Goodnight, My Angel - Georgeotown Book IV - 10. GMA X

The vibration against his butt made CJ wiggle twice during dinner; he ignored the phone until the meal was over. As the remnants were cleared, he reached for it. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

“What’s going on?”

“It’s Thiago. Nadine’s in the hospital. The baby may be coming earlier than expected.”

“Wait, isn’t the kid due in April?”

“Yep. Like six weeks away.” CJ tapped away at his phone before sitting again. “Crap. I hope the baby’s okay. Can it even survive being born so soon?”

César returned the dirty dishes to the table, claimed the seat next to his son, and rubbed his arm. “Yes, they can. Think positive, CJ. Preemies survive much better these days. Did you reply?”

“Yeah. Told him to text or call me.” CJ’s attention remained fixed on his phone, willing it to ring or chirp. Anxiety filled him, concern for Thiago and the baby uppermost in his mind. When the call came through, he nearly dropped the device.

“Hello!” While he listened, the other men reclaimed their seats. “Sorry, man. Yeah, family Sunday dinner, and you know the rule about phones.” Slowly, he relaxed, and a smile preceded a grin.

“Yeah, well, fuck you too. What happened?” CJ stood, walked towards the kitchen, and reached into the refrigerator for a beer—the wine opened for dinner was long gone. He held the bottle aloft when he faced the family, and Owen raised a hand signaling he wanted one too.

“That’s awesome, bro! Congratulations! Hey, Ozzie, the dads, and Ritchie are looking at me drooling for info. I’m gonna put you on speaker.” CJ forgot the beers atop the kitchen counter and returned to the dining table. “It’s Thiago. He has some news for us.”

The eye rolling and smiling appeared synchronized. Owen was the first one to speak. “So are we uncles?”

“Yes, you are.” Thiago sounded tired. “You have a healthy, bouncing nephew. I haven’t met him yet, but a nurse came out to tell me. I’m waiting until they take him to neonatal ICU so I can go see him.”

“Thiago, this is César. Is he okay? Where are you? And how’s Nadine?”

“Hey, Mr. A. She’s fine according to the nurse. Her mom was in the delivery room with her. We’re at Howard University Hospital. The kid’s perfect. Ten fingers and ten toes according to the nurse. She said his weight was good for a preemie. I think the ICU thing’s out of caution.”

“Dude, this is Brett. Congrats! So, does the critter have a name yet?”

“Critter? Fuck you, Captain. That’s my son you’re talking about.” You could hear the new father chuckling. “Of course he has a name. He’s named after my brother and my best friend. I can’t wait for you to meet Fabricio Cesar Baravento.”

 

Monday was President’s Day; CJ and Owen hit the gym early, and afterward drove the Tesla half a dozen blocks to Dog Tag Bakery. The bakeshop run by disabled military veterans had become a favorite place for breakfast treats.

“What’d you get?” CJ had remained in the car while Owen hustled inside.

“The three coffees and six scones. Half sweet and half savory. Between these, the Redskins onesie, the bottle of 2009 Dom Pérignon, and the Cuban cigars in the backpack, I think we’ve got all bases covered.”

“You wanna text Thiago and let him know we’re on our way to pick him up?”

“Sure. Hey, are we gonna stop in and see Nadine when we get to the hospital?”

CJ’s failure to respond caused Owen to stare. “Well?”

“I don’t know, Oz. I’m not sure I can keep my composure around her. I’m afraid my face will show how I feel.”

“Your mom?”

CJ’s resentment against his dead mother had been the subject of countless conversations between the two. “Yeah… I… It just hits too close. Lourdes discarded me and then gave up parental rights without a fight. I know I came out smelling like roses since Papa Brett was able to adopt me, but still…” He would have had no problem if Thiago’s ex-girlfriend had decided to terminate the unwanted pregnancy. An abortion he could understand; abandoning a child was something that made him uncomfortable. “You can stop by her room if you want. I think I’ll wait until we’re at the hospital before I decide.”

 

Thiago sipped the remainder of his coffee and discarded the disposable cup in the trash bin next to the nurses’ station. “Good morning, I’m Thiago Baravento. I think you have my kid in here. I’d like to bail him out.”

The grandmotherly woman behind the counter burst out laughing. “Oh boy, I can smell a first-time father a mile away, and you stink of it. Making jokes, but nervous as all get out.”

“Do you know if he’s okay? Can I see him?”

The nurse glanced away from the computer screen she had paid attention to since Thiago introduced himself. “You betcha. And if you ask real nice, we’ll let your two bodyguards see him with you.” She winked at CJ and Owen.

“Really? But I thought—“

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. You thought because he was in ICU visitors would be restricted. I have news for you, Daddy. We moved your son out of neonatal intensive care this morning. The doctors couldn’t find anything wrong with him.” She looked around conspiratorially. “If you ask me, they screwed up the original due date. That kid was ready to come out.”

Thiago shrugged off the hand his two friends placed on his shoulders and turned to hug them both at the same time. “You hear that, guys? Fabricio’s all right! That has to mean he can come home soon.”

“Maybe as early as tomorrow. Now, someone left a note about not using the mother’s room for your visit. They’ve set up a separate one for when you’re here. Why don’t the three of you follow me? You can ditch the coats, and scrub down in there. I’ll have your son brought in.”

Owen found it hilarious they referred to the practice of holding the newborn against your chest skin to skin as kangaroo care. While Thiago cradled his son sitting in a recliner, CJ and Owen perched on the edge of the bed.

“Mate, the nurse said when a mother does this it stimulates milk production.” Owen’s chuckles bordered on giggles. “Maybe you’ll do the same, and can do away with formula and bottles.”

“Screw you, homey. Just wait until you have a kid. You’ll have to be careful it doesn’t suffocate in CJ’s chest-hair forest.”

CJ watched the father-son duo in wonder. The tiny brown baby had fallen back asleep as soon as Thiago clutched him to his naked torso. “You haven’t fed him yet, have you?”

“Nope. It’ll be a first when the nurse brings in the bottle.”

“You know what to do?”

“I think so. Mom and everyone else have been giving me pointers. I’m sure the nurses will walk me through it when the time comes. I know about burping and the likelihood of getting barfed on.”

“That sounds delightful. Not! I remember Mum feeding Liz after she was born.” Sadness clouded Owen’s visage for a moment. He had been six when his sister Elizabeth Liston was born; her death from cancer at eighteen was a shock to everyone. He and CJ often talked about her and the void her death left in their lives. “She would let me hold the bottle for Liz after she stopped breastfeeding.”

Thiago’s smile disappeared at the mention of breastfeeding. “That’s not something Fabricio will experience anytime soon. He’ll have to wait until he’s older to play with a tit. By the way, Nadine’s mother talked to me last night. Nadine doesn’t want to see the baby or any of us.”

 

March Madness found CJ in the middle of the hoops hoopla. The annual extravaganza began with each collegiate athletic conference’s tournament and concluded with the national championship game. The Big East Conference held its men’s basketball tourney every year at Madison Square Garden in New York City; he and Owen were in town to cheer on the Georgetown Hoyas.

“So, do you have to do anything special for the team while you’re in town?” Ethan fingered the pass hanging from the lanyard around CJ’s neck.

“Not really. They’ll let me know if they need me. However, I doubt it very much. They didn’t last year.” CJ still held the title of Special Assistant to the Associate Director of the Academic Resource Center for Student-Athlete Services. A mouthful for being a glorified tutor, but the basketball program also used him in their recruiting efforts. More than one high school athlete had stopped by his parent’s basement for a game of pool during their official campus visit.

“Then what’s this official-looking thing give you access to?”

“The locker rooms while my school’s team is in them. Stop drooling, pig! The floor while my team’s warming up. There’s also a courtside seat behind the players’ bench reserved for me. I’ll take you down there during the warmups before the game. We can take pictures.”

They split their attention between watching the DePaul and Seton Hall game, the sushi containers on their laps, and conversation. CJ sat at the end of the row in case he had to run and do something for the team, with Sean and Ethan between him and Owen. “Mate, why are you and Sean both paying rent when it’s so expensive to live in New York? You two should just move in together.”

“Fuck you, Ozzie.” Sean leaned forward and stared at his friend. “Just ’cause you had your fairy-tale wedding, and are now living happy ever after, doesn’t mean everyone has to do the same. Why is it whenever someone gets married or has a baby they start thinking all their friends should do the same? Leave Ethan alone.”

CJ came close to choking when he tried to swallow while laughing; he had to put the spicy tuna roll down so he could comb out bits of food from his beard. “If I choke to death, I’m never gonna forgive you. What the hell’s the big deal anyway? The two of you spend more time together at each other places than alone in your own.”

“Because…” Sean paused and sighed. “Look, we’ve talked about it. If we’re still together in a couple of years, we’ll revisit the issue.”

“Why the wait?”

“Because Ethan’s still a very junior member at the law firm. Because if I start going with him to functions, someone’s bound to recognize me at some point. I’m not ashamed of having done porn or having worked as an escort, but not everyone’s as open-minded as you guys, your parents, or their group of friends. Even less so amongst the fucking breeders.”

“You’re worried about what other people think?” The surprise in CJ’s voice was clear.

“In this case, I am. Not for me, but for Ethan. What if an old trick of mine decides he or she doesn’t want to risk their hiring a prostitute becoming public knowledge and fires him? What if somehow, someone, somewhere sees one of my movies? Right now, it could end up damaging his reputation and interfering with his job. Once he’s better established—or better yet, makes partner—it won’t be as big a concern.”

“That’s fucked-up. If anyone who hired you or watched a video you’re in did something against Ethan, they could get in as much trouble by going public.”

“For being so smart, sometimes you’re quite naïve, CJ. They could find one of a million reasons to get rid of Ethan. I don’t want to risk it.”

“It’s still fucked. Why don’t the two of you move to DC? At least the chances of an old trick recognizing you would be smaller.”

“Yeah, but the movies would still be an issue. Plenty of clips of me fucking someone on the internet. And you know well enough once something’s online, it’s there forever.”

 

The following day CJ did not have any commitments until late afternoon, so Owen arranged to visit a section of the Gateway National Recreation Area in the morning. Squeezed into the train during rush hour, CJ found it hard to believe they were headed to the type of natural space he expected to find in a remote area instead of Brooklyn. “You never told me why you wanted to come here.”

Owen held onto the metal bar with his knees bent to help balance himself as the train swayed. “The Nature Conservancy’s working on a couple of projects to create wildlife refuges in large metropolitan areas. I want to see what a successful one looks like.”

Owen’s connection with the Conservancy helped ease the visit. The office of the Commissioner of the National Parks of New York Harbor arranged for a ranger to meet them in Jamaica Bay and escort them around.

“I grew up in Bensonhurst, and the bay was a place I spent a lot of time around.” Hutch must have been in his early thirties and had a friendly disposition. Even though it was the tail end of winter, he still had a tan, attesting to hours spent outdoors. “But back then my mother would have killed me if she knew I went swimming around here.”

They turned up their coats’ collars to ward off the late winter chill. It was colder next to open water than in Manhattan’s concrete jungle. “How come?” CJ watched as a wedge of geese flew by. “And how come there’s so many birds around? I thought they flew south for winter.”

Hutch chuckled as they stared at the avians. “This is south for Canada geese. They come here from the Arctic. All these islands and the freshwater creeks and ponds are a crucial habitat for migrating birds. And I was prohibited from swimming out here because of the pollution. It’s much cleaner these days than when I was a teenager.”

“What changed?” Owen stopped taking pictures and pocketed his phone. “I mean, I’ve read the reports. I know the park came about almost fifty years ago when the City donated the land to the Service. We’re trying to do something similar in other metropolitan areas, and I think a first-hand account is just as important as lists of numbers and legal mumbo-jumbo.”

“Cooperation. Local, state, and federal government pulling together with environmental activists and other concerned citizens. When all stakeholders join in and work together, you’d be amazed at what can be accomplished.”

Owen smirked and elbowed CJ. “Maybe we’ll hire my husband here to do some lobbying for us when we run into a recalcitrant politician.”

“You two are married?” Hutch followed up his inquiry with one aimed at CJ. “What do you do for a living? Are you a lobbyist?”

“Hell no! I’m still in college, but I want to work for the government. I hope to land a position at the State Department. And yes to your first question. Ozzie and I tied the knot last summer.”

“Congratulations! How come he mentioned hiring you as a lobbyist? If you want to work for the US government you’d be on the other side of the table.”

“Oh, I did a little volunteering for a campaign a while back. Ended up meeting a bunch of politicians, and I’m still friendly with a few.”

“CJ’s being modest. When he says he’s friendly with a few he means he has numbers for a couple of past Presidents and a bunch of Senators in his phone.”

“Shut up, Oz. Today’s about you, not about me. All that’s history anyway. I’m just an average college student these days.”

“Not so average if you know that type of people.” Hutch sounded impressed. ”Anyway, considering how the current administration’s decimating our natural spaces by reducing their size and pushing for oil and gas exploration on protected lands, anyone with your type of connections can play an important role. Even an average college student can have an impact as long as they speak up.”

 

“You’re gonna get in trouble with Mr. A.” Ritchie tsked a couple of times, pointing at the phone his brother placed next to his plate. CJ and Owen returned home early Sunday afternoon and called the dads suggesting they have dinner at their apartment instead of the big house. It was something that happened at least once a month since the wedding.

“What are you? Ten?” CJ rolled his eyes and stuck his tongue out at Ritchie. “You trying to get me grounded? For the record, one of the reasons we wanted to have you bring food over here was so I could have the phone out. Different home, different rules.”

“You’re sticking your tongue out at your brother? Who’s acting ten now?” César rolled his eyes. “And what’s so important you need to answer a call in the middle of a family dinner?”

“Not necessarily answer, Dad. Most of our friends would text first anyway. Look, in the past three months, we had important calls from Carson, Gina, and Thiago. None were life or death emergencies, but all were important.” CJ glanced at Owen seeking support. “So Ozzie and I decided to modify your rule. We’ll avoid using the phone, but we want them out so we can see a message coming through. After missing Thiago’s texts when Fabricio was born, we decided one of our phones would always be visible. Doesn’t mean we’ll answer, but…”

Owen stuffed a fried won ton in his mouth and did not elaborate. “You guys are flying out Wednesday, right?”

“Stop talking with your mouth full. Are you trying to change the subject?” Brett took a sip from his beer and returned the bottle to the coffee table. “We leave in the late afternoon. César and I will be in the office in the morning. We’ll bring Wingnut over when we come in.”

Third Line Development, and their related companies that continued to sprout like weeds, occupied the second unit on the building’s third floor. They were outgrowing the space, and Brett was already renovating the second floor to suit their purpose. The previous tenant had vacated the space in January, and the fathers would be moving as soon as they finished the remodeling. Their current office would then revert to being an apartment.

“You guys better take good care of him.” Ritchie sounded like a concerned parent.

“Like we haven’t the other times you’ve been out of town?” CJ focused his complete attention on his brother. “Are you excited?”

“Yeah… But I’m also a little scared. What if I don’t get in?” Ritchie and the fathers were flying to Colorado for a few days. They planned to spend time at their place in Vail, enjoying late-season skiing, and then drive to Colorado Springs for an interview and tour of the Air Force Academy on Saturday morning.

“I felt the same while I waited for GU to accept me, bro. Relax, you’ll get in.”

 

“Love this song!” Owen closed his eyes and swayed to the strains of “Despacito,” Luis Fonsi’s hit from a couple of summers before.

In late 2017, Sebastián Abelló surprised the family with his plans to invest in a restaurant in Washington. Excited about the possibility of decent Cuban food within walking distance, CJ expressed an interest in joining his grandfather in the ownership group. Abuela’s opened in the fall of 2018 with CJ and Owen owning a percentage of the company.

“Why are we sitting outside in winter?” Tank held his hands up towards the stainless steel gas heater positioned next to their table. “It’s freezing out here. I think my butt’s gonna be stuck to the chair. I betcha it’s gonna snow again.”

CJ had become as adept at rolling his eyes as his father. “Stop whining. That damn tower’s putting out enough heat to keep us warm. And for your information, the first day of spring was ten days ago.”

“Give him a break, mate. You gotta remember Tank’s used to Louisiana swamp weather. You know, muggy and full of mosquitos. Just like Florida.” Owen had adapted to the colder weather after moving from Australia as well as CJ had after leaving Miami. Their friend still complained when the temperature dipped below seventy degrees.

“Enough about the weather. We’ll order some rice and beans and all those carbs should warm you up.” CJ reached for one of the menus the server had placed on the table. “This is gonna be our big meal today, Oz. I’m in the mood for fried pork chunks and moros.”

Tank looked confused. “What’s moros?

“Short for Moros y Cristianos. It’s what Cubans call white rice and black beans cooked together. CJ’s grandparents explained it to me the first time I visited Miami. They say it’s a reference to the white Christians and dark Moors who battled over Spain in the fourteen hundreds.”

“Not very PC…”

“Dude, my peeps are definitely not PC. It’s not overt prejudice, but people of my grandparents’ generation think nothing of referring to a black man as ‘el negro’ or an Asian one as ‘el chino.’ What are you gonna have, Oz?”

“Not sure yet. I’m thinking of the vaca frita. So, Tank, what’s up? You said you wanted to talk about something important.” Owen’s fellow rugby player had texted them in the morning, revealed he had a problem he needed advice on, and asked if the couple had time to meet with him. CJ and Owen tried to patronize Abuela’s at least once a week and invited him to join them for a late lunch. Their plans for the day were to study; the half-mile walk to the restaurant was a welcome break.

“Danno’s selling Rogo’s.” The blunt announcement, made without preliminary or subsequent explanation, drew a gasp from CJ.

“Say what? No way! When? How come we haven’t heard about this? Crap, do my dads—“

Owen grasped his husband’s forearm. “Slow it down, mate. Give Tank a chance to answer.”

The inopportune appearance of their server precluded an immediate explanation. Once they placed their orders, CJ pounced. “Okay, son. Spill.”

“I just found out last night. He said I could talk about it with our friends, and he would be talking to your dads and the rest of their group this weekend.” Tank removed his ball cap and ran a hand through his hair before replacing it. “It’s all your fault, you know?”

“What the fuck? How the hell is it my fault?”

“Not yours alone, CJ. Yours and Ozzie’s. He came back a changed man after the trip to California with you two, and the time he and Trip spent in Hawaii afterward. Kept talking about missing the warmth, the beaches, and the surfing.”

“Crap! What about Trip? When’s this supposed to happen?”

“No idea about Trip. We didn’t discuss him. As for when, he thinks the sale can happen by summer. He said he’s had inquiries about selling the business and the property before.”

“Jeez… So, you’re worried about your job?”

“That and living arrangements. Remember, I get to live in the apartment above the bar for free. Part of being the manager.”

“I wouldn’t worry about work, mate. Any new owner might want to keep you on. If not, you can get another one, or go back to doing massages.” Owen did not address the residential aspect of Tank’s worries.

CJ did. “Hey! The housing thing might not be a big problem either. Harley wants to move out of his parents’ place. Maybe you and him can become roommates? I’m sure the dads have an empty unit somewhere you guys can rent. We’ll check with them tomorrow night at dinner.”

The conversation lasted through the meal with CJ and Owen reassuring their friend things would work out. They had walked to the restaurant, and Tank had ridden his scooter; all three hit the men’s room before heading back to their places.

As they exited the lavatory, a thirty-something, bearded man accosted them. “What the hell do you two think you’re doing?” The black and white checkerboard pants and the white chef’s coat suggested a restaurant employee. “You come in, don’t stop by the office to say hello, and I have to find out you’re here from a server who recognized you?”

“Hey, Al. Ozzie and I planned on saying hi.” CJ and Owen shook hands with the man. “We got caught up in our conversation. Have you met our friend Tank before?”

The two strangers sized each other up before shaking hands. While Tank was a few inches shorter than his friends, the olive-skinned man stood somewhere between the other three in height. Short, curly, brown hair and a beard not quite as full as CJ’s framed an angular face. Warm, coffee-colored eyes appraised the shorter man. “Alvaro Diaz. I don’t remember you being part of the group in here for happy hour on Fridays.”

“Nah, I work most Friday and Saturday nights, so I miss those outings. I’m Tanix Janda. You’re the owner, right?”

“One of them.” The man chuckled. “Your two friends here have a piece of the action.”

“Tank plays rugby with me. That’s how we met.” Owen clasped a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “He’s the manager at Rogo’s, the place owned by the dads’ friend we’ve mentioned before.”

“Speaking of your fathers”—Al turned his attention to CJ—“I haven’t seen them in a while. Tell them we can use their business.”

“Dude, what the hell you talking about? This place’s always packed.” CJ jostled his business associate with a shoulder. “You getting greedy?”

“Hey! I have partners who expect a return on their investment. Anyway, good seeing you guys, and good meeting you, Tank. Stop by anytime. Even if it’s without these two. We take care of our friends in the biz.”

Over dinner the following night, they discovered Trip would remain in Washington if Danno returned to Hawaii.

 

Two months after Fabricio’s birth, CJ received a call from Thiago’s mother. She asked for help getting her son out of the house. Except for going to school or work, Thiago had not stepped outside since bringing the baby home. He needed a break, but would not listen to his parents; they thought CJ and Owen might be able to draw him out.

With his parents pushing and CJ pulling, Thiago, at last, agreed to resume his Friday night visits to the dojo when he was not working. The first time it happened, Owen and Harley met them at Rogo’s afterward. The four sat at the bar talking to Tank, enjoying a beer while waiting for their burgers.

“So that’s it, guys. The place’s for sale. Danno mentioned a couple of inquiries, but no bites yet.” Tank wiped the clean bar surface repeatedly between pouring cocktails. “I don’t know what to tell you, Harley. I want to stay here where I pay no rent as long as possible. Stashing away as much money as possible in the bank. I’ll understand if you want to start looking for a place on your own before I’m ready.”

“Bruh, no way. I’ll wait. I’m doing the same by living with the rents anyway. I thought I’d do it for a year, but I don’t mind a couple more months. We can talk about it again in the summer, and see what’s going on then.”

“Dude, what the hell’s taking so long? Did they go kill the cow or something? I’m hungry.” CJ had skipped lunch, munching on a protein bar instead, while stuck in a planning meeting for the upcoming student government election.

“Dude”—Tank mocked CJ’s tone—“you sound like Harley. Stop bitching. If you’re that hungry, I’ll get you some more nuts.”

“Fuck the nuts, I want meat!”

“That’s your department, Ozzie.” Thiago stared at his phone atop the bar surface once again.

“Mate, stop staring at the fucking phone. Fabricio’s going to be fine alone with your parents. Don’t they look after him when you work nights anyway?”

“Yeah, but… I miss him. Hell, now that they don’t stink so much, I don’t even mind changing poopy diapers anymore.” Thiago’s only complaint about the newborn had been the malodorous diapers; the pediatrician suggested a change in the baby’s formula, and he noticed an improvement in the smell afterward. “And I feel kinda guilty. I mean, my parents have been awesome. I hate to go out and force them to look after Fabricio unless I really have to.”

“Bud, you’re sooo wound up you’re going to explode unless you take a break now and then.” CJ threw an arm over his friend’s shoulder and gave him half a hug. “Wasn’t it your mother who called me, and practically threw you out of the house?”

“Still, I have to—”

The ringing phone cut him off, but it wasn’t his, it was CJ’s. “It’s Dad,” he said, looking at the screen. “CJ’s phone, CJ speaking. Hey, Dad. What’s up?”

As CJ listened, the color drained from his face, and his hand shook. He reached in his pocket, took out his credit card, and slapped it on the bar. “We’re at Rogo’s waiting for food. But we’ll get it to go. We’ll be over as soon as we can.”

The other four men stared at him while he tried to compose himself. He had not felt this lost in a very long time. “Tank, run my card through and make those burgers to go. We need to get to my parents’ place. JP and Tom are there. They just had a call letting them know Brad’s on the way to a hospital in Germany.”