Autumn - 18. Working on a Dream

The intoxicating aroma of brewing coffee accomplished what the bright morning sunlight streaming through the windows was unable to; it made the boys stir from their slumber. They had stayed up fairly late the night before trading stories of home, family, school, and friends. Rubbing sleep out of their eyes, lazily stretching their limbs, the kids took turns relieving their bladders. Eventually, they joined the adults out on the balcony. Patrick had passed on the coffee and grabbed a Coke, CJ had wrapped himself in a blanket complaining of the cold, while Bradley and Chipper delighted in making comments on how they couldn’t wait to see him when snow and ice arrived.

“I hope you both freeze your nuts off when that type of crap gets here.” CJ was not fully awake yet, but he was ready for the weather jokes which had begun the previous evening. “Just think, over Thanksgiving, I’ll be swimming in Miami Beach. And come Christmas, I’ll be hanging ten in Australia. I’ll welcome in the New Year wearing a bathing suit, while you both will have your dicks shrink to nothing in the cold.”

“Hanging ten my ass.” Bradley gave his friend a little shove. “In your dreams, you got ten. If you did you’d be working with your friend Sean!”

“Brad…” Tom looked at his son while pulling Patrick closer to him. The kid was sitting next to his dad once again.

“Sorry, Dad.” The redheaded teen and CJ had promised they would curtail the sexual jokes and innuendos. It was most likely a temporary thing, the father had said. Until the younger boy became more comfortable hanging around with the older crowd.

“Dads, we borrowed some of your booze last night.” CJ’s sheepish expression brought thinly disguised grins to Brett and César’s faces.

“Mate, how the hell do you borrow booze? Are you planning on returning it?”

The laughter made a couple of the guys spill some of their coffee. CJ had to put his mug down, so he could re-wrap himself in the thick woolen throw he’d carried outside. “I probably peed what I drank already. It may be a problem returning it.”

“What made you decide to start hitting the bottle? And how much did you drink? asked Brett calmly but firmly. He seemed to miss the glance his husband gave him; CJ didn’t. ”I hope it was just one and it wasn’t the good stuff.”

“It was Jim Beam. We did a shot each right at midnight to celebrate Chipper’s sixteenth birthday. I would have done another one, it warmed me up. But the birthday boy started coughing. What a lightweight.”

“Hey! Don’t pick on me. You’re not allowed to, it’s my birthday. And anyway, Mom works for a wine company, that’s what I’m allowed to drink at home. And not all the time. I guess I don’t have as much practice as you and the drunken Irishman.”

“Irishmen don’t get drunk. We get happy.” Bradley chuckled and his dad used the back of his hand to hide his laughter.

“I can live with that,” said César. “A drink on such a momentous occasion’s fine with me. It’s not like you finished the bottle. And that’s Doc’s anyway. He’s the bourbon drinker. Changing the subject, what do you guys want for breakfast?”

“We’re cooking for Chipper.” Patrick looked around the crowd while the adults seemed surprised. “Okay. CJ said he could cook. Bradley and I will help. But we need to get dressed and go buy some stuff first.”

“Yeah, he can cook. Does it all the time back home. What are we having? And what do we need to buy?” asked Brett. “I’ll go shopping.”

“Nah, Papa. We got this. Patrick and Chipper are going to get bagels down the street. Bradley and I will go to the market for a few things. Can we take a bag of bagels back home? I liked the ones Doc gave us.”

“Sure, bud. I’ll give them money. But you still didn’t tell me what we’re having.”

“Oh. When I opened the liquor cabinet last night I saw a bottle of sherry. That gave me an idea. I’m gonna prepare eggs, poached in sherry and cream, with fresh thyme if they have it. We’ll serve them on wilted spinach. With crispy prosciutto and fresh fruit. It pays off to watch the cooking shows, eh?”

“Fuuck! Sounds bloody good.”

 

Chipper wasn’t certain when, but he and his mother would be traveling to Washington for two or three days soon. They planned on staying at a hotel for a couple of nights. It would be a chance for them to visit Doc’s home, and maybe Walls. He and CJ would coordinate that part of the plan.

The boy was placed in a cab headed home to the West Side, carrying a bag of perishables the men had no use for, but didn’t want to go to toss into the garbage. He promised to deliver it to a church near his building. It would help feed someone down on their luck.

The rest of the group headed to Penn Station within minutes of him leaving. It was time to return home. The train for Boston left some thirty minutes before the one to Washington; Tom walked his kids to the platform it would depart from. When he rejoined JP and the others, his eyes were red and wet. JP placed his arm around the cop, pulling him close, as they all boarded. CJ, sunglasses on and sweatshirt hood over his head, curled up against the side of the car and was asleep in minutes. The four adults left him on his own, sitting several rows away.

“Damn! That was almost as bad as last time.” Tom smiled while wiping his eyes. “At least this time it’ll be just a couple of weeks before we see each other again.”

“I used to hate it each time I had to say goodbye to CJ,” said César. “I think each instance will be a bit less traumatic for you.”

“I hope so! Can’t deal with all this emotional crap all the time. I’ve cried more in the past few months than I have in years.”

“Most of those tears have been happy ones, mate.”

“Yeah. Now all I have to do is get used to the short visits. Oh, and figure out what the hell’s going on with Paddy!”

“I don’t think there’s much to figure out, Tom.” Brett leaned forward, looking at his friend sitting across from him. “The kid’s slightly uncomfortable discussing sex and gay issues. Not a big surprise considering his age, and what type of environment he was brought up in. I mean, your father doesn’t sound like the poster child for acceptance.”

“But Bradley’s not like that! And he grew up under the same conditions.”

“I figure the two-year age difference is really big,” offered César. “It won’t mean much as they get older. But right now…”

“Mate, I don’t think it’s a big deal. The boy barely left your side when we were all together.”

“JP’s right. He may have some problems dealing with our usual bullshit banter. But there aren’t any signs of rejecting you.” Brett reassuringly shook his friend’s knee.

Tom smiled, looking at his friends. “Chipper took an interest in him. Paddy told me they talked a lot, while CJ and Bradley had their own thing going on.”

“Chipper’s a bloody good kid. There’s someone who’ll be a pleasure to have around.”

“Brett and I discussed him last night after we went to bed. We agreed he and CJ are going to be good for each other.”

“Ha! Throw Harley and Thiago into the mix, and those four are going to turn their damn school upside down.” Brett was shaking his head as he once again leaned back and stretched his legs out. “Did you hear them planning to start up the Love is Louder program at Walls once he moves down?”

“Yep. Martha Edward’s going to be all over it. CJ said he’d talk to her this week. I think I’ll give her a call and let her know what we thought of Chipper. Won’t hurt his chances to get in,” added César. “I think he’ll also be good for Doc. Even if he’ll be a constant reminder of Chip. That might be the toughest part.”

“Actually, mate, the toughest part will be once Doc starts dating again. What’s he gonna do with a fifteen-year-old at home? And what if Matt wants to bring someone back to his place and get laid?”

“That’s easy. César and I will take him any time Doc wants time off.”

“Plus the kid’s realistic.” César leaned back and closed his eyes, ready to take a nap himself. “CJ told me they discussed Sean, and the possibility of Doc having overnight guests. Chipper replied that Doc better be getting laid ‘cause he was hoping he would be doing the same sooner or later.”

 

“A Perfecto, bruh? A real, honest-to-goodness Perfecto? I am sooo jealous.” With the temperature in the low seventies, Harley, Thiago and CJ had bought subs at the deli across from the school, walked next door to the small urban park, and sat on the grass to enjoy their food and the weather.

“Gee, Harley, it’s a great jacket. But it’s still only a jacket!” chuckled CJ.

“Bite your tongue, heathen! I’d kill for one.”

“Wanna see a picture of me trying it on?”

“You know something? I’m starting to hate you.”

“Nah, you love me. And you, Thiago? You love me too? You’re being awfully quiet.”

“My weekend wasn’t as much fun, homes. I took this girl out on Saturday night, thought I was gonna get lucky, but got shot down. Bitch led me on, got me all heated up, and then nothing.”

“Ouch! If it helps any, I didn’t get laid either. I spent the weekend sleeping with a bunch of other guys―”

“Considering the team you play for, that sounds like you got very lucky,” Thiago snickered.

“No, you ass! My dads, Uncles JP and Tom, and his two sons. They came down from Boston to spend the weekend with us.”

“What are they like? As nice as their dads? Are they our age? Are we gonna get to meet them sometime?”

‘Geez, Harley. Give CJ a chance to answer.”

“Ooops, sorry. I had a boring two days with the family, hearing about your trip got me all excited. I thought you were gonna be busy with that girl most of the weekend. You should have called me. We could have hung out.” Harley paused to take a large bite from his sandwich, and with a full mouth looked at CJ again. “So what are the guys from Boston like?”

“Bradley’s our age. He turned sixteen last month. He’s cool. Plays lacrosse for his school. Patrick’s a little quiet. The kid’s two years younger than us, and he might have issues with the gay thing.”

“Uh, oh.” Thiago shook his head and frowned. “Doesn’t sound good considering his dad’s gay.”

“He’s been getting crap at school, and from a few of the kids on his hockey team. He told us a little about it, but I think there’s probably more.”

“What’s he getting crap about?” asked Harley.

“His dad being gay. He doesn’t seem to have a problem with Uncle Tom, though. He hardly left his side the entire time.”

“So you went shopping, and you hung out with your family. There has to be more.” Thiago motioned with his sub, encouraging CJ to elaborate.

“Hell yeah! We went to the Statue of Liberty, the World Trade Center memorial, we ate in Little Italy. and walked around the place. On Sunday, we went to the Empire State Building, then to Broadway to watch The Lion King. And that night we had take-out and what was the best part of the trip: meeting Chipper.”

“Who’s that?” Thiago took a sip from his soft drink, waiting for his friend to answer.

“What a great guy! He’s our age. We celebrated his sixteenth birthday yesterday. Goes to this school that sounds really neat.” CJ became quite excited as he spoke of the boy from New York City. “He’ll be moving down to Washington at the end of December to live with Doc. I made an appointment to talk to Mrs. Edwards tomorrow for him. Hopefully, he’ll be going to school with us next semester.”

“That don’t tell me shit. I asked who he was, not what he was like.”

“Ummm. It’s kinda complicated. Okay. Chipper’s dad was Uncle Matt’s boyfriend for a long time. They broke up at the beginning of the summer. His parents are both from Argentina, and his mom’s moving there in January. Chipper was born in the States and wants to stay here. But he doesn’t like his dad.”

“Oh shit. This sounds like a lot of drama. Homes, is your entire life a soap opera?”

 

“Good morning, CJ. Go right in. She’s waiting for you.” The secretary motioned towards the school principal’s office door.

“Thanks,” replied the boy cheerfully, walking through the swinging half door. Coach Thornton had given him a hall pass soon after walking into his social studies class.

Looking away from her computer screen, Martha Edwards smiled at her student. “Come in, CJ. Have a seat.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Edwards.” The boy glanced at the wall behind the principal’s desk. He’d been here before and loved the large, hammered-metal penguin displayed in the center of a collection of school photographs.

“What do I owe the pleasure of your visit this morning, young man? My secretary mentioned you wanted to speak with me concerning a fellow student?”

“Ummm. He’s not a fellow student yet, Mrs. Edwards. But I’m hoping he’ll be next semester. His name’s Cristiano Pereira, Jr. He’s moving to Washington at the end of the year. I told him I would speak with you about becoming a student at Walls.”

“Is this a friend of yours from Miami?”

“No, he lives in New York. He’s moving in with Dr. Calhoun because his mom’s going back to Argentina. I met him this past weekend. He’s a neat kid and I’d love to have him come to our school.”

“Okay. If you think so highly of him, I’ll be glad to see what we can do. He’ll have to fill out the online application. I’d like to see a transcript from his current school. As long as he meets our requirements, and he becomes a resident of the District, we can probably squeeze him in.”

CJ reached for the backpack he’d placed on the floor between his legs when he sat. “Chipper emailed me a copy of his last report card. I printed it out for you.”

The principal chuckled, removed her glasses, and stared at the boy. “You’re certainly keen on having him join us, aren’t you? Why don’t you tell me a bit about this Chipper? You can start with the nickname.”

“Sure! His dad’s name is Cristiano Humberto Israel Pereira. Everyone calls him Chip. Since his son is a junior, like me, he gets called Chipper. He goes to Trinity School, plays basketball for them, and…”

 

CJ lay on the big leather couch, back against the armrest, and his legs stretched out on the cushions. He was wearing one of his dads’ sleeveless Harley-Davidson shirts―a bright, tie-dyed orange and yellow one―and old gym shorts. His laptop sat on his stomach, and a bag full of ice rested on his right ankle. It had swollen up somewhat, after twisting it during rugby practice after classes. He’d have to remember to wrap it during the next several days.

He smiled when he heard his phone chirp indicating an incoming text message.

――sign on bro――

The boy opened up the Skype connection. Moments later he was looking at Chipper’s smiling face, sucking down a bottle of Gatorade. “What you doing, bud?” asked CJ.

“Just got home from basketball practice. Man, they made us run like crazy today. They’re trying to build up our stamina. You?”

“Twisted my ankle at rugby practice so I’m icing it down. Swelling ain’t bad. So, I talked to the principal about you today.”

“Yeah?” There was excitement in the New York kid's voice. “What she say?”

“She said I gave you such a shining report, you should blow me when you get down here.”

“I got your blow job right here.” The image on the screen was momentarily replaced when Chipper rose and grabbed his junk through the basketball shorts he was wearing.

“That little thing? I prefer bigger ones.”

“I’ll give you a big one. Okay, fucker. What did the principal say?”

“She said you sounded like a good fit for Walls.”

“Fucking A! Alrighty then, we get to go to school together.”

“Hang on, you ain’t in yet. She wants to talk to you, your mom, and Uncle Matt. You need to fill out an application. And Trinity has to send her an official transcript. But she promised to bend the regulations a bit so you don’t have to interview the normal way. I’m pretty sure you’re gonna be a Penguin come next year.”

 

“What happened to you?” Brett leaned over the back of the couch, ruffled CJ’s hair, and kissed the top of the boy’s forehead.

“Twisted it at rugby practice this afternoon. It was a bit swollen. I’ve been icing it down since I got out of the shower.”

“Could you have sprained it? Maybe we should call Doc. I’m sure we can talk him into making a house call if we offer him dinner.”

CJ chuckled at the man’s wiggling eyebrows. “I already called Uncle Matt. Left him a message asking if he could get back to me when he got done in the office.”

“Is it that bad? I can take you down there. Maybe he’d want to get some x-rays. Or we can just go to the hospital and―”

“Relax, Papa. It ain’t broken, or sprained. That’s not what I want to talk to him about anyway.”

“Oh?” Brett sank into the cushion next to his son’s foot, removed the ice bag, and gently felt around the ankle. “It doesn’t feel real swollen. Although the skin’s kinda red. Probably from the ice. You shouldn’t keep it on full time.”

“I know. I’ve been doing like fifteen minutes on and fifteen minutes off. Anyway, I called Uncle Matt about my meeting with Principal Edwards.”

“Was that about Chipper?”

“Yeah.”

“So what’s the verdict?”

“Pretty sure he’ll get in. She’s willing to interview him over the phone since he’s in New York. But she also wants to talk to his mom and Uncle Matt.”

“You know he and Susana are coming down, right? Maybe they can meet in person then.”

“I Skyped with Chipper this afternoon. He and his mom are coming down the day after Thanksgiving and staying only one night. Not sure that’s a good time for a meeting.”

“You’re right. Doc’s taking them out to dinner Friday night. Susana wants to see where her son’s gonna be living. She’s agreed to the move, but she’s still worried.”

 

CJ stared at the white marble façade of Old Ebbitt Grill. His mouth hung open in amazement at the imposing structure for a moment, before pushing on the brass and glass revolving door to enter the restaurant. The sumptuous interior startled him. Accustomed to more modern design, and more casual restaurants, the elaborate Victorian décor came as somewhat of a surprise. Highly polished wood reflected light from a myriad of fixtures hanging from or embedded in the ceiling. Others were affixed to the walls, which were adorned with paintings in elaborate gilded frames. Fresh flowers abounded. The total effect was one of opulence.

“Ummm, interesting looking place. Why are we having dinner in such a fancy restaurant? And so early.” The teen and his dads had rushed to shower and get dressed, so they could be at the restaurant at five-thirty.

“Because Danno’s buying. And he can be a cheapskate.” Brett’s comment earned him a slap to the back of the head from his husband.

“Hush, Marine. Behave. CJ, this place has a half-off deal during happy hour. Danno wanted to get here by six, so we could place our order before they raise the prices.” César smiled at the hostess, but before he could speak he noticed their friend waving at them from a booth by the longest bar CJ had ever seen.

“Uncle Danno owns a bar. Why would he care about half-price drinks?”

“Not drinks, buddy.” Brett placed his hand on the boy’s lower back as they followed César into the dining room. “Oysters. Half-price oysters.”

“Hey, guys.” Danno stood up to greet his friends. “How come you’re limping, CJ?”

“Hi, Uncle Danno. Twisted my ankle at rugby practice yesterday. It’s a little sore. I’m trying not to put too much pressure on it.”

“Did you go see Doc?”

“Nah. He came over for dinner last night. Looked at it, and told me to butch up and stop being a sissy.”

“Ha! Our friend, the doctor. Bedside manners of a caveman.”

“So what’s the big deal with this place, Uncle Danno? Papa said there were half-price oysters?”

“Yep. From three to six. And then again between 11:00 p.m. and 1:00 a.m. I already placed an order for six dozen so we’re okay.”

“That’s a lot!”

“I’m sure they’ll all be gone. Don’t worry about it. I wanted to treat, but I’m not stupid. I’d rather pay fifteen bucks a dozen instead of thirty.”

“Okay. I’m not going to complain. I’ve only had oysters once before. But I liked them.”

“Where’s Trip?” asked Brett. “I’m gonna start thinking he’s avoiding us.”

“On deadline. Adriano moved in this weekend. He also had a surprise visitor on Sunday. Parade Magazine bought Trip’s idea for an article combining both events.”

“Sounds interesting. I guess Adriano accepted whatever you proposed.” Brett glanced up from the menu he’d been looking through. “I’m glad he decided to stay in the District instead of moving back to the armpit of the nation.”

CJ giggled at the marine’s derogatory remark about New Jersey. “Papa, I think you just earned yourself another head slap from Dad.”

“And if your father doesn’t give it to him, I will,” added Danno.

“I’ll just wait ‘till we’re back home and then use him as a punching bag. Can’t take my husband anywhere. So tell us about the move. And the visitor.”

“The dinner invite is to thank you for your assist, César. The accounting firm you recommended is great. They helped me work out a plan where Adriano gets an ownership interest in Rogo’s. It’s all contingent on him remaining in Washington and running the place for me.”

“Excellent!” exclaimed César.

“We structured the deal so living on the premises is a requirement of the job. My old apartment on the second floor is now his. Rent-free and with no tax implications. He and the kids moved in this weekend.”

“I guess he’ll be selling the place in Falls Church?” asked Brett.

“The accountants suggested he rent it out. I doubt he’ll ever want to live there again. Too many memories. But there are advantages to keeping it as investment property.”

César nodded. “Yeah, that’s a smart decision.”

“The movers delivered his stuff on Saturday. His mom’s down for the week helping to get him and the kids settled in. So Sunday he came down around lunch, to get away from all the unpacking for a while. He was behind the bar when this giant black man walked in asking for him.” They were interrupted when their server delivered a large metal platter with oysters piled atop mounds of ice chips.

“Those look good!” CJ was already reaching for a shell with a lemon wedge on top.

“Yes, they do. Dig in, guys.” Danno transferred several to his plate, squeezed some lemon juice on them, and added a drop of hot sauce to each one. “So, anyway. I was in the kitchen and I missed the first part of their meeting. But Trip was there, working on his laptop, and he came to get me.”

“Who was the guy?” asked CJ, impatient to hear the rest of the story.

“Dude’s name’s Flynn. He was driving the truck which flipped and Adriano’s wife ran into.”

“Fuck!”

“A little louder, Jarhead? I don’t think everyone heard you. I’m not sure how he tracked Adriano down. The guy wanted to apologize and pay his respects. I walked in to see this mountain of a man with tears streaking down his face and Adriano with a look of shock on his.”

“Damn. That’s intense. Is the meeting what Uncle Trip’s writing about?”

“Partially. The guy’s given up truck driving. He’s working as an auto mechanic now. He has two kids back home in South Carolina. They’re part of the article along with Adriano’s twins. I’ll ask Trip to email it to you when he finishes it.”

 

CJ was grumpy when he returned home from the dojo. He had used an Ace bandage to wrap his ankle tightly, which had made it difficult to pivot smoothly. He wanted a shower and dinner; those were his priorities for the evening. On the bus ride to and from practice, he’d read the draft of the article Trip had e-mailed. The story was rattling around in his head. There was something in the back of his mind he wanted to discuss with his dads over dinner. Afterward, he planned on spending the night reading. He was halfway through Animal Farm and wanted to finish it so he could write his report over the weekend.

“It’s official. I hate it when it’s cold and it rains.” The boy stripped off his slicker, kicked off his shoes, and dropped his backpack on the floor next to the door.

Brett looked up from the couch where he was reading. “Why didn’t you call? One of us would have picked you up.”

“Not worth it. And it just started raining again when I got off the bus, so it was only the walk home that really bothered me.”

“Why don’t you go shower? Dinner will be ready when you get back downstairs. The potatoes are in the oven. I’m going to slice some sweet onions to top these babies,” said César pointing at the big, red, beefsteak tomatoes he was cutting. “Papa will go turn on the grill and throw the steaks on it in a minute.”

“Okay. Did you guys read Trip’s article?”

“That’s what I’m doing right now. Your dad hasn’t looked at it yet. Why do you ask?”

“I wanna talk about it over dinner. Be right back.”

“You and CJ are gonna have to fill me in on it, Jarhead.”

“Knowing our boy, he’ll tell you everything you need to know about it. If he says he wants to talk about it, it means he found something interesting. Kind of a sad story to be honest. Not sure what would have gotten his attention.”

 

“What does the family foundation give money to? I mean, I know you guys made a big contribution to Ben’s StandUp Foundation this summer. What other kind of stuff does it do?”

“Wait. I thought you wanted to discuss Trip’s article.” Brett frowned slightly as he stopped with his fork mid-air. “How come the question about the Davenport-Abelló Family Charitable Fund?”

“It’s kinda related.”

“Oh, this is gonna be interesting. You answer him, César. I’m too hungry to talk much.”

“Asshole.” César laughed at his husband before turning his attention to their son. “The Fund makes charitable donations based on recommendations from the board of directors. In recent years, most of the contributions have gone to groups working on gay issues and military veterans' support. We also give money to the University of Florida and the University of California, Berkley.”

“Who’s on the board of directors?”

“Papa’s the Chairman. There’s me, a couple of Brett’s distant relatives, and the attorney who manages most of the legal matters. Why don’t you tell me what you’re looking for and maybe I can give you a better answer.”

“Uncle Trip’s article focused on Adriano’s twins, the driver’s son and daughter, and how the accident will change their lives. Flynn―that’s the trucker’s name―lives in South Carolina. After serving in the Army, he worked as a car mechanic. He talks about how many black children in the south are born in poverty, are raised in poverty, and die in poverty. His wife’s a nurse, and they both want their kids to go to college, so they can have a better life.”

“Sounds like he’s a good man,” said César.

“That’s the impression I got too.” Brett motioned with his fork for CJ to continue. “Go on. Tell your dad the rest. Pretty sure I know where you’re going.”

“Okay. He started driving a truck so he could make more money, save it up, and buy the garage he worked at when the owner retires. He thought that way they could put enough money aside to pay for the kids to go to school. Now he doesn’t know what’s gonna happen. He won’t go on the road again, so it’s back to working as a mechanic. Their savings won’t be enough to buy the garage. He and his wife are concerned with what will happen to their dreams.”

“They’re in a position which has become all too common in our country.” César wiped his mouth with a napkin, paused a moment, and then turned his full attention to his son. “Grants and loans may help pay for their children’s education, but the burden of debt is often crushing by the time a student graduates.”

“I know, Dad. I hear seniors at school talking about what they’re having to do to afford going to a university. I sometimes feel guilty. I know the savings y’all have for me will pay for everything no matter what.”

“Listen to me, CJ.” Brett’s tone was serious and firm. “Do not ever feel guilty because of money. It’s not illegal or immoral to be wealthy. What one does with their wealth is what’s important. You can either indulge yourself, or you can try to make a difference in the world. Now tells us what you’d like to see happen.”

“Well… If the family trust fund gave out scholarships, I’d like to see those two kids get one. Life would be easier for the parents if they knew that was taken care of.” The boy felt encouraged by the smiles on his dads. “And I’m not sure how it could be done, but maybe you could find a way for Flynn to borrow the money he needs when his boss gets ready to sell the garage? I’d love to be able to help a man who’s been working on a dream.”