Goodnight, My Angel - Georgeotown Book IV - 15. GMA XV

“What up, Legless?” On his first full day back in Washington, CJ stopped by Walter Reed Medical Center to visit his injured friend.

“You dipshit.” Brad’s laughter was contagious. He bumped fists with a chuckling CJ and adjusted his position on the bed. “I betcha the stinkin’ fuckin’ Arab who planted that IED had no idea it would lead to me getting a new nickname.”

“You’re in mighty good spirits.” CJ sat on the bed’s edge next to the soldier, delighted to find him in a happy mood. Three weeks after arriving from Germany, Brad’s body continued to heal. His disposition showed marked improvement from when CJ last saw him before leaving on the motorcycle trip.

“Fuck, yeah. I’m ready to get out of this shithole. Where’s Ozzie?”

“He said to tell you he’ll come by tomorrow. He had a meeting at the Nature Conservancy. You know he starts work there fulltime at the end of summer, right?”

“Yeah, my cousin’s going to be in the real world at last. You guys leaving town again in a couple of days?”

“Headed to New York. Since this is the last time we both have the entire summer off, we’re trying to get in as many trips as possible.” CJ thought through his next words, not wanting to say something that might upset his friend. “We made plans last year to spend time on Fire Island. At Tony and Colt’s place.” Now came the tricky part. “We’ll also stop by to check on Chipper’s sister. She’s due like yesterday, so we figured we’d go visit her and the kid. Their mom’s flying up from Buenos Aires for the birth. It’ll be good to see Susana again.”

“Oh, yeah, that reminds me.” Brad stretched an arm and grasped the edges of a folder resting atop the swivel table by the bed. He retrieved a squarish envelope from inside and handed it to CJ. It was addressed to Baby Prado. “Would you take it with you and give it to Cristina and her husband? I had Paddy pick it up for me. It’s a congratulations card.”

CJ was delighted with how well Brad was handling the woman he crushed on through high school giving birth. “You got it, bud. Anything else I can do for you?”

“Nope. I think everything’s set at home. You were right about that Leo guy who works with your dads. He’s one of the good ones.” Leo Dallas, the retired Marine owner of Leatherneck Construction, was the primary contractor for Third Line Development. “Not sure if you heard, but he added ramps, reconfigured a couple of doors, and fixed up the downstairs bedroom and bathroom for me.”

“I knew he was going to do the work. I heard your old man mention installing an elevator so you could use the second floor. That still on?”

“Doesn’t make sense, CJ. The wheelchair’s a temporary thing. Once I get legs, I can handle the stairs. Bet you didn’t know Leo refused to charge for the work or the materials.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah. He said it was the least he could do for someone who’s worn the uniform. He’s come by to see me and told me he has a nephew in the Marine Corps right now.”

CJ tried to suppress the smile bubbling on his lips. He remembered fucking Eli in the darkened, unfinished basement by the outside light’s glow. Leo’s nephew had left with a smile on his face. “Eli! You didn’t get to meet him before he enlisted. Cool as shit guy. The summer before you and your brother moved down, he worked for Leo when they did my dads’ basement. One of the nicest guys I ever met.”

“Maybe I’ll meet him if he ever comes back to DC. So, how long are you and Ozzie gone this time?”

“We’ll be back by the Fourth.”

“That’s great. I’m pushing to get out of here by then. I can recover at home as well as in here. If you’re back in time, we can watch the fireworks from your dads’ rooftop.”

On Friday, Chipper and Ethan met CJ and Owen at Penn Station; together, the four traveled the rest of the way to Fire Island. The beaches on the thin barrier island off the southern coast of Long Island were a summer refuge for New Yorkers. Amongst the villages dotting the enclave, Cherry Grove and The Pines catered to the GLBT community.

“What if your sister goes into labor while we’re over here?” Buffeting winds threatened to lift Ethan’s ball cap off; he turned it around and jammed it over his head until the bill struck the back of his neck. With no paved roads connecting the small island’s car-accessible end-points, vacationers relied on regular ferryboat service to reach their destinations.

“Mom calls me, and I make my way back to Manhattan.” Chipper adjusted his sunglasses and ran a hand through his hair. The four friends clustered on the boat’s top deck, ignoring the carousing and flirting surrounding them. “Not like I’m going to be in the delivery room or anything. By the way, Ethan, thanks for inviting me out.”

“Save your gratitude for Colt and Tony. They’re the ones who control the house, and the ones who organized this weekend. Sean and I don’t even have a full share.” Leasing a beach house on Fire Island for the summer was expensive; groups came together and split the cost and occupancy privileges.

“What happened to whatshisname?” CJ stared at Chipper as the man sat on the pink Adirondack chair next to his. They spent Friday and Saturday either around the pool or on the sand, a cocktail never far from reach. Last night they had gone dancing, toasted CJ and Owen’s first anniversary at midnight, and Chipper had dragged home some pretty actor-wannabe for a fuckfest.

“Ugh! He left after we screwed. Scared him off.”

“Braggart!” Sitting on the pool coping with their feet in the water, Colt and Tony bumped fists. Laughter brought both perilously close to spilling their coffee. “I mean, we’ve all seen you naked. Your tackle’s nice, but nothing to run away from. What was he? A virgin or something?”

“Jerk! Hardly a virgin. Trust me.” Chipper sipped from his own steaming mug while wiping sleep off his eyes. “It had nothing to do with dick size. He said he didn’t do confused guys when I told him I was bi.”

“You’re confused?” Tony sounded perplexed himself.

“Fuck no, I’m not. I know I like both. He said he couldn’t have a relationship with someone who might leave him for a woman.”

“Mate, you brought back a trick, and you discussed relationships?” The men shared Owen’s surprise. “And he got upset because you might leave him for a woman? What if you left him for another man? Would that be okay?”

“Don’t look at me, mate. He started it. None of that shit makes sense to me. All I wanted was some dick and ass. I think the guy’s one of those that thinks if you have sex it means you’re interested in pursuing something. Haven’t these people heard of sport fucking?”

“Give it a break, Chipper. I’m all for hookups if that’s what someone’s into. But we’re not all wired the same. After you guys made a big deal of our anniversary at midnight, we talked to another couple for a while. They were surprised we turned down the offer for a foursome. One said we were too young not to fuck around.” CJ stood and stretched while yawning. “I need more coffee. Anyone else?”

“You’re gonna have to wait a few minutes.” Also yawning, Ethan stood on the threshold holding a mug. “I just took the last of it and started a new pot. Why are you arguing with Chipper so early in the morning?”

“It’s not that early. And where’s your other half?”

“An hour out. He just called and woke me up. And you avoided answering the question.”

“Jeez… Give the lawyerly approach to questions and answers a break, Ethan. We weren’t arguing.” CJ recounted the conversation while peering into the kitchen through the glass doors. “So that’s where you walked in.”

“I’ll give this one to CJ. No two relationships are the same.” Ethan peered over the rim at CJ and smirked. “Except for your dads, their neighbors, and you and Ozzie. You guys are like clones of each other. You’ll always be together.”

CJ leaned over the back of Owen’s chair and planted an upside-down kiss on his husband. “You better believe it, buster. That’s us. Together forever.”

“Together forever and never to part
Together forever we two
And don't you know
I would move heaven and earth
To be together forever with you”

The impromptu, simultaneous rendition of Rick Astley’s 1980s classic by Colt and Tony elicited peals of laughter.

“I love that song! Damn! I gotta learn it.” Chipper jumped off his seat and headed inside. “I’m gonna turn on the sound system, guys. Okay?”

“Knock yourself out.” Tony slid off the pool’s edge into the water. “Oh yeah, that feels good. Hey, CJ. You were talking of acceptance without understanding. I’ve got two of those. Transgendered people and gay men with wives.”

General nodding indicated agreement from CJ and consensus amongst the group of friends. “The first one I doubt I’ll ever completely understand. Feeling as if you’re one thing trapped inside another would be maddening. The other one, I can understand some of the reasons why it happens, but I’m not sure I could do it.”

“Hey, coffee should be ready by now.” Ethan used a thumb to point behind him. “But before you go, let me tell you about one of the partners at my firm. Real old guy, in his eighties. Retired, but still comes in a couple of days a week and does some work. After he found out I was gay, he started talking to me. Turns out he’s been married to the same woman for over fifty years even though he’s always been into guys. It was what was expected, so he did it. I asked about cravings for sex with men. He joked they disappeared over time due to him ignoring them. He supports gay rights like crazy, but he’s not sure he’d do things a different way. He wouldn’t want to give up his wife.”

CJ shrugged. “To each his own. Not for me. I may feel a little sad for him, but that’s based on my own life, and the time I live in. Maybe he’s happy for real, and I say more power to him. I hope he has no regrets.”

Eventually, Sean’s arrival with a bag of fresh bagels drove everyone inside. They took turns in the kitchen with Tony directing brunch preparation. While the food cooked, Colt mixed a pitcher of mimosas. By the time the meal was over, the pitcher was refilled more than once.

For the second year in a row, CJ discovered a wine he liked while on Fire Island. He reached for the bottle of Sawmill Creek 2018 Rosé of Pinot Noir—a product of New York’s Finger Lakes region—and refilled his glass. “How come Mario and his girlfriend aren’t here?”

“A couple of reasons.” Colt motioned towards his own empty wineglass, and CJ complied with the silent request. “With the increased traffic expected at PRIME this weekend, and with Tony and Sean both away, we felt having a family member on the premises would be advisable. My brother-in-law’s one of the few people we trust implicitly.”

“I liked them when I met them back in December. Hopefully, I’ll see them this coming week. What’s the other reason?”

Colt steered them through the growing crowd of men in the house and around the pool until they ended up leaning against the wooden deck railing. The afternoon sun warmed CJ’s face. Inhaling the salt-tinged air, he swayed to the dance music coming through the sound system. Combined with the wine’s taste and the feel of rough lumber against his lower back, he delighted in the sensory overload. The view was not too shabby either. The foliage and structure framed a group of mostly young, fit, nearly-naked men enjoying themselves.

“Mario claims the moment you introduce a straight man into a gay crowd, the dynamics change. It’s even more pronounced if you add a female to the mix.” Colt scanned the crowd and nodded toward a new arrival wearing nothing but a skimpy bathing suit. Attire varied; it ranged from Speedos to the classic preppy look of polo shirt, khaki shorts, and deck shoes. He and CJ were both shirtless. “We kind of agree with him. Anyway, he’ll have plenty of chances to hang out here in the future.”

“How come?”

“Keep it quiet for now. Tony and I plan on a toast in a little bit to celebrate your anniversary, and we’ll make an announcement then. Our offer on this place was accepted last week. We’ll close soon, and be able to visit year-round.”

“Really? That’s lit. Congrats! Something like this must cost a fortune. I’ve never looked at how much these beach houses go for.”

“Not cheap, but we think it’s a good investment. We’re paying less than you and Ozzie did for your place in Washington.”

“Ugh! Don’t remind me. We get the house back at year’s end, and then we start remodeling. My cousins are heading up the effort. They already warned us to get our checkbook ready.”

“Do it right, and don’t skimp, CJ. If it’s going to be your forever home like you and Ozzie mentioned, it’s worth spending the money.”

“That’s our thinking. But you gotta remember I’m twenty-one and Ozzie’s twenty-six. We’re so young, sometimes I freak out thinking I might live in the same place for the next sixty years. We might change our minds.”

“As long as you don’t overspend if trying to flip the property you’ll be fine. When I worked in finance, I always preached a long-term approach. Same applies to real estate. If you decide to sell ten or fifteen years down the road, you’ll recoup your investment and then some.”

“Hope so. But we think this will be the place we call home for a very long, long time.”

“I’ve been meaning to ask you something. Going back to our conversation earlier today—”

“Which one?”

“The one about sport fucking and different types of relationships. Tony and I were talking about you and your husband. We know you’re solid, but wonder why you decided to tie the knot so young. No issues with the monogamy, but that’s also surprising. How come?”

A tiny smile played on CJ’s lips as he scanned the party searching for Owen. “There’s a lot to it, Colt. I grew up with a military stepfather. Dickhead wasn’t abusive, but he was strict. Frivolity wasn’t encouraged, and I think that helped me mature a bit faster.” CJ paused, trying to shake off the tinge of hatred that now and then surfaced when he thought about deceased Air Force Officer Richard Peterson. It was something he tried to suppress out of love for his brother; he did not like to trash Ritchie’s father.

“Anyway, I came out, moved to Washington, and for a while the people I interacted with the most were my dads’ friends. I was surrounded by a bunch of thirty-something gay men who treated me as an equal. That helped me grow up some more. I also got to see a bunch of different types of relationships. The dads set some rules, but for the most part, were rather permissive.” Memories of his first summer in DC flooded his mind.

“Lost my virginity at fifteen, screwed around with a few guys—some my dads heard about, some they didn’t—met Owen somewhere in there, and then he moved to the US. After a while, I realized I was happy just being with him.”

“Why get married so young?”

“Oh, there’s a couple of reasons for that too. One’s that it makes it easier for Ozzie to stay in the country. He’s married to a US citizen, and that helps him become one himself.” He paused again, trying to decide how much to reveal. “The other main one’s we both want kids. And we want them soon. Dad’s only twenty years older than I am. I think that’s helped our relationship develop to a point he’s not only my father but also one of my best friends. It might not have been that way if he was older. I want a similar connection with my kids. Don’t tell anyone, but we hope to have the first one by this time next year.”

By lunchtime Tuesday, the house stood empty. Everyone headed back to Manhattan after breakfast, but the partying was not finished.

“So y’all staying for a week?” Mathew Calhoun may have lived in Washington for years, but his Alabama roots were unmistakable thanks to his drawl. “Y’all better not be bringing back a ton of boys to party in the apartment. Your dads and I don’t need the neighbors complaining about sex noises.” Matt, César, and Brett jointly owned the Manhattan pied-à-terre CJ and Owen used more often than any of the other men did.

“Get a grip, Doc.” CJ transitioned from calling all his fathers’ friends uncle as he aged; his relationship with them evolved into one of friendship as equals. “You know us better than that.”

While CJ and Owen frolicked on Fire Island over the weekend, Dr. Calhoun and his partner, Dasan Ash Turner, arrived from DC to spend an extended weekend in New York. They were returning home the next day and invited the younger couple to dinner at Caffè dei Fiori. The Italian eatery—on Lexington Avenue a five minute walk away from the apartment—offered what some described as elevated food inside a three-story townhouse.

“He’s jealous and projecting.” Dasan was somewhat more subdued than the other Elite members, but once in a while came up with a winner. “Ever since he turned forty back in May, all he does is complain about getting old. I should leave him behind and have him go partying with you.”

“Nah, he’s right. He’s too old. You can stay, Dash. We’d love to go party with you.” CJ had a soft spot for the man from Tulsa, Oklahoma. He was the first HIV positive person he had met, had not been reticent when asked questions about how he had been infected and was candid about what it was like to live with the virus and the stigma still attached to it.

“I don’t think so. Although I disagree with Matt about the old part. Remember, I’ll be thirty-eight myself next month. My party days are behind me.”

“Your loss, mate. I don’t think either one of you’s old.” Owen removed his reading glasses after perusing the wine list; everyone at the table had pointed at him when the server brought it over. “We do plan on going out over the next few days, but there’ll be no craziness. Neither one of us enjoys hangovers.”

“Speaking of hanging over…” Dasan paused while his gaze shifted between CJ and Owen. “Before we left Washington, I had a call from the agent who brokered the rental of your house.” Dasan had helped coordinate a two-year lease with a German conglomerate, when he represented the couple during the purchase of a place in the Capitol Hill neighborhood in December 2017. “His client would like to renew for another year. Are you guys interested?”

The homeowners stared at each other, their mouths hanging open in surprise. “I…” CJ’s hesitation made Dash chuckle. “Damn! I—”

“Not interested.” Owen spoke with conviction; there was no hesitation in his reply. “We want it back.”

“You guys sure? I’m certain they’ll sweeten the offer if we pursue the matter.”

“Nope.” CJ shook his head. “Ozzie’s right. We’ve talked about it, discussed it with the cousins, and we’re ready to tackle the remodeling. It’s going to take time. Plus, with me graduating next May, we’d love to move in sometime in the summer. Hopefully, before I start my job.”

“How much work are you planning on? And how long do they think it’ll take? For real. This type of project tends to go over budget in both time and money.”

Conversation over the remainder of the evening revolved around the changes they planned for the 120-year-old property listed on the National Register of Historic Places.

On June 28, 1969, in and around the Stonewall Inn in Greenwich Village, New York, the struggle for equal rights by the GLBT community exploded. A New York City police raid on the bar ignited the fuse. In those days of archaic laws and hostile oppression, the reaction by bar patrons was atypical: they fought back. Their numbers, augmented by sympathetic neighborhood residents, fueled a riot leading to six days of demonstrations. Conflicts with law enforcement occurred outside the tavern, in nearby Christopher Park, and along neighboring streets. Attitudes and laws began to change that day.

On June 24, 2016, President Barack Obama signed a proclamation designating the area as a National Monument. The city transferred the small park’s title to the federal government, facilitating the creation of a National Park Service unit. The Stonewall Inn, Christopher Park, and portions of the surrounding neighborhood were labeled a National Historic Landmark for their association with the Stonewall Uprising. In his message, the president stated, “…the designation of a national monument at the site of the Stonewall Uprising would elevate its message and story to the national stage and ensure that future generations would learn about this turning point that sparked changes in cultural attitudes and national policy.”

On June 28, 2019, fifty years after the uprising, the world came together to rejoice in the momentous anniversary. The World Pride celebration returned to North America to mark Stonewall 50. The month of conferences, fashion shows, art exhibits, countless parties, and a multitude of smaller events culminated on Sunday with the annual parade. The laws had changed, acceptance continued to grow yet oppression remained. Pope John Paul II railed against the initial international celebration in Rome in 2000; Orthodox Jews did the same in Jerusalem in 2006. Religion continued to lead the hateful charge with homosexuality still a capital crime in Muslim nations. The GLBT community refused to buckle and hide in the shadows. The 2019 defiant celebration was proof.

“Mate, I can’t believe you talked me into this. The sun’s just coming up.” Owen sipped from his mug and adjusted the backpack’s straps over his shoulders. He was not a fan of early mornings.

“Stop bitching, Oz, You agreed to this days ago. It’s kind of cool to check out the Today Show from the outside instead of being in the studio.” CJ’s appearances on the NBC morning television show took place during the 2016 presidential race, and later during the promotion of Bullies Beware. Today, they planned to be at Rockefeller Plaza as part of the audience. The show had promised several segments dedicated to the World Pride/Stonewall 50 celebration, and CJ had suggested being outside with hundreds of other people would be a nice way to start their own day.

“Hey! I know you.” Leaning against the metal barricade containing the crowd, CJ was surprised when Savannah Guthrie spoke to him. “How are you, CJ?”

Weather permitting, the show’s hosts stepped outside the studio and mingled with fans several times throughout the broadcast. During a commercial break, the woman who had interviewed CJ in December approached him.

“Hello, Savannah. We’re doing great. Looking forward to the concert.” As part of their special programming for the day, singer Adam Lambert would be performing on the plaza.

The woman shifted her attention to the blonde standing behind him for a moment. “When you were here promoting your book you mentioned you were married. Is this your husband?”

“Oh, yeah. Sorry, I’m being rude. This is Owen Liston. Owen, you know who Savannah is.”

“Of course, mate. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Guthrie.”

“Oh, please, call me Savannah. Hey! I have an idea. Would you guys be willing to come inside, and chat with us on camera?”

Owen hesitated, but when he nodded his agreement, CJ followed suit. Savannah motioned for someone to join them; the assistant producer ushered the couple through the crowd and into the building. After discarding their ball caps, having their hair styled, and submitting to makeup application, CJ and Owen waited off-camera until invited to join the show’s personalities on the set. They were given an idea of the line of questioning they could expect, and neither had a problem with it.

“We’re joined by two unexpected guests this morning.” With little time to add their bio to the teleprompter, Hoda Kotb—the show’s co-anchor—referred to hastily scribbled notes in front of her. “CJ Abelló has been our guest before, and today he’s joined by his husband, Owen Liston. Welcome to the Today Show, guys.”

“G’day, Hoda. It’s a pleasure to be here.”

“Oh, I’m in love with your accent already.”

“One of the many reasons I fell for him.” CJ’s goofy smile elicited a groan from Owen.

“Thank you, Hoda. CJ’s being silly. He fell for me ’cause my family’s in the wine business.”

Kotb, known to sit at the anchor desk with a wineglass during the show’s fourth hour, was quick to retort. “I definitely want to spend time with you guys! I assume you’re in town for the Pride festivities. Why?”

“I’m a history buff, Hoda. I… We felt it was important to celebrate an event that’s impacted both our lives so much. The Stonewall Uprising started a movement we’re the beneficiaries of.” CJ’s words and smooth delivery held the reporters’ attention. “Marriage equality is one of the victories we rejoice in. The Supreme Court acknowledging our right to wed came as a result of years of work by countless individuals. But the drive for equal rights for the GLBT community isn’t over. There’s still inequality. These events should remind everyone the struggle’s not over.”

Savannah shifted her attention to Owen. “Your husband’s had his fifteen minutes in the spotlight and more.” Someone in the production team was a fast worker; an image of CJ on stage at the pre-election night rally in Philadelphia appeared on the wall of monitors behind them. “He was a passionate representative for Secretary Clinton during the 2016 presidential campaign.” An image of CJ pointing a gun at a man brandishing a baseball bat filled the screens, while descriptions began scrolling on the teleprompter.

“The following year, he was once again in the news when he saved the life of an elderly woman during the protests in Charlottesville. The picture of him holding a firearm went viral at the time. Something unexpected from someone many considered a liberal.” An image of Bullies Beware’s cover joined the previous ones on the split screen. “Last year, he again gained notoriety when he co-authored a book bemoaning bullying and encouraging victims to fight back. How do you feel about his activism?”

“I support him one thousand percent.” Owen’s reply came so fast it was evident it was not a composed, rehearsed comment. “Doesn’t mean I agree with all his positions. We’ve had more than one row over issues like gun control and the death penalty. But he’s always amazed me with how thoughtful he is when developing positions on controversial issues.”

“How come we haven’t seen you out in public as much as him?”

“What? Talking to you with millions of people watching isn’t public enough?” While the interviewers chuckled, CJ was surprised at how well Owen handled the questioning. “I’m a tad less flashy than my husband.”

“What Owen’s modesty fails to highlight”—CJ’s pride in his mate was unmistakable—“is he’s helping improve our world every single day. As an environmental attorney, he works to protect our natural wonders for us and for future generations. It’s an endeavor I wholeheartedly support.”

“What does the future hold for both of you?” Hoda discretely nodded towards a side monitor counting down the time remaining in the segment.

“I’ve worked with the Nature Conservancy all through college. This coming fall, I become a full-time staff member. My goal is to continue bringing together the public and private sectors. To forge alliances. To help find science-based solutions to the problems facing our environment. And to leave this world a little better than I entered it.”

“What about you, CJ?”

“Finishing school. This fall I’m entering my senior year at Georgetown University and getting ready for the real world’s my priority. I’ll continue to support causes I believe in, but not too much in public.” CJ paused for a moment while checking the remaining time. “If I could plug one of them… Heroes’ Haven is an organization working to support disabled veterans. A cause near and dear to my heart since my father’s a retired Marine Corps officer, and one of my best friends—a brother, really—returned home after a stint in the Army missing two legs. I encourage everyone to check their website, and show some love by supporting this wonderful group.”

“Thank you, gentlemen. We’ll get a link to Heroes’ Haven up on our website. We’ll be right back.”

Sometime later, as they made their way toward the Stonewall Inn, CJ received a text from Peter Davis. The founder and executive director of Heroes Haven let him know the appeal on national TV flooded their web page with inquiries, and donations were pouring in.

“Bloody hell, it sounds like a United Nations gathering.” The cacophony of myriad conversations in multiple languages assailed their ears as they neared the Stonewall Inn.

“I know, right? Listen to all those great accents.” The world had come to New York City once again. CJ grasped his husband’s arm when they reached the entrance to Christopher Park. “Let’s ask someone to take our picture in front of the sign.”

The throng thickened with each step taken toward the famous bar. “Forget it, CJ. We’ve had drinks in there before, and we’ll do it again. Not worth it today. May as well let the tourists have the opportunity.”

CJ thought it funny Owen did not consider the two of them tourists. With the amount of time they spent in New York City, the distinction was not inaccurate. “If Madonna makes another surprise appearance and performs, I’ll never forgive you.” The music icon had shocked bar patrons with an impromptu show on the last day of 2018. “How about ice cream instead?” Five minutes into a stroll that any other day took a total of two, they gave up. The waves of people lapping at the entrance of the Big Gay Ice Cream Shop down the street from the park made them realize it would take some time to reach; the sea of visitors and locals was not about to part for them.

“No way, mate. Give up on any of these places.” Owen pointed at the mobbed Starbuck’s. “Wanna try to get a couple of Cokes from one of the street vendors? I have my flask full of rum in the backpack.”

“Sounds like a plan.” CJ cajoled his way to a hotdog cart, bought two sodas, and guided Owen in the other direction toward the perimeter of the crowd clustered around the triangular park. “Check it out, Oz. Typical entrepreneurial New Yorker.” Someone had leaned a small ladder against the lamppost at the corner of Waverly Place; the hand-painted sign next to it offered the opportunity for people to climb, and have their picture taken by the brown sign for the intersecting road. CJ had taken a similar picture next to the marker for Gay Street during his first visit to New York.

Late in the afternoon, they returned to the Upper East Side apartment for a nap. Chipper and Ethan joined them for dinner; afterward, the four made their way down to Chelsea. Even though it was early, the line outside PRIME already threatened to turn the corner at Ninth Avenue and Nineteenth Street. “Shit! I don’t think the happy hour crowd ever left.” Ethan sounded surprised. “I’ve never seen this long a wait this early.”

“Be happy. It means your boyfriend’s raking in the bucks.” CJ clasped the man’s shoulder and propelled him towards the entrance. “Get ready for the hateful bitching.”

When the doorman waved them inside without checking identification or collecting the cover charge, CJ’s prediction came true. Those near the front complained about them. The club remained crowded the entire night, and by the time they caught a taxi, they were sweaty and tired. Saturday they woke up late, went for a jog and breakfast, and afterward lounged around the apartment.

For over thirty years, Dance on the Pier had been one of the jewels on the New York City Pride crown. In 2019, the event was held on Pier 97 at Hudson River Park in the heart of Hell’s Kitchen. Dancing with Owen and their other friends next to the flowing waters, CJ reveled in the bliss that came from being surrounded by so many other men indulging in everything that felt good.

The couple’s sobriety during the event put them in the minority. It was a last minute decision to abstain, brought on by the massive amounts of alcohol imbibed over the previous week. But it gave them the opportunity to view and recall the festivities without the intoxication haze most revelers would remember it through.

“OWEN! CATCH!” The Aussie turned his head in time to watch the spheroid fly at him. Catching the ball, he clutched it to his chest with a hand and extended the other arm to block imaginary tacklers.

“Damn, CJ. You’re not the only rock star in the family anymore.” Ethan’s forceful backslap made CJ stumble forward a few inches. The crowd was so thick further movement was impossible.

“Jerk! I almost bumped into the kids in front of us.” The two pre-teen boys turned and glared when called kids. Their mothers looked at the sky and rolled their eyes. “Sorry, guys.” CJ’s apology mollified the kids. “I’ve been telling everyone about Ozzie forever, Ethan. About time some of you boys realized he’s not some wallflower.” When the next ball came at him, CJ grabbed one of the youngsters’ arms and helped him catch it. Pointing at a player, CJ showed the boy how to throw it back underhanded.

“That was fun, mister. How do you know those guys?”

“Those are the Gotham Knights. My husband”—CJ thumbed at Owen standing behind him—“plays for the Scandals. That’s the team back home in Washington. We’ve met some of the New York players at tournaments.”

The group had gathered at Colt and Tony’s loft apartment, walked to Seventh Avenue, and claimed a spot a couple of blocks from the parade’s starting point. From the heart of Chelsea, it would meander down to Greenwich Village toward Christopher Street before turning north on Fifth Avenue and ending on the edge of the Hudson Yards neighborhood. CJ’s Love Trumps Hate t-shirt wasn’t unique. Owen’s rainbow-hued kangaroo one attracted plenty of stares.

“We’ll be back.” Mario Martellini, Tony’s younger brother, grasped Owen’s hand and pulled him alongside as he scurried forward. Curiosity made CJ and Mario’s girlfriend tag along. “I need your help. When we get a break in the crowd, I want you to call a couple of the players over. I want to take a picture showing off their uniform.” PRIME was a sponsor, and the bar’s name was prominently emblazoned on their shirts’ front.

The group of friends repositioned itself at the spot from where Mario selected to take pictures. The change in location brought a change in atmosphere; the air was redolent with the sweet smell of marijuana. “Do you miss smoking?” Owen asked when CJ inhaled lungfuls of air.

“Meh. A little. I know I’m going overboard abstaining. I’m sure the State Department would never find out if I did, but I don’t want to lie if I’m asked. What about you?”

“Not really. You know I’d rather have a glass of wine anyway. By the way, thank you.

“For what?”

“For New York City this time. As much as I always wanted to live in the US, I never imagined spending as much time here as we do. I love Washington, and that’s home, but there’s something about New York…” Owen’s tone bordered on reverence. “Who would have thought I’d know people in this parade. Every time we’re here, the city seems to unfold for us. Each layer peeled back reveals new secrets, new marvels, new opportunities.”

“Damn, Oz, you’re being poetic. I think DC can be the same, but there the emphasis is politics. We’re immersed in it all—“

“Fuck yeah!” Chipper’s outburst interrupted CJ’s rumination. “I gotta go, guys. My sister’s at the hospital. She’s in labor.”