting everyone, she put her arm through the boy’s and guided him to the dance floor. When she found out CJ was from Miami, their conversation veered towards places in South Beach and Little Havana. After they’d returned to the table, she asked CJ for his phone, entered her e-mail and phone number, then asked him to send her a message so they could remain in touch.

After his dance with the guest of honor, CJ and José-María went to say hello to Ben, Hudson, and their wives. Afterward, he enjoyed dancing with his date, but when he felt a hand cup his ass, he stepped back a bit, smiled, and shook his head. José-María returned the smile and did not try anything of the sort again.

“Mr. Abelló, Captain Davenport, it was a pleasure spending time with you this evening.” José-María had stepped out of the Escalade outside his building and was leaning inside the car through the open rear door. “I can’t thank you enough for letting CJ invite me. I had a great time. I hope I get to see both of you again soon.” As both men acknowledged the young Venezuelan guy, CJ stepped outside the car, joining his friend on the sidewalk.

“I’ll be right back.” CJ closed the door and walked with José-Marίa to the front of the West End luxury high-rise.

“Thanks for inviting me, CJ. I had a lot of fun tonight. See ya Monday?” They’d stopped to the side of the glass doors, out of the view of the security guard at the desk in the lobby.

“Yeah. Thanks for coming with me. It was fun, even if I did embarrass myself with the stupid whistling!”

“All good, all good. We got to meet her because of you.” José-María leaned into the younger guy, put his hand behind his head, and kissed him. As they pulled away from each other, CJ smiled again and turned to walk to his father’s car. He looked back before getting in and waved.

“Let’s go, dads, I’m tired,” said the boy as he slipped into the back seat.

“Hmmm, I’m surprised he didn’t get to come home with us and spend the night!” Brett’s comment earned him a slap to his thigh from César.

“Don’t start with me, Papa. We’re friends. That’s all there is to it.”

CJ left school after lunchtime on Friday, carrying his backpack and a small overnight bag he brought with him in the morning. He walked to the Foggy Bottom Metro station, located next to the main entrance to George Washington University Hospital, and caught a Blue Line train to Ronald Reagan Washington National Airport. His flight, scheduled to depart at quarter to three, would get him into O’Hare around four o’clock―two hours flying, one-hour time difference―barring any delays.

The flight delay was short. Just after the original estimated time of arrival, CJ was walking past the security checkpoint. His cousins had told him they would pick him up curbside, at the baggage level. He kept looking at the overhead signs, trying to figure out where he was supposed to be going, when he was wrapped up in two sets of arms. His surprise was quickly followed by laughter; the two, tall men accosting him were his cousins, Randy and Rod.

“You, fuckers! You scared the shit out of me,” said CJ as he was warmly hugged by each of the men in turn.

“Ohhh, cousin CJ has a potty mouth, we may have to wash it out with soap,” replied Randy. Although identical, the twins could be told apart fairly easily once you knew them. Hairstyles and clothing might have been somewhat similar, but personalities were very different―Randy was the jokester of the two.

“Fuck you, Randy. You may be older and bigger, but I bet I can beat your ass if I have to.” The Abelló twins were almost six years older than CJ and both towered over him. They were even taller than their cousin’s two dads.

“Damn, cuz, you need to post more current pics on Facebook! You’re not the little boy we thought you were.” Rod took hold of the bag CJ dropped on the floor when they jumped him, put his arm around the boy’s shoulders, and steered him towards the exit doors.

“It’s great to be with you, guys.” CJ was honestly happy to see his cousins. Although they were older, and their interactions had been limited in the past, both of them had made a point of reaching out to him after the debacle in Miami and subsequent move to Washington. “I missed you in Miami last November.”

“Too much school work, bud. Neither one of us could take the time off. Is the carry-on all the luggage you have?” Rod hitched the bag a bit higher on his shoulder when CJ nodded. “Randy, you think you can remember where you parked the truck?”

Doc looked around sheepishly as he apologetically shrugged his shoulders after his outburst of laughter. His train was minutes away from arriving at Penn Station in New York and he’d just received a text message from Sean:

meet @ mens room 34 st side… last stall

Leave it to the furry ginger stud to make anything sound sexual. His desire to have a face-to-face meeting with Sean was one reason for this trip. Although it had become clear―through e-mails and phone calls―there would be no romantic relationship between them, they both had expressed a desire to remain friends.

Doc had invited Sean to join him for drinks and dinner Friday night, suggesting the New Yorker might like to spend the night at the Upper East Side apartment. The message on his phone had him smiling, and somewhat horned-up, as he stepped off the train. He rode the escalator to the ground level and oriented himself. Before taking a step, his friend was standing next to him.

“Hey, handsome, wanna go cruise the men’s room?” asked the good-looking man as he hugged Doc. “I’m glad you’re here, Doc. How’s my favorite physician doing?”

“Well, that’s a nice welcome. You’re looking great as usual, Sean. Damn you’re a sexy fucker.” The redhead wore black boots, blue jeans, a lightweight thermal knit shirt with an A & F hoodie, and a navy blue Yankees ball cap. “Did you bring underwear and socks so you could spend the night?”

“Underwear? What’s that? But yes, I brought a couple of things so I can stay over.” Sean jiggled the backpack slung over his shoulder.

“If those are sex toys, there better be a sexy jockstrap in there also.”

“You’d probably steal it from me, old man. By the way, I haven’t told you how flattered I was you came up to see me Labor Day Weekend. I was sorry you had to cut your trip short but real happy to hear Detective Kennedy’s injuries weren’t more serious. I liked the man when I met him over the summer.”

“Our whole group had a rough few days that weekend, I’ll tell you all about it later. But, why is it you were flattered I came up then?” They were standing outside the station by now, trying to flag down a cab―no easy feat at this time of day.

“I was flattered you thought enough of me, to come all the way up to dump me!” The look of shock on Doc’s face was met with roaring laughter.

“How…?”

“Easy, Matt, we’ve already talked about it. I was the perfect rebound after your breakup. Much younger, well built, extremely good looking, hung like a stallion, and let’s not forget modest.” Sean was able to grab hold of the door handle of a taxi a fraction of a second before a heavyset woman, wearing too much perfume could. She gave him a nasty look while he ignored her existence. Typical exchange between city residents. “Plus, I’m wild enough you did things sexually you might never do again. And I’m not being vain. In my line of business, I have to be aware of what I’m selling.”

“Bubba, you’re a conceited dick, but I still like you anyway. If you ever figure out what you want to do with your life, you’ll be a complete success. The insight you have into others is a rare gift. And you’re right, I do think of you highly, that’s why I asked to spend some time with you this weekend. Not being able to have the conversations we’ve had in person bothered me.”

“So, Doc, wanna tell me about this lunch you have planned tomorrow with two teenagers?” The cab had made a couple of turns and was headed north on Park Avenue.

“Hell, I’m not sure what it’s all about. Let’s get up to my place. I want to shower and change. Then we can go have that meal at J.G. Melon’s which got interrupted back in August.”

“Perfect, we can talk about your kids over dinner. Then we’re going out drinking. There’s a couple of great sports bars around the corner from the restaurant.”

“I’ve got a bone to pick with you, you little fucker.” Randy drove with CJ sitting between him and his brother. The boy had made to get in the back but the twins insisted he sit up-front with them.

“What did I do?” CJ didn’t consider himself small, but sandwiched between his two much larger cousins, he felt puny. They weren’t big muscular guys, they were in okay shape, but the height and the hair peeking over the neckline of their shirts made him think of being trapped between two bears.

“You barely post on Facebook,” added Rod without missing a beat. “You reply to e-mails once in a while, and you haven’t called at all since you moved to D.C.”

“Yeah! If it wasn’t for what Dad told us after he returned from the wedding”—the conversation had swung back to Randy, making CJ think the alternating was a natural twin thing—“or Uncle César’s updates, we wouldn’t know shit about what’s been going on with you.”

“Come on, guys. Nothing much’s been going on. I spent the summer getting settled in, the dads and their friends kept me busy. Now school takes up a lot of time. Walls isn’t a place you can just cruise through.”

“Right, nothing much going on,” mocked Rod.

“You’ve been hobnobbing with all sorts of famous people, beating the crap out of half the town with your Kung Fu shit.” Randy took his eyes off the road for a moment and looked at CJ while wiggling his eyebrows. “And then last weekend you had a date with some sexy older guy, who was left sitting with your dads, while you went off dancing with Jennifer López.”

“Dad has a big mouth. I’m killing him when I get back home!”

Dragon and King took Friday off from work and flew to Montreal for the Black and Blue Festival. Founded in 1991, the event was organized by Bad Boy Club Montreal and consisted of five days of festivities over the Canadian Thanksgiving in October. A popular stop on the gay circuit party calendar, it attracted participants from all over the world. Although geared primarily towards gay men, people of all sexual orientations came together to celebrate diversity. Like many other similar celebrations throughout the world, the event was initially created as a way of raising funds to combat HIV/AIDS.

“You ready to party this weekend, Baby Boy?” Dragon had just stepped out of the shower and was shaving in front of the mirror in the bathroom of their hotel room.

“Bloody right I am, Big Daddy!” King was pulling on extremely tight black jeans at that moment. The pants contoured perfectly to the man’s bubble butt.

The popularity of circuit parties peaked in the 1990s. The raves came under attack from large segments of the GLBT community, for promoting drug use and uninhibited sex, two of the leading causes in the transmission of HIV/AIDS. An ironic turn of events, considering the effort to battle that scourge was the impetus behind the origin of the events.

King started peeling off his Levi’s as Dragon watched from the bathroom door. “I’m gonna wear sweatpants instead of jeans, they don’t fit well over the jock, and they’re coming off as soon as we get into the place anyway.” The Military & Leather Ball was being held that evening at one of the city’s top clubs. The coat check would be handling more than just jackets. King wouldn’t be the lone man spending the night dancing in black leather boots, a black leather jockstrap, and a black leather and stainless harness connected to his cock ring with a front leather strap.

“Go ahead and stick your ID, room key, and money in your boots now. You might forget them in your sweats once Molly hits you.” Dragon had slipped on his bulldog harness to complement the leather pants and boots which were his attire for the evening.

“You know what? I wish the main party on Sunday was at Olympic Stadium as in past years. Those stories we’ve heard, and pictures we’ve seen, looked abso-fucking-lutely hot!”

“It’ll still be great. Dancing from midnight to noon is not something we do back home. The flight back on Monday is going to be murder. At least we took Tuesday off work to recover.”

“Molly’s going to be with us all three nights, correct?” asked King as he took the pill Dragon held out to him and swallowed it without the need for water.

“Yup, she’s along for the entire trip.”

“Hi, Auntie Lynn.” Pushed from behind by one of his cousins, CJ almost stumbled into his aunt. She’d come to the entryway to the house to meet her nephew when one of her sons called for her. “Thanks for inviting me to come visit.”

“It’s so good to have you here, CJ. Although I can’t honestly take credit for the invitation though. Those two apes who call me Mom were the instigators. They’ve been wanting you to come visit since finding out your step-father wasn’t entirely enlightened about you liking boys.”

“Scumbag!” said one twin.

“Douchebag,“ added the other.

“I can’t believe I gave birth to the two of you. Stop acting like idiots! Anyway, you’re looking great, CJ. Rico told us about spending time with you during your father’s wedding, he couldn’t say enough nice things.” Lynn held her nephew at arms’ length, looking at him while nodding her head in approval. “Your uncle will be out in a few minutes, he’s finishing up his shower. He told us you’d adjusted well to the move?”

“What Rich did was about the greatest thing he could have done for me. It turned out for the best. I wouldn’t trade my new life in D.C. with Dad and Papa for anything. And I’ve made some great friends at school already. Things keep getting better.”

“Let’s get you settled in and then we’ll go out for pizza. A nice deep dish has to be your first meal in Chicago. I want to hear all about Washington.” They walked into the kitchen and Lynn indicated a door. “You’re sleeping with the boys in their basement pigsty tonight.”

“CJ!” The shout made the boy turn around in time to see his uncle rush towards him and wrap him up in a bearish hug.

“Hey, Uncle Rico. Long time, no see.”

“What, less than three months? Good to see you too, smart ass. Have the boys told you what they have planned for you? Tomorrow, you get to go sightseeing, and tomorrow night Randy wants to take you out in Boystown―you’ll get to spend the night at his place.”

“Let him breathe, Rico, you’re as bad as the boys,” said Lynn as she pulled her husband to her side. “We can talk about the plans for the weekend when we go eat. My one requirement is everybody has to be back here at the house for Sunday dinner.”

Fear was an old acquaintance of Detective Thomas John Fitzgerald Kennedy. It was with him when he came under fire while serving in Somalia with the US Army. It was with him whenever he drew his gun, during his years as a police officer in Boston and Washington. It was with him when he admitted his homosexuality, first to himself, then to his family. More recently, it was by his side once again, when a bullet pierced his body at the end of summer. As he nervously paced in front of the airport’s security barricade, fear was etched on his face.

This time it was completely different; the fear was not alone. Trepidation and elation had twisted together as tightly as a strand of DNA inside him. He had no clue how to deal with it. For the first time in over a decade, his sons would be with him. Bradley was a toddler, and Patrick an infant, when he left them behind and moved to the nation’s capital.

The pain the separation caused never diminished. Believing it was best for the boys, he stayed away. He paid child support religiously and in turn, once a year, his ex-wife sent him pictures of the kids. The two fresh-faced boys looked like him, although their facial features were somewhat softened by their maternal genes. The older one was a flaming carrot top; the younger one had inherited their mother’s chestnut hair color.

“Mate, look up,” said JP, gently nudging his husband. Lost in his introspection, Tom had failed to notice the two boys approaching him.

“Dad?” The question came from the younger-looking teen who had stopped in front of him. The cop couldn’t utter a word. Tears silently streaming down his wizened face spoke volumes though. Sobs escaped his throat as he threw his arms around his sons, gathering them to him, and burying his head in their hair. The dam burst and there was no holding back the crying.

Tom Kennedy’s smile looked somewhat out of place on his tear-streaked face. His sons extricated themselves from his embrace, and all three glanced around at their surroundings. Tom noticed JP stood a few steps away, watching the scene unfolding in front of him, with a small grin on his face.

“Uhmm, people are kinda staring, you know?” It was the younger of the two boys who spoke once again.

“Shut up, Paddy, let them stare. Stop trying to act like such a macho jock.” The blue eyes on the freckled face of Tom’s oldest son shone with mirth as he admonished his younger brother. “Hi, Dad.”

“I’m sorry, Paddy. I’ll try not to embarrass you too much, son. But you boys have no idea how much I’ve hoped for this day. It feels as if I am finally a complete person again. Oh, wait. You guys know I’m married to another man right?” In his excitement, the cop couldn’t remember what information he’d already shared with his kids.

“Yeah, Dad, we do. And I recognize JP from the wedding pictures our new cousin sent us.” The smiling blue eyes were turned towards the man standing a few steps behind the cop. “Hi, Pops,” said Bradley. “I hear you have some cool ink on your arm and back, can’t wait to see it.”

Tom looked between his sons and his husband and shook his head while chuckling. “CJ strikes again, eh?” He felt relief at the light-hearted way his son greeted JP; he had worried about their reaction.

“I think so, mate. It’s bloody good to meet you both, I’m glad you’re down here.” JP shook hands with Paddy, but before he could do the same with the other boy, he was hugged by the older kid.

“Yep, we’ve heard a heck of a lot about you, and the rest of the ‘Eight’. CJ and I have been trading messages a lot since we spoke while Dad was in the hospital.” Bradley spoke as he stared in awe at JP. “CJ’s so cool, I can’t wait to meet him! Too bad he’s out of town this weekend.”

“Oooh, you didn’t tell me he had such a neat accent, Brad!” exclaimed Paddy, not stopping the stare he was giving JP. “Did you know about it?”

“Yeah, CJ mentioned it. Didn’t I tell you? Guess I forgot.”

Tom had so much to ask, a dozen years of catching up. During the ride to Alexandria, he mostly answered questions. Bradley recounted the confrontation with his grandfather when he found out the boys had called their father in Washington. He spoke of how CJ standing up to the older man, had not only broken through the hold he held over their mother for so many years, but had also emboldened the two kids to defy their grandfather themselves.

When the elder Kennedy forbid his grandchildren from calling his son again, it was Paddy who told the man to go stuff himself; they were no longer afraid of him.

“That was epic! I ate enough calories in one meal to fatten up a pig for slaughter.” CJ kicked off his sneakers, peeled off his black WALLS hoodie, and plopped his butt down on the sofa that would open up into his bed for the night. He and his two cousins were in the small sitting area that, along with two bedrooms and a bathroom, took up much of their parents’ basement. He wore one of his dad’s sleeveless Harley-Davidson t-shirts―a gray one proclaiming RIDE WITH PRIDE. He rubbed his arms to rid himself of the slight chill he felt. “I’m definitely running a few miles tomorrow.”

“Great idea, we’ll go run together on Lakeshore Drive,” said Randy from his seat on the recliner across the way. “Uhmm, cuz, did you bring any warm clothes? It’s gonna be real chilly by Sunday morning.”

“Not really, I didn’t need a lot in Miami. Whatever I had is too small now, and I haven’t gone shopping for a coat yet.” CJ looked at the quilted vests both his cousins had worn that evening over long-sleeved t-shirts. “I wouldn’t mind getting something like what you guys wore tonight.”

“We can go shower at the apartment after our run and I’ll take you shopping,” said Rod, handing his brother a beer from the small refrigerator in the cabinet underneath the big-screen television set. He offered CJ one but the boy declined, shaking his head. Since the restaurant was a small family-owned place, and his aunt and uncle knew the owner, he’d been able to have a glass of wine with dinner. He wanted to respect his fsthers’ practice of allowing him just one drink with a meal.

“Hey, that reminds me, what did your mom mean about your place in Boystown, Randy? You moved out?”

“Rod, roll one for us, it’s story time! You smoke, cuz?”

“Not really. I’ve done it before, but I’ll pass tonight.”

“Cool, just save it for tomorrow night. You can toke up before going out since you won’t be able to drink at all,” said Rod, sitting back down. “Go ahead, Randy. I wanna hear how you explain this one to the kid.”

“Fuck you, bro. Anyway, CJ, I split my time between here and an apartment I co-own in Boystown with my boyfriend Tyler. You’ll meet him tomorrow when we go there to shower.”

“Your boyfriend? Wow! Dad told me he and I weren’t the only two gay guys in the family, but he refused to say who else. Told me he wouldn’t out anyone and I would find out in time.”

“And there you have it!” chuckled Rodney. “I’m the only straight boy in the room right now.”

“We can’t all be perfect, bro,” replied Randy. “Anyway, cuz, I guess I’m really bi, leaning more towards gay. But you may as well know I also have a girlfriend.”

“What?!”

“He, he, he. Welcome to the big leagues. Tyler and I live with a girl. Her name’s Natasha, she’s Russian, and you’ll also meet her tomorrow. What about you? Any boys you’re fucking around with?”

“Nope. Single and I want to keep it that way for now. Hell, I haven’t even had real sex. Most I’ve ever done is trade blow jobs.”

“Fuck! Really?” Rod took a sip from his beer before looking at his brother. “Maybe you should invite a couple of your friends to hang out tomorrow, Randy. We might turn Chicago into CJ’s lucky town.”