Newport - Summer of '22 Book III - 3. Clams & Weed

Unsure of where his expectations came from—maybe an old movie or TV show—what they encountered when the shuttle dropped them off was far from what CJ envisioned. He had imagined a sandy beach, a bonfire, and coolers full of beer. Maybe a couple of Labradors or Golden Retrievers running around, chasing a ball or a Frisbee. He had not bothered to figure out the cooking part. Instead, they were confronted by a sanitized, upscale version of what his mind conjured.

While Owen went to the bar—a portable contraption manned by two young men who were, in all likelihood, also college students with a summer job like the boat captain—CJ stopped to chat with Paul, Molly, and Tess, her mother. “Hey, guys.”

“Oh, CJ, the man I wanted to see.” Tess took both of CJ’s hands in hers and stared into his eyes. “I am so, so sorry about Jay’s behavior last night. Knowing how he gets when he drinks too much, I asked him to stay away from the bar, but he ignored me. I apologize for what he said. I’m embarrassed beyond belief.”

CJ’s gentle smile coaxed a similar one from the woman. Tess had to be in her late fifties or early sixties but retained a youthful appearance. Her pleasant disposition and manners outshone any physical attributes, though. CJ thought Mr. Fanning was an idiot for risking his marriage to such a woman by drinking in excess.

“You did not do anything, Mrs. Fanning, so there’s nothing to apologize for or be embarrassed about. Molly warned me Mr. Fanning might try to argue with me, and I allowed it to happen. I didn’t want to appear rude, but I should have walked away. I regret being so forceful in what I said too. Maybe he wouldn’t have gotten so upset. I hope he’s okay.”

Tess dismissively waved a hand. “Bah! He had a tiny cut on his forehead and wailed like a little kid when the nurse cleaned it. I wish I had taken my phone out and recorded him.” She stopped, closed her eyes, and chuckled. “That would have been a hit on Facebook. Anyway, Molly told me she shared what I had told Jay; he has no one to blame but himself. And trust me, he’ll try to blame everyone else after I file for divorce and take him to the cleaners.”

“You did nothing wrong, bud.” Paul draped an arm over CJ’s shoulders.

“Please put it out of your mind and enjoy yourself.” Molly hugged CJ and kissed his cheek.

At that moment, Owen ambled back, carrying two glasses, and handed CJ one.

“What we drinking, Oz?” CJ raised his glass to the setting sun, twirled it, and marveled at how the pink liquid sparkled when the light hit it.

When done greeting the others, Owen grinned and looked at his phone. “I knew you’d ask. Les Sarrins Côtes de Provence Rosé 2021.”

While Tess moved to chat with other guests, the bride and groom remained. Molly grinned when Owen showed them the picture of the wine bottle’s label he was reading. “Do you do that often? Take pictures of what you drink?”

“All the time. I’ve seen them do it whenever we’ve ordered wine at restaurants.” Carson had joined them and raised a bottle of Sam Adams in greeting. “You do know they own a winery in Australia, right?”

“You’re such a tosser, Carson.” Owen returned his attention to Molly and Paul. “Paul knows this; he met my parents at our wedding. My family has vineyards in New South Wales, and we craft wines for Australia’s domestic market. CJ and I take pictures when we’re unfamiliar with wines we try and want to look for later.”

Paul tilted his head and cocked an eyebrow. “So, do you approve?”

“I do.” Owen took a sip and smiled. “I tasted it when the bartender poured. The aroma’s tart peaches, the palate’s light, and it finishes dry and crisp. Good summer companion to seafood.”

Paul wiped his brow. “Phew! I’m glad we passed, and you approve. I was worried.”

“Wanker!”

Clams were not the only thing on the menu. Along with the tiny mollusks, there was a tub full of squirming lobsters waiting to be dropped into boiling water. An enticing aroma wafted their way when a cook raised the giant grill’s lid and moved around what they were told were Portuguese chouriço and garlic bread loaves. They took a mug of chowder and a piece of garlic bread and went to sit at one of the picnic tables the wedding planner had set on the beach.

The one thing that matched CJ’s concept was the fire raging within a protective ring on the rocky beach. Once he drained the mug, CJ wiped his lips and tossed the linen napkin on the table. “I want clams, more bread, and some chouriço. Ready for round two?”

“Yeah.” Owen nodded and rose. “And I want more wine. It’s pretty darn good.”

Before they could return to the service line, Sam Parker, Paul’s father, rose from a folding camp chair next to the blaze and waved them over. “CJ, Owen, I’d like you to meet an old family friend. Carlos, the dark-haired one’s the one I was telling you about.” He smirked and pointed at CJ.

The man looked familiar, but CJ could not put a name to the face at first. When Sam said Carlos, recognition sparked. CJ extended his hand. “It’s a pleasure, Mr. Secretary. Oz, this is Secretary of the Navy Carlos del Toro. Mr. Secretary, my husband, Owen Liston.”

Born in Havana, del Toro and his parents immigrated to the United States when he was a child. Raised in Hell's Kitchen, he earned a degree in electrical engineering from the United States Naval Academy in Annapolis. After retiring from the Navy, del Toro started an engineering firm with the government as its primary client. In 2021, President Biden plucked him from the private sector to serve in his current position. CJ had read rumors he was involved in a bureaucratic battle with someone higher up the chain of command, which could lead to him losing his post by the end of the year.

“The pleasure’s mine, gentlemen.” The high-ranking former military man shook both their hands. “When Sam mentioned he wanted me to meet a fellow Cuban-American, I looked you up. Let’s say I’m impressed.”

Owen rolled his eyes. “Great, another CJ fan. You’ll have to forgive me, Mr. Secretary, but being married to him means I hear the same thing often.”

Secretary del Toro chuckled. “I may have looked him up, but your names were intrinsically linked in most of what I saw. I plan to finish my reading later tonight.”

Sam shrugged when CJ stared at him. “I copied what my son did; I sent Carlos a link to your Wikipedia page.”

“I know CJ’s father’s a retired Marine; it’s one of the reasons Sam wanted me to meet him. Is there a similar association with the military in your family?” Carlos directed the question at Owen.

“Not anyone living, Mr. Secretary. I didn’t have members of the military around me growin up, but I’ve made up for it since meeting CJ. My father-in-law’s a Marine, my brother-in-law’s a cadet at the Air Force Academy, and we have quite a few friends who’ve served.”

“CJ, I’ll go out on a limb and guess you were born in Miami.”

“Yes, sir.” CJ grinned. “That was a pretty safe bet. The majority of Cuban immigrants did end up there.”

“And plenty who initially settled elsewhere, like my parents, eventually retired to Miami. Have you ever been to Cuba?”

CJ’s face lit up. “No, but thanks to Owen, we’ll remedy that in a couple of months.”

Owen took pity on the confused-looking men and expanded on CJ’s cryptic response. “I work with the Nature Conservancy, Mr. Secretary. The Cuban government invited the organization to meet with them, and they, in turn, asked me to be part of their delegation.”

“Do you know why? Why was the Nature Conservancy invited to Cuba, and why were you asked to join the group?” Sam had not said much up to that point.

“My participation’s likely due to being fluent in Spanish and being married to someone with ties to the island.” Owen hip-bumped CJ. “Of course, he invited himself along when I told him. As for what the Cuban government wants? No idea right now. This came up on Monday, so I’ve not been briefed on mission details.”

“What about you, CJ? Will you be working with Owen?”

“Oh, hell no. I mean, if I have to attend a dinner or something, that’s fine. But I’m more interested in checking out the Old Havana architecture and day drinking.” When Sam and Carlos gave him questioning looks, CJ chuckled. “Gentlemen, one of my favorite authors’ Ernest Hemingway. And to emulate Papa, I plan on mojitos at la Bodeguita del Medio and daiquiris at El Floridita.”

Owen rolled his eyes while Sam and Carlos grinned.

“Yeah, well. It may have to be night drinking because I’m not missing out.” Owen made them laugh again.

Secretary del Toro asked about their time in Mexico and surprisingly delved into the type of relationship CJ developed with military personnel at the embassy. Sam Parker stood, holding a cocktail, interjecting a comment here and there. He nodded or grinned at the correct times but appeared more interested in appraising CJ’s remarks than participating in the conversation.

Considering the previous evening’s events, CJ craved anonymity. He limited his drinking, wanting to be sober in case someone else tried to get into a conversation. That sobriety proved helpful when Paul’s younger sister pulled her folding chair next to his and Owen’s once they sat to eat again.

“Hi. Next time one of my brothers gets you involved in something illicit, make sure I’m included. Stealing a sailboat was brilliant. You should have seen the wedding planner’s staff go crazy when you did.” The woman turned her smile to Owen. “What would you have done if they had called your bluff at the school when you said you’d buy the boat CJ stole?”

“Hey! I didn’t steal anything! And if I borrowed something, I didn’t do it alone.”

“And what the heck do you mean bluff?” Owen’s grin ruined his attempt at sounding surly.

Jennifer Parker was younger than her siblings, in college, and according to her brother, Paul, quite opinionated. Athletic, pretty, with bright eyes, brown hair cascading down her back, and a dazzling smile, CJ suspected she had guys chasing after her constantly.

“Pulling the card out was a stunt, wasn’t it?”

“Nope. I would have bought it and asked them to deliver it to us in Washington.” Owen’s grin grew, and he winked at her. “And then I would have rushed home to find a spot at a marina.”

Jennifer cracked up. “You guys are a riot. I’m gonna have to visit Dave and Steph when they move so I can see you. In my book, anyone who trashes Republicans like CJ did last night is okay. I love Molly, and I’m glad she’s joining the family, but her dad’s a jerk.”

“Wow!” CJ was confused. “I’m surprised you dislike conservatives. I assumed everyone in your family was one.”

“Hell, no! Not me. I registered as a fellow Democrat as soon as I was old enough.”

“That’s interesting, Jen.” CJ tried not to sound condescending. “But you made a mistake assuming I’m a Democrat.”

She looked confused. “You aren’t?”

“Nope. I’m a Green.”

The smile returned to the young woman’s face. “Oh, that’s cool. Greenies are okay. That means you support AOC and the Green New Deal.” AOC was the nickname for Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez, the U.S. Representative for New York's 14th Congressional District.

Owen shook his head and sighed. “Bloody hell, here we go again. Careful, CJ.”

“You’re wrong again, Jen. I’m married to an environmentalist, and I do support much of what she does. On the Green New Deal, we disagree. I’m fine with parts of it, but timing and cost bother me. I’d prefer staggered implementation once we figure out how to pay for everything.”

Jennifer waved a hand dismissively. “Bah! By raising taxes on corporations and the rich, of course.”

“You mean rich like your family?” CJ nodded in Sam Parker’s direction. Jennifer’s father and brothers stood close by, listening while smirking. Paul winked and nodded rapidly, encouraging CJ to continue.

“Of course! There’s no need for anyone, including my parents, to make as much money as they do. People like them, like the owners of Facebook and Amazon—“

“Careful, Sis.” Paul took a couple of steps closer. “I know for a fact CJ and Jeff Bezos are friends.”

Jennifer glanced back and forth between her brother and CJ. “Is he right?”

“Yeah… Sorta…” CJ shrugged. “He introduced himself when I did a reading of my book at an Amazon bookstore in Washington years ago, offered me a job when I graduated from Georgetown, and stepped to the plate when Ozzie and I started a project in Mexico.”

“Fuck!” Jennifer covered her mouth momentarily and glanced at her parents, talking to other guests. Sam Parker seemed to be paying more attention to her than to his wife or friends. “Sorry. I mean, I thought you’d be different, but it sounds like you’ve been brainwashed into joining the patriarchy. Bezos and Musk are much too interested in wasting money on space tourism when they should be using their wealth to help people.”

CJ was not the only one to crack up. “The patriarchy, eh? I’ll add Branson to the men you alluded to. My first problem with your comment’s you want to tell people how to spend their money. Sounds a tad Marxist to me. I’m not interested in going to space, even though Bezos offered me a spot on a future flight if I want it, but I’m not about to deny anyone the opportunity to go.”

“See? It’s all about the rich spending their money on themselves and their friends.”

“You’re quite wrong, kiddo. The space program in the sixties brought countless advances. The entire world benefited from the race between the Soviets and the Americans. I foresee the same thing happening with the current efforts. Yet, you want to deny all of us the potential life improvements a space race between billionaires could bring.” CJ paused to sip his wine.

“And I’ll have you know, as far as Bezos’ concerned, he does give money away. While living in Mexico City, Owen and I started a program to teach kids about technology. Jeff matched the amount my family pledged, and Amazon contributed ten times what he gave.”

“Probably because it would give him positive publicity.”

“And what’s wrong with that? First, you complain they don’t give money to good causes, and then you complain about their motives when they do. Why? What do you care what their reasons are? Would you prefer they don’t support charitable causes at all?”

The barrage of counter-opinions and questions was delivered calmly, but Jennifer was visibly agitated. CJ suspected she was not often challenged with rational arguments.

“So, going back to raising taxes, how much would it be okay?”

“I don’t know. Whatever it takes.” She did not sound as self-assured as before. “Like, there’s no need for people to have incomes as high as some of them do. We have needs in this country, and the rich should help everyone who’s not as lucky as them.”

Jennifer did not sound stupid, but she personified many young people's single-minded approach to issues. Hell, he had done it himself. CJ looked forward to interacting with her in the future when she visited her brother. “We’ll come back to tax rates. Are you suggesting the government should limit the amount of money people can make?”

“Definitely. Once someone makes like over a million dollars a year, they don’t need any more.”

“Hmmm… So you believe in the adage of ‘from each according to their ability and to each according to their needs?’ Didn’t Karl Marx say that in his ‘Critique of the Gotha Programme?’ It’s been a while since I read it for school. The Soviet Union and a few other countries tried that approach and failed. Miserably. It brought additional pain and suffering to the common man.” CJ noticed Sam’s grin become a smile. “And I object on personal grounds. Between our salaries and our investment income, Ozzie and I would be in trouble.”

He raised a hand when Jennifer tried to reply. “Hang on a minute. Let me ask you something else. How much of what I make a year should go to the government? Fifty percent? Seventy-five? Or maybe ninety? Why would I continue to work if what I make’s gonna be taken away?

“And why would anyone with a good idea or product bother to grow their business? Should we blame Bezos for innovating how people shop and creating a company the public embraces? Or Musk for spearheading electric car development even though I think he’s an ass? And what would happen to charitable organizations who depend on our donations to provide assistance to others?”

“The government would take over whatever services they provide.”

“So, your answer’s higher taxes and more government?” CJ took a deep breath, shot Sam a questioning look, and smiled when Jenniffer’s father nodded.

“I think you’re smart and have good intentions. You’re welcome at out home whenever you visit your brother in D.C. But you’re as naïve as I was when I was younger. Let’s revisit this conversation in a few years after you’ve lived in the real world for a while. We can do it over dinner at our house.” CJ glanced at Owen and saw his nod of agreement. “My parents taught me I should never be ashamed of our family’s wealth, but they stressed that wealth carried responsibilities. As much as I believe in government, I’d like to restrict their intrusion into our lives. Let me decide which charities I want to support.

“I’m a capitalist, Jennifer. We live in a capitalist society, and I don’t see that changing in my lifetime. Not sure I’d want to see it change anyway. Some believe in accumulating wealth for its own sake; I don’t. I will always look out for others. But let it be my decision. I don’t want the Politburo dictating how to live my life.”

The applause from the Parker men and a few other guests came as a surprise.

After being dropped off in front of their hotel, CJ realized he was not sleepy. Digging into his hoodie’s pocket, he brought out a joint he waved in Owen’s face. “Wanna go out on the Walk and smoke it with me.”

“A doobie?” Surprise tinged Owen’s grin. “How’d you manage to get your hands on that?”

“You know when I went to pee? Both porta-potties were in use, so I walked around the back. The smell of weed alerted me even before I literally ran into one of the bartenders. The ginger. The kid had his dick out pissing, and I surprised the shit out of him.” CJ smirked. “Nice pale one.”

Owen wound up fanning the air above his husband’s head when CJ ducked. “And what exactly did you do to have him hand over his smoke?”

“I didn’t blow him, Oz. This isn’t the one he was smoking, anyway. I told him he had a nice dick, pointed at what he was smoking, told him I was more interested in that, and asked if he had another one he’d be willing to sell. Ten bucks later, I walked away with the joint and his lighter.”

Owen cracked up. “Let’s go, but we’ll have to find a dark spot in case others decide on a nighttime stroll.”

On the Cliff Walk, CJ and Owen moved away from The Chanler’s glow. They found a spot from where one could look east, see lights reflecting on the water, but was sufficiently dark to provide cover otherwise. CJ pulled the joint from behind his ear and sparked it. After a deep inhale, he turned to Owen, brought their lips together, and shotgunned the smoke into his mouth. Both coughed, then chuckled. “We’re out of practice.”

Taking it from CJ, Owen toked a couple of times on his own.

After a second hit, CJ brought up what had been on his mind for a bit. “Oz, what did you think of Secretary del Toro’s questions?”

“I don’t know.” Owen shrugged. “He seemed awfully interested in your interactions with the embassy’s military personnel.”

“The entire conversation was weird as shit. It felt as if I was being scrutinized and evaluated. I have a feeling something’s going on, but I have no idea what. And then he was surprised we were going to Cuba. Why? There might be something going on.”

Owen’s loud sigh might have been the reason for two seagulls taking to the air, squawking. “I hate to say this, and I’ll probably regret it, but we need to talk to Spike. Tosser probably decided to wait until we came to him before revisiting the issue.”

CJ nodded and chuckled. “Yeah… too many coincidences. Let’s agree to meet once we’re back home.”