Flying Circus - 5. The Mayor - Part II

Monday, 3 May 2027
Balearic Sea

“Those damn kids are gonna make a fortune this trip. I’m surrounded by cussing airmen on base; I can’t clean up my language that quickly.” Ritch was inside with his niece and nephews until they fell asleep on the main salon’s couch. “Liebe read to the boys for a bit, and I really enjoyed watching the three of them interact. I don’t have dollars with me, so I gave each twenty euros. You owe me some change.”

CJ chuckled and moved to the side so his brother could slide between him and Lucy. While Owen and Ritch had supervised the kids, the others again stripped to sunbathe while a steady breeze propelled the Flying Circus south through the Balearic Sea.

“I think we’ll make them a deal and pay a flat amount for the week. We have dollars, so I’ll trade for your euros. Each one gets a Benjamin.”

Ritch appeared shocked. “Are you sending them to Australia with that much money?”

“Oh, hell no. Ozzie will leave them with a few Australian dollars when he drops them off, but that’s it. We’re trying to teach them to keep money in their pocket and not spend it on junk right away. I think they’ll be fine.”

“What the hell would they want to buy anyway? Between the two of you, the grandparents—both sets—and the great-grandparents, those kids get anything and everything they could ever want. What’s that?” Ritch pointed at a rectangular piece of black metal and plastic resting on CJ’s lap.

“This? My new phone.” Grinning, he handed the device to his brother. “I was just connecting to the boat’s wifi.”

“The fuck?” Ritch looked as surprised as he sounded. “A trifold? I read a blurb about these, but the story claimed they wouldn’t be available until next year at the earliest. I didn’t realize they were being sold already.”

“They’re not.”

Ritch, watching as his brother flipped the phone’s leaves, narrowed his eyes. “How the hell you get one then?”

“He blew the manufacturer’s rep. OUCH!” Brett’s retort earned him a hard slap on a bare thigh from César. It would leave a temporary mark.

“Don’t project, Grandpa Cap. I got it early thanks to the South Korean Ambassador, Ritch. We attended a reception at the embassy, and he introduced us to the head of the mobile division for the company that makes them. We hit it off. Turns out he’s a Liston wines fan and carries a bottle or two home whenever he visits Australia. The following week, Ozzie and I got a package from Roh with two identical phones in it.”

“Roh?”

“That’s the guy’s name.” Owen had finally joined them outside. “I had to make sure the kids wouldn’t roll off the couch with the boat listing. Ended up putting a bunch of cushions on the floor in case they do. We’re beta testers, Ritch, but it’s too much for me. I’m still using my old one.”

“So you have to give them back at some point, right?”

“They’re on extended loan, bro. When they become available to the general public, I figure we’ll have to return them or buy them. But I suspect we’ll get the next model to test. I’m trying not to benefit too much from my position—”

“But you do, Blanche, you do. OUCH! Damnit, César. Stop it. That hurts.”

“Then stop making stupid comments.”

Shaking his head at his fathers’ antics, Ritch ignored them. “So what does it do?”

“Same shit most phones do. But when I open the three leaves, I have the same screen size as a small tablet. Plus, I get to have three different numbers.”

“What? How can you keep track of that shit?”

“The segments can function as separate lines, each with a chip, or I can use the entire thing for one number. That’s convenient for conference calls. Together, they make it easier to read stuff.”

“And that?” Ritch pointed at a bar to one side.

“Alerts for all three numbers.” CJ tapped one of the icons, and a display listing everything associated with that line came up. “This is my main work number. Let’s see what Carson has to say.”

Carson Sawyer and CJ met on move-in day their freshman year at Georgetown University. While CJ graduated from the School of Foreign Service, Carson received his degree from the McCourt School of Public Policy. He worked for the previous mayor, helped run her final campaign, and reprised his involvement when CJ announced his candidacy. He had been campaign manager and currently served as his chief-of-staff.

“Oh, crap. The Grands made the news.”

Brett and César simultaneously straightened on their loungers. “Us? Why?”

“Hang on, still reading.” Over the subsequent minutes, CJ chuckled a couple of times. When he put the phone down, his grin was blinding. “This is great!”

“How about you share with the rest of us?” Accustomed to his husband dragging things out, Owen had mastered ways to prod CJ. “Stop trying to build up the drama.”

“Yeah, bro. Out with it.”

“Crap, you guys are pushy.” The exaggerated sigh did not diminish the questioning stares. “I only scanned the article, but my nemesis wrote about our vacation.”

“Who’s your nemesis?” Because he did not live in Washington, Ritch was not entirely up to date on who was who in CJ’s current circles.

“This so-called reporter who hates me. She supported the Democratic Party’s candidate and ripped me regularly during the campaign. It hasn’t gotten any better since I won.”

“What does she say?”

“That our trip probably costs more than my annual salary and—”

“Does it?”

It was César who responded. “Pretty sure it does. And if you add the cost of all the post-sailing travel, she’s definitely right. But that’s none of her business. Brett and I are picking up the lion’s share of the costs.”

CJ grinned, anticipating his fathers’ reaction. “That’s where you guys come in. She’s demanding an audit of the family foundation, claiming you guys are diverting charitable funds for personal use.”

“WHAT?” Brett’s reaction was what CJ expected. “She needs to get slapped or water-boarded, and I volunteer. How the fuck do you put up with this type of bullshit?”

“I don’t think she has any idea what your net worth is. You don’t make your taxes and investments public like I do.” CJ winked at his father. “And I don’t put up with it. I always hit back. Politely, but hard. But since I’m on vacation—”

“You gonna let her get away with this shit? Because if you are, I’m getting involved.” Brett was fuming, and CJ knew his father could be unpredictable when upset. Almost as unpredictable as he was.

“Cool your jets. We don’t have to do shit. Carson sent me the best replies to the story. My women came to our defense. And they don’t need to tiptoe around their replies the way I would have to.”

“Your women?” Lucy’s raised eyebrow reminded CJ she often had insights differing from those of his male-centric group.

CJ shrugged. “Listen to this.” He retrieved the phone and scrolled down the screen. “This one’s from Aja.”

“That the fat, black chick?” Ritch failed to notice his girlfriend winding up for the punch to his arm.

“Sexist, racist, body-shaming… I expect better from you, Lieutenant.” Lucy did not sound amused.

“Yeah, Ritch.” Owen was apparently in the mood to pile on his brother-in-law. “The proper way to say the same thing would be the full-figured, African-American woman.”

CJ rolled his eyes. “I swear I’m gonna push for a law making all florid, politically correct language go away. You weren’t far off, Ritch. She refers to herself as an angry, black chick. Although she’s not as angry these days. Anyway, let me read you her reply: ‘Jealous much, bitch? Get a real job, make some money, and you could afford nice trips too.’”

“Daaamn! She doesn’t mince words, does she? Wasn’t she like borderline socialist at one point? I wasn’t at the party you met her at, but I remember you telling me about her.”

“She was, but your brother turned her into a full-fledged capitalist.” Owen shrugged when Ritch motioned for him to continue. “She was an office clerk or something like that when we met her. Hated her job and blamed the man for her unhappiness. Although friends with Taisha, she had no idea how much money we had. At that party. when she said white people should pay more taxes, CJ and Thiago went to town on her.” Thiago Baravento was part of the inner circle of friends.

Owen acknowledging their wealth was a joint matter made CJ smile. He still remembered the Aussie being reticent about accepting he had become a millionaire through marriage. “And that was like six or seven years ago when what we had was mostly from the trust funds.”

“What made her change her attitude?”

“When we returned from Mexico, we introduced her to Adele.” CJ remembered Aja being at a dinner party at their home the weekend after he, Owen, and Liebe had flown in from Key West. Aja’s outfit had dazzled Adele with its bright colors and funky graphics. She paid Aja a compliment, and she admitted to designing and sewing it herself.

“Adele Whitman was the surrogate for the twins, Ritch. Your brother seems to forget you’re not around all the time, so you don’t know all the players.”

“Hey, he wants details, he should start reading what’s written about us. Anyway, Ritch, Adele planned to use what we paid her to fund her startup—a designer and manufacturer of athletic pregnancy wear. When we introduced her to Aja, they hit it off and started talking about collaborating.”

“Eventually, that led to us investing in Goddess Wear.” Owen alternating with CJ when telling a story was something the family was accustomed to; César and Brett did the same thing. “Adele wanted to hire Aja and a few other people, but her fee would not cover everything. We ended up buying a piece of the company. Since then, Aja’s been such an important cog she now owns part of it herself. She brought in her sense of style, introduced urban influences, and pushed to expand the brand to full-figure women. She’s making more money than she ever imagined.”

“You guys keep adding businesses, and I can’t keep track.” Ritch looked lost. “And for the record, if I read everything published about the two of you and the kids, I'd be busy 24/7. You guys have turned into media whores.”

“Don’t be a hater, bro. Okay, the second response Carson highlighted was from Cristina.” CJ gave his brother an evil look. “That’s Cristina Pereira, Ritch. She’s Chipper’s sister and Brad’s fiancé.”

“I know who she is, you asshole. What did she say?”

“Long as shit reply. Most of it’s boilerplate for the digital currency project. She claims if politicians took vacations resulting in jobs for D.C. residents like I was doing, maybe the public should elect more people like me. She praises me for looking forward and embracing new ways of doing business.”

“You’re not in crypto anymore, right? You told me you got out last time I saw you guys.”

“We have a wallet we use to pay for certain things, but the investment portion we divested when CJ was elected.” Owen had questioned his husband’s decision at the time. “I disagreed with CJ. There are no limitations on what he can invest in as mayor, but he insisted on the stupid blind trust for everything except specific entities.”

“Like Goddess Wear and Abuela’s?” Ritch had already mentioned one of the things he missed being stationed in Italy was Cuban food. Particularly from the small restaurant chain in the D.C. area partly owned by his brother and brother-in-law.

“Yep. Those two, District 13—”

“The bakery by your house? I thought the football players bought it when the owner died.” The football players were Riley Knight and Phil Martinez. They had come out after being selected by the Washington and Baltimore National Football League franchises, bought a home in CJ and Owen’s Capitol Hill neighborhood, and had become friends.

“That’s the one. We ended up putting in some money and own a chunk of it too.”

“Didn’t you guys tell me you also increased your stake in the rugby team?”

“We did. And that meant increased involvement. Because I have so much on my plate, Owen’s taken the lead with the team.” Old Glory was the city’s Major League Rugby team. At its inception, CJ and Owen had been invited to become minority investors and had subsequently added to their ownership percentage. “We want to eventually become the primary owners and help run the team.”

“Whatever, bro. I can’t keep track of how many pies you have your fingers in. Who was the third response from?”

“Katie Mulcahy.”

“That the Idaho politician?”

“She is. And she’s an ardent CJ supporter. Last year, when she endorsed your brother over the Republican nominee, she got a lot of shit. But she didn’t back down and credited CJ with being sufficiently broadminded to support her, a Republican, as well as more liberal Democrats. Your brother’s building a nice stable of admirers in Congress.”

“And I’m hoping that following grows after next year’s election. We need as many of those fuckers supporting D.C. statehood as possible.”

“CJ, how did you connect with Katie? And what did you do she gives you so much credit?” Although Lucy knew a bit more than Ritch about the people CJ was talking about, her information was limited since she had been at school in Boston the past few years.

“Back when we were living in Mexico, I flew to D.C. for a couple of days to sign surrogacy contracts. I invited Carson to lunch, and he introduced me to Katie. We verbally sparred a bit, and I liked her. Long story short, Ozzie and I sent her a campaign contribution; she was running for Congress. At some point after Mexico, she invited us to go hunting with her. We did when I made a stop in Idaho during my book slash speaking tour, and we’ve been joining her on and off since. It helps me with the conservative elements to prove I’m not anti-gun and helps her with the moderates and liberals. I mean, she’s hanging out with a gay politician.”

“A gay man with a rifle who has enough money to buy the piss-ant state she calls home. OUCH!”

“Stop interrupting, Jarhead.”

“Anyway, Ritch, she’s running for the Senate next year, and I’ll be endorsing her to replace the retiring Mike Crapo.”

“What difference would that make in her piss-ant state?” Ritch shared a grin with Brett. “Not like you’ll get her a lot of votes. They’ll see you as a leftie.”

“Maybe, but my endorsement will get her cash. And those contributions could make or break her candidacy. Our PAC will also pump money into her campaign.”

“I still don’t know why you”—Ritch pointed at CJ and Owen—“have a damn Political Action Committee.”

“Because donations aren’t limited, allowing us to raise lots of money for politicians who support positions we do.” That had always been Owen’s reasoning.

“Ozzie’s right. We’ve figured out I can fundraise with the best of them. I’ve got a national image we’re carefully grooming, and all that money allows us to support candidates who'll endorse my efforts in the District. You have to remember we’re nothing but a colony of the Federal government.”

“Give it up, CJ. Nobody’s gonna buy into your idea of a Washington, D.C. Declaration of Independence and secession.” César had warned him the mere mention of it could backfire and to be careful when he pitched it. “Lincoln made sure once a state always a state.”

“But that’s just it, Dad. We’re not a state. We’re a colony of the United States of America, and we all know what happened when thirteen colonies got tired of the British yoke. I don’t need to push for it. I can rattle cages by privately mentioning it to the right people.”

Ritch shook his head and sighed. “When the hell did you become so calculating, bro?”

“At birth. He was just biding his time until recently.” Brett anticipated César’s move and grabbed his husband’s arm before he could slap him again. “Stop it, César. You’re gonna leave a bruise.”

CJ cracked up. “Grandpa Cap’s exaggerating. I learned a lot by working as a volunteer in two presidential campaigns and watching how other races were run. The main thing I picked up was that allies are imperative. I ran as a third-party candidate and didn’t even have the full support of the Greens because I wasn’t progressive enough. When the president, a Democrat, endorsed me, and big-shot Republicans abandoned their candidate and supported me, it proved building a coalition can get someone elected.”

“Who else are you endorsing next year?”

“Brian Sims in Pennsylvania, Ryker Burnett in California, and Paul Parker’s sister-in-law in Rhode Island. Plus, a couple of others in Michigan and Florida you’ve never heard about. For now. We’ll see who else wants to play in our sandbox.”

“What about for president.”

“Nobody yet. I made an announcement I’d wait until after the conventions to decide.”

“Not that that has stopped anyone from trying to curry favor.” Owen had already complained about the parade of supplicants showing up at their doorstep. “Potential candidates from both major parties or their surrogates, even if they haven’t announced, have been beating a path to our door since CJ won the mayoral race last November.”

Ritch leaned more into Lucy, resting his head on her shoulder. “Why? I mean, you’re a rookie mayor. How much can you do for them?”

“A lot, apparently. It’s all about being seen with me and claiming they agree with whatever positions of mine they can get behind. D.C. statehood’s a non-negotiable requirement. They publicly support it, or I say sayonara. Of course, what else they support depends on whether the candidate is on the right or the left. You called us media whores, but we’re blushing virgins compared to how much some of these candidates are willing to prostitute themselves.”

“And you’re gonna use them as much as you can, right?” Ritch’s grin showed he was enjoying the banter. It was rare for them all to be together without distractions.

CJ loved having serious conversations with his fathers and brother. “Damn right, I will. Political blackmail’s an accepted practice. You should have seen the fear in a couple of Virginia politicos when I quietly mentioned I might try to get back the portion of the District returned to them in 1847.”

“Can you do that shit? I remember my history class at Sidwell. Isn’t the part we gave back like the wealthiest section of Virginia?”

“I’m impressed you said ‘we gave back,’ bro. Proves you think of yourself as a Washingtonian.”

“Duh! What else would I think of myself as?”

“A Coloradan. Didn’t you register to vote using the Vail house while you were at the Academy?”

“Come on, CJ, the moment you made it official you were running, I changed it to D.C. There was no way I’d not vote for you.”

“Thanks, bro. As much as I wish we had that land back, I doubt it’ll happen. We might be able to win in court, but it’d take years. I want to revitalize The District a lot faster.”

“How?”

“Better jobs and better education. We don’t have the land or infrastructure for large manufacturing, but we have red tape, small businesses, and tourism. I want to grow all three segments since they generate the most revenue.”

“More politicians? More tourists? Don’t we get enough?”

“Not more politicians, but more think tanks, conferences, and conventions. We get somewhere between twenty-five and thirty million visitors a year. Vegas gets twice as many, and Orlando three times. I think we can add a few.”

“How? Not like you can have a new monument every year.”

“We’re gonna start with sports. And art. I appointed a new director for that job and roped individuals from several universities, museum directors, and a few professional sports teams as advisors. With the Commanders getting a new domed stadium, I want at least a couple of annual college football bowl games, a spot in the Super Bowl rotation, the NCAA final four, the college football championship… you get the idea. And Maryland’s governor and I want to explore bringing the Olympic Games to the Washington-Baltimore corridor.

“I also drafted Chipper to help. Since he headlined at Coachella this year, I want him to help us stage a couple of music events. I’d love for us to have something like the New Orleans or Newport Jazz festivals. And maybe a show like Art Basel in Miami. And I want schools to stress STEAM, so our kids have a more balanced education.” The STEAM approach augmented the science, technology, engineering, and math curriculum with arts programs.

“Pretty ambitious, bro. Can you do it?”

“Sure as shit hope so. If I didn’t, I wouldn’t have run. Look, D.C.’s the nation’s capital, for better or worse, I’m sort of a national figure, and I plan to use both to increase our visibility. My predecessor was in the news a lot during the BLM summer and Trump’s coup attempt, but otherwise, she was rarely seen. I want to nationalize the office. I want us to be in the news all the time and not always because of the Federal government.”

“Yep. Just like I thought. Media whore.”

“Fuck you. People will notice if I’m on the Sunday news shows frequently and share my views on anything and everything. Particularly politicians. All the photo shoots and magazine covers Owen, the kids, and I have done always give us a bump in the polls. We’re photogenic, and people seem to like us.” CJ shrugged, he freely acknowledged their looks helped, even if it was not why he thought people should be elected. “My goal’s to expand my name recognition and influence so politicians want my support. I help them; they end up owing me. It won’t be this year or next, but hopefully, we’ll have enough allies to push statehood through by the end of the term or the beginning of the next one.”

“So you’re already planning to run for reelection?”

“It’s not a sure thing, but I’ll need something to do until I’m old enough to run for something else. I’ll also need to stay out of trouble until that time comes.”

 

When the kids woke from their nap, the sails had been lowered, and they were motoring toward their first anchorage. Captain Hollis had stopped by to let them know the chef could not finish preparing dinner while the boat listed to one side.

Surprisingly, Nina also made an appearance on the upper deck. She carried a cheese, fruit, and crackers tray for them to snack on. Appearing calmer than when CJ had spoken to her earlier in the day, nearly docile, he assumed the captain had brought about the shift in attitude.

“Is this good enough for everyone?” She smiled when setting the platter within reach. “If you’d like something else, for yourselves or the kids, just let me know.”

Since she had directed her comment at CJ, he replied. “I think this is good. Thank you, Nina.”

Their repast was interrupted when Cory Davis, one of the deckhands, stopped by. “Hey, guys. You might want to take a look over the port side. We’ve picked up escorts.” She grinned when everyone looked confused. “There’s a pod of dolphins chasing—”

“DOLPHINS!” Liebe’s shout precluded Cory from finishing the sentence. “Where are my sunglasses and my phone?” She ran into the lounge, retrieved the items mentioned, and joined her brothers at the rail.

One of them tugged on her t-shirt. “You recording?”

“Yep. Just started. Ceej, can you see if I did it right on the phone?” She handed her father the device, and he tapped at it.

“Yes, you did.”

With her brothers jumping and shouting at her side, Liebe constantly moved her head, trying to capture the dolphins and the boys in the same frame. Owen squatted next to them. “Give her a little room, boys. Liebe, remember not to jerk your head around so much. Pan slowly so we can see when they breach.”

While Owen spoke to the kids, CJ snapped pictures of them. “Hey, look my way for a second.” He captured a couple of shots with all four smiling.

“You were right about you guys being photogenic.” Lucy, standing at his side, pointed at the picture. “If you were in it, it would be a great family shot. Ozzie’s good with them.”

“You have no idea. He’s a hell of a lot better at it than I am. I mean, those three rascals try my patience constantly, but Owen never seems to get flustered. I hit the jackpot with him.”

 

Thanks to their early departure from Barcelona, and strong trailing winds, travel time had been shorter than the original estimate. Sóller was the only port on Mallorca’s north coast, but it was not their destination. Instead, Captain Hollis mentioned anchoring off Sa Dragonera’s Cala en Bubú. A small, dragon-shaped island off the northwest corner of Mallorca, Dragonera housed an ancient watchtower and a nature preserve. The Bubú inlet provided protection from wind and sea, with calm waters to play in.

“Excuse, Mr. Mayor?” Cory, the deckhand, had approached him quietly. “Since we have time before dinner, would you like us to set out water toys?”

“Excuse me? You’re asking him instead of me? I thought since I was paying for the trip, I’d get to make decisions.” Brett sounded put out.

“Shut up, Jarhead.”

“Yeah, Grandpa Cap, just shut up.”

While Brett huffed and the kids giggled, Cory blushed. “Sorry, Captain Davenport. It’s just that since he has kids with him—”

“I have kids with me too. What do you think CJ and Ritch are?”

“Give it up, old man.” CJ’s hand wave dismissed his father’s complaint. “You’d have to bring them in for the night, right?”

Cory nodded. “Yes, sir. We must be ready to move the boat at a moment’s notice if we drag anchor or something else happens.”

“Too much work. Let’s forget the toys today, but I’d like you to set up the swim platform.” CJ held a hand up when he turned his attention to the children. “Hey, you three delinquents, wanna go swimming before dinner?”

The loud response was followed by the three running indoors, shouting about changing into bathing suits. CJ followed. The dolphins became a memory. Once they slowed and lowered the anchor, the marine mammals disappeared.

 

“I’m jumping in first.”

“No, I go first.”

“I do.”

“No, I do.”

“STOP!” CJ, partway down the narrow stairs leading to the stern platform, turned to find Liebe smirking and her brothers suddenly quiet. “Neither one of you’s going in first. Liebe, wanna jump in now?”

The girl nodded, pushed her brothers aside, and rushed to meet her other father, already in the water. Cheers from the adults accompanied her splash.

CJ did one final check of the boys’ life vests before giving them a stern warning. “You two better behave. If you don’t, I won’t let you in the water the entire week. Do we understand each other?”

Jefferson and Roosevelt nodded.

“Okay, you can join your sister. Remember, you have to come out the minute Ozzie or I say so. Try not to drown, okay?”

Once again, they jostled each other in a rush to dive in. CJ missed who wound up being first since Captain Hollis’s laughter distracted him. “What? You think it’s funny?” He grinned when she nodded. “I’ll let you deal with them next time.”

“Nope. Not interested. I laughed because their exuberance died when you laid down the law. Do you always talk to them as if they were adults?”

“Yeah, we did it with Liebe, and it seems to have worked out. Are you on break? Coming in the drink with us?”

“No and no. Breaks are rare for captains. I’m down here to check their swimming prowess.” Leaning over the railing, she gave CJ a thumbs up. “They do look as if they know what they’re doing.”

“Want further proof?”

“Sure.”

CJ leaned over next to her. “Jeffer! Roo! How about a little competition? Let’s see which one of you can swim around the boat the fastest. Winner gets extra wine at dinner.” Before he could signal them to start, both were already gone. With a tilt of the head, CJ indicated Owen should trail them. Ritch did too.

Captain Hollis and CJ followed along from the deck, walking around the Flying Circus while watching the boys. “I’m impressed. You weren’t kidding about them being able to swim.”

“We made sure all three learned early. My cousin’s our neighbor, and he and his wife have a pool in their backyard. They also have a son a month younger than the twins. I’m pretty sure Liebe and the three boys spend more time in the water than on land. So, can we do away with the life jackets when they’re on deck?”

“I think so.” Captain Hollis nodded while staring at the two tiny swimmers. “I’ll leave it up to you as to when they should wear them.”

“Whenever we take the jet skis out, they’ll wear jackets and helmets. Otherwise, I’m fine with them going without. Well, except if they decide to jump in from up here.”

“You’d let them?” She sounded somewhat surprised.

“Maybe… I know I am. And if I do it, my brother and one of my dads will too. And the boys will howl if I don’t let them. Those two are fearless. And their sister’s not far behind.”

 

Dinner was served and eaten, and because the sun did not set until half-past eight, the kids insisted on swimming again. Knowing it would help tire them out, the fathers readily agreed. As CJ had predicted, when he jumped off the deck, the tykes scrambled out of the water, wanting to emulate their father. Owen vetoed the idea. “Too damn high. Dealing with a broken neck’s not something I want to do this week.”

The three were exhausted when CJ and Owen called time. The fathers helped them rinse thoroughly and put them to bed. When CJ and Owen returned topside, everyone else was in the hot tub, cocktails in hand.

“They’re gonna need longer naps if we want them to stay up later.” Owen nodded when Wyatt asked if he wanted a drink. “What’s everyone drinking?”

“Scotch.” That came from Brett and Ritch.

“Port. Wanna taste it?” Lucy offered him her glass while César raised his to show the same ruby liquid in it.

“Mmm, that’s good—Tawny Port at its best. I’ll have the same, Wyatt. You wouldn’t happen to have any dark chocolate around, would you?” When everyone stared at him, Owen shrugged. “What? Port and dark chocolate were made to be enjoyed together.”

“I’ll see what I can find, Mr. Liston. At a minimum, I know there’s a bowl full of dark chocolate Kisses in the main salon.”

“That works. Thanks, Wyatt.”

“My pleasure, sir.”

“I think they’ll sleep longer tomorrow afternoon, Ozzie.” César put the end of his cigar in his mouth, tilted his head back, and blew a cloud of smoke. “All they did today was sit around while we sailed. They’ll burn off a lot more energy playing in the water tomorrow morning.”

“I sure hope so. Where did you get the cigar? Is it a Cuban?”

“Romeo y Julieta. When Wyatt returns, ask him to bring the box by again.”

“I’m getting in on that.” CJ slid a tad closer to Owen and kissed his cheek.

“What was that for?”

“Earlier, when the kids were watching the dolphins, Lucy said something about how good you were with them. I told her I’d hit the jackpot with you. The kiss was for being a great husband and an even better father.”