Travels - 10. Livin' in the Future

Monday, 4 August 2014

Dark, rain-laden clouds blanketed the horizon as CJ steered the large BMW sedan west on Tamiami Trail towards the Miccosukee Tribe Village thirty minutes west of downtown Miami. He wasn’t paying close attention to the conversation between Owen―sitting beside him in the front―and Ritchie. The Aussie had twisted his body around, looking at CJ’s brother in the back while they talked. The boy said something about a girlfriend which made his older sibling react.

“You have a girlfriend?” CJ was somewhat surprised. Ritchie hadn’t mentioned a girl the previous day when they’d hung out at Aba’s house.

“Nooo… I was telling Owen Dad’s bugging me about having one. You know, when you moved I had no idea why you were leaving. Then I found out you were gay and Dad didn’t want you around me all the time. So I spent a lot of time on the computer reading anything I could about being gay.”

“What’d you find out, mate?” His lips curling up slightly, Owen sounded interested and amused by the boy’s comment.

“Oh, that gay people are just like anyone else and can do anything they want. I also checked out some gay porn and decided I’m not interested.”

“What? You checked out gay porn?” CJ’s gulp was audible for all he knew. He experienced a twinge of worry at his brother’s admission. Visions of his asshole stepfather ranting made him shudder, fearing the worst. “What if your father found out?”

“Don’t be silly, CJ. I’m not stupid. I erased the browsing history every time. And then went to a straight porn site and left it open so Dad could see it. The iPad you bought me as a present was great since everyone at school had to get one this year. Dad looks at it now and then to check on homework assignments, so I knew he’d see anything I left open. I had to give the ’rents my passwords for anything I do online anyway.”

The comment caused CJ and Owen to chuckle. CJ was impressed with his brother’s ingenuity and deviousness. “Did he catch it?” Owen asked.

“Hell yeah! A couple of days later he took me out for ice cream and started giving me the talk about the birds and the bees but using men and women instead of insects. It was so embarrassing. He was trying to use big words. He kept saying penis instead of dick, or vagina instead of pussy. I just wanted to get it over with. So I told him I knew a lot from school and talking to friends. After, everything was cool until I went to Washington.”

“Did he give you a hard time about that?” CJ was alert, his fury at Lieutenant Colonel Richard Peterson threatening to surface once again. “Because if he did I’m going to―”

“Relax, bro. All he did was ask me a million questions. He wanted to know where I’d slept, what I’d done, and if either one of your dads touched me in any way.”

“Asshole!” CJ shook his head in disbelief. His stepfather was truly an ass.

“Don’t worry about it, CJ. I didn’t mind. Plus, when I told him I’d found a few hairs growing around my dick, he got all excited and forgot about Washington. That’s when he started asking me about girlfriends.”

“What you tell him, bro?”

“That I don’t get to meet girls at school since it’s all boys there, but that I liked the sister of one of my friends. Another time I told him once I was allowed to go to house parties and other stuff maybe I would meet more girls. That was a smart move for me.” Ritchie giggled like the kid he was. “Afterwards, anytime I asked to go anywhere I’d mention there would be girls there, and he’d be fine. Why do you think I get to spend so much time at the mall or my friends’ houses?”

“You gamed your own father?” Owen's question made both brothers chuckle.

“Hell yeah! Keeps him off my back, and he barely complained about me spending time with you guys this week.”

“That’s my bro,” CJ said, proud of the kid. “But if he ever gets out of hand, you call Aba and ask her to get in touch with me. If she can’t handle your dad, I will.” The fear he’d experienced when Rich banned him from his home was long gone; he felt nothing but contempt for the man. His confidence had been buoyed by a year living with César and Brett, by his interactions with his fathers’ friends, and by everything he’d experienced since moving north.

Fat rain drops splattered the windshield when they’d left Aba’s house after picking up Ritchie, but by the time they reached their destination, the sun peeked out from behind the clouds. Exiting the car, warm, steamy air enveloped them. Perspiration quickly soaked through CJ’s t-shirt, and he wanted to slip it off and jump in the canal bordering the road. The presence of alligators in the water dissuaded him from further thoughts along that line. “I’m ready to go back and jump in the pool. I complain about the humidity back home in Washington all the time, but I’d forgotten what it’s like here. Especially in the middle of the Everglades.”

“You can always go naked…” Ritchie suggested, giggling.

“Right. And have an alligator bite my nuts off? No thanks. Come on. Once we’re on the boat and moving, we’ll at least have a breeze.”

After they’d bought their tickets for the ride, the three wandered around looking at the Indian Village and the native crafts for sale. “So, are these people like the Indians in the movies? You know, the ones riding horses against the cowboys?” Owen flinched as the animal in the alligator wrestling demonstration they were watching snapped his jaws shut.

“Nah,” CJ replied. “Most of that’s just Hollywood crap.”

“We studied the Miccosukee in history class last year,” Ritchie added. “They were from Georgia and then moved to Florida. In like, the 50s they split off from the Seminoles and created their own tribe because they were willing to take on white man traditions, but the Miccosukee wanted to retain their own.”

“But in the end, they followed the other Indians,” CJ said. “They make money off gambling―the big resort we passed on the way here is their main source of income. Let’s go, guys. Time for our ride.”

“Have you been on one of these before?” Owen climbed into the airboat, moving to the end of the bench seat.

“I haven’t,” Ritchie replied.

“Once before,” CJ added. “It was while I was still living in Miami. During one of my dad’s visits over Christmas. He and Papa wanted to do something different so we came out here. I think you’re gonna like it.”

“I’m sure I will.” The Aussie stuffed the cotton balls their guide passed out in his ears.

“Owen’s a big-time tree hugger.” CJ reached up and affectionately messed up Owen’s hair while looking at his brother. He liked the fact there was no reaction to the PDA. “The Everglades are perfect for him. He’s going to study environmental law at George Mason University this fall.”

“Yee-haw!” Ritchie screamed as the gargantuan propeller blades in the back of the flat-bottom vessel began spinning and the watercraft slid over the shallow waters. After traveling a few hundred feet down the canal at a slow, steady pace, the driver turned into an open area and picked up speed. The passengers cheered when the boat slipped sideways and plunged into the River of Grass.

During the tour, their guide frequently powered down so he could be heard above the roar of the aircraft engine powering the fan blades, while he talked about the history and value of the wetlands. He acknowledged Marjorie Stoneman Douglas’ book, The River of Grass, as helping mobilize interest in the wetlands which eventually led to the creation of Everglades National Park.

The slow-moving sheet of water, he explained, began around Orlando. The Kissimmee River flowed into shallow Lake Okeechobee, which discharged excess water towards the south, eventually emptying into Florida Bay. Over the years, men had constructed a network of canals that drained portions of the land for agricultural and urbanization purposes. Recently, propelled by a growing awareness of the importance of the ecosystem to life in South Florida, efforts had begun to recreate some of the natural flow of water.

Everglades National Park comprised a portion of the original marshlands which support a diverse fauna and flora, including threatened and endangered species. A World Heritage Site and Biosphere Reserve, it is the largest continuous stand of sawgrass prairie in North America and the largest mangrove ecosystem in the western hemisphere.

“That rocked. Thanks for bringing me, CJ,” Ritchie said after they’d returned to the dock.

“Yeah, thanks, CJ,” Owen added. “It was pretty cool to go on an educational thrill ride. I hope I get to come back and do some serious exploring.”

“My pleasure, guys. That was a blast. Maybe we can return when it’s cooler and go camping. I’ve never done that before but it could be fun.”

Wednesday, 6 August 2014

César and Brett had brought their clubs with them and on Wednesday morning they left the hotel early to meet two EY partners for a round of golf at Granada Country Club. They planned on spending most of the day out. CJ and Owen had breakfast at the Biltmore then walked to the Abelló house where they found Sebastián collecting mangos and avocados from the trees in the backyard.

“Morning, Abuelo, what're you doing?”

“What does it look like I’m doing? Morning, guys. My boss gave me orders and I’m following them.”

“Your boss?” Owen sounded confused as he plucked a bright green piece of fruit CJ’s grandfather was having trouble reaching.

“Yeah, the wife. Rosario took a course in Caribbean Fusion cooking early this year and since then she’s been trying out new stuff. She wants to make avocado soup and mango salsa to go with the salmon we’re grilling tonight.”

“Yummm!” CJ said, rubbing his stomach. “I can’t wait to try the soup, it sounds delicious. So, are we taking Owen to Little Havana for lunch and a tour or what?”

“That’s the plan. Go in and say hello to your grandmother, I’ll be there in a minute.”

They found Rosario in the kitchen, chopping onions which she explained were for the mango salsa. Fresh mangos, onions, tomatoes, cilantro, and a Habanero pepper for heat were all mixed with lime juice and sprinkled with salt. She wanted to get it done early so it could sit in the refrigerator all day allowing the flavors to blend.

“That sounds awesome, Abuela. I want the recipe before we leave. How long will it keep?”

“At least a week, they taught us the lime juice acts as a preservative. If there’s any left tonight, I’ll put it in a jar for you to take back. I’m guessing you don’t have tropical fruit trees in your backyard like we do.”

“Sick!”

“What’s wrong? You’re not feeling well?” The worried-looking grandmother dropped the knife, dried her hands on her apron, and reached for CJ’s forehead. “Maybe you should stay in today? I have some nice chicken soup you can have for lunch.”

Owen smiled and you could see he was trying not to laugh out loud. CJ had no issues with laughing at his grandmother and did so. “No, Abuela. I meant it would be good to take some of your salsa back to Washington. Sick means good.”

“Then why don’t you say so? I thought you were coming down with something. I don’t understand you kids.”

“Is this the area where most Cubans live?” Owen was looking at the window display of the store they’d parked in front of―all the signs on it were in Spanish.

“Not anymore, Owen. It’s now a mix of all Latin American nationalities,” Sebastián replied. “In the early sixties, after Castro took over the island, the initial exile community did settle in this neighborhood. But as with many other immigrant groups, affluence led many to move out to the suburbs. Each time a government in Central or South America hiccupped, new political refugees arrived and took the place of those who’d climbed out of poverty.”

“Did you live here, Abuelo?”

“We did. For about three months. Then a friend of my father’s came to see us and convinced me Puerto Rico would be an ideal place to settle. There would be no language barriers and the opportunities were much better. You have to realize back then this city was a sleepy southern town, instead of the cosmopolitan community it now is. Miami Beach was a hot vacation spot, but few tourists ventured across the causeway into Miami.”

“So that’s why César was born there. In Puerto Rico, I mean. He mentioned it to me before.” Owen’s head might as well have been on a turntable, he kept swiveling every few moments to look at the unfamiliar sights.

“And my other son was too. I guess you haven’t met Rico yet, but you will. We’ll all be in Washington for Thanksgiving.”

“Speaking of Uncle Rico, I’ve talked to him a lot when I was in Chicago and he told me some stuff about growing up here in Miami and what Dad was like.” CJ looked at his grandfather for a second before continuing; he was trying to figure out how to ask the questions in his mind. “He said you had a lot of problems when he came out and that Dad almost flunked out of the University of Florida. Is that true?”

Sebastian stared at his grandson for a moment. “Let’s stop at the ventana and get a cortadito,”

“What’s a ventana and what’s a cortadito?” Owen had already mentioned to CJ he wanted to take a Spanish class when they got to Washington. Although most of the conversations were in English, Spanish seemed to be the preferred tongue for certain words and expressions. CJ had told him Spanglish was common with the younger generations who’d grown up speaking both languages.

“Gringo, you’re gonna have to learn some Spanish―”

“He’s not a gringo, Abuelo. He’s an Aussie. And he already told me he wants to learn.”

“¡Misma mierda! Ventana means window.”

“Misma mierda means same shit.” CJ chuckled when both his grandfather and Owen shook their heads. He didn’t think it was for the same reason.

“Okay, I noticed people standing in front of a couple of these already while we were driving. Do all restaurants have them?”

“Around here they do.” CJ pointed at two other eateries across the street. “It’s a great way to get a snack or something to drink without having to actually go inside.”

“And a cortadito?”

“That’s an espresso with a shot of steamed milk,” CJ explained. “Which is different from a café con leche. That’s a bunch of steamed milk with a shot of coffee.”

Owen stood to the side as CJ’s grandfather ordered from the woman behind the window in rapid-fire Spanish. When he was given a small, steaming Styrofoam cup, he sipped carefully and grimaced after having a taste. “Bloody hell, that’s bitter.”

“Don’t be such a baby.” CJ chuckled as he pushed a container towards his friend. “Here’s some sugar for you. Do you want a cigar? We’re walking over to Domino Park to watch the old Cuban men play. You’ll fit right in.”

“I don’t think so, mate. No way can I fit in with my blond hair. And forget it if I open my mouth. I guess by the looks I’ve been getting they can tell I’m not a local. My accent’s a bit different. And I don’t smoke, anyway.”

“So, Abuelo, what happened when dad told you he was gay?”

Sebastián stared up at the sky momentarily before closing his eyes and shaking his head. “I screwed up. I screamed at him telling him no son of mine could be a maricón. Those were other people’s sons. Those were the people we made fun of. I mean, it wasn’t anything violent, but the gay jokes were a staple amongst my friends. Not one of my best moments.”

“So what did Dad do when you said your son couldn’t be a fag?”

“Ugh, that word makes me cringe these days. In both languages. Anyway, your father called me every nasty name he could think of. He claimed I was a bigoted, homophobic ass, and a poor excuse for a father. Then he said I either accepted him or he was moving out. He had a scholarship and savings so he didn’t need me.”

“I guess he didn’t move out,” Owen said.

“No. Rico and Rosario ripped into me after he’d stormed out. Once we heard his car pull away, your grandmother and your uncle went at me. It took me a little time to calm down. Your father stayed away for a week, he called his mother every day to let her know which friend he was spending the night at but refused to come home until I apologized.”

“I’m guessing you did?” CJ asked, smirking.

“Yeah, I did.” The old man lowered his head in shame. “But only after Rosario threatened to throw me out and divorce me. It’s hard to undo a lifetime of conditioning by family, friends, and faith. Your uncle pointed out he and his brother were highly intelligent and that was no fluke. He said if the kids were smart, it was genetic and the parents had to be smart also. And if I was smart, I could forget about what I’d been taught when faced with facts proving all that wrong. So I swallowed my pride. Next time César called I took the phone, apologized, and asked him to come home. It took me some time to get used to the idea my son was having sex with other men. But eventually I came around.”

“What changed your mind?” Owen bit into the flaky pastry stuffed with gooey paste the older man had ordered for him. “Damn! This is good. I love the filling.”

“Somebody’s sweet tooth is showing,” CJ mocked. “What happened you changed your mind, Abuelo?”

“Mostly your uncle and your grandmother is what happened. They lectured me incessantly. It was a daily barrage. But the final argument was from my best friend. I complained to him, saying maybe César needed to see a psychiatrist. He replied maybe I should see one instead. César seemed to be fine with his sexual orientation, and it was me who needed help accepting it.”

“Smart man, your friend. I’m glad it turned out well. I guess when Randy came out and then me it wasn’t a shock.”

“Nope, by then I’d met a few of your dad’s boyfriends and became more comfortable. When Randy made his big announcement, I was much better informed. With you, I didn’t even blink.” The older man smiled at his grandson, affectionately ruffling his hair.

“What happened at UF? Uncle Rico said dad had problems there?”

“Your father came home at Christmas, after his first semester in Gainesville, and he was fat! The boy had stopped exercising and had obviously been eating everything in sight. Turned out he was not doing well in his classes either. When his grades arrived, I was ready to fight again. He admitted he wasn’t happy and spent most of his time drinking, smoking pot, and partying.”

“He didn’t do those things before?”

“I think he went overboard once he left Miami. I admit I kept a tight grip on both boys while they lived at home and maybe he just needed to experience some freedom.”

CJ leaned against the wall and watched the constant traffic of people stopping for a coffee, a soda, or a snack. He found the mixture of accents exhilarating. The mostly working-class crowd was made up of people from all different countries. Quite different from the well-appointed, Anglo crowd he encountered around Georgetown. “That’s probably why Dad’s so easy with me. I mean, he trusts me and he and Papa let me do whatever I want as long as I follow some basic rules.”

“Yeah, could be. Hell, I would have never let either one of the kids travel anywhere alone like you do. Particularly as far away as Australia.”

“I’m glad you’re not in charge of me!” CJ placed a hand on his grandfather’s shoulder and gave him a small shake.

“Watch it! I can still spank you if you get too cocky. To finish up, your uncle spent a lot of time with your father during that vacation. César went back to school with a new attitude, I guess. His grades were exceptional afterward, even though he admitted he still drank and smoked marijuana, just not as often.”

“Rosario, this is fantastic. I love the chilled soup.” Owen's praise came immediately after the first spoonful of the avocado potage.

“It is, Abuela,” CJ agreed. “It’s perfect for when it’s too warm outside for hot soups. What all’s in it?”

“Thank you, boys, I’m glad you like it. I start out with minced garlic sautéed in a little olive oil. Just enough to release the flavor, it should be a little golden but not brown. After it cools, I take medium-ripe avocados and put both things in the blender. While it’s running, I add low-fat plain yogurt, lime juice, and spices then slowly mix in vegetable stock. I try to make it in advance, the same way I did the mango salsa, so the flavors will mix real well while it’s in the refrigerator.”

“This sounds like the kind of meal I would love to make. Soup and salsa ahead of time, nuke some veggies, and grill the salmon steak. Hell, it’d take no time at all. Cutting up all the ingredients for the make-ahead stuff’s what takes effort. Is there curry in this?” CJ used a finger to wipe the bottom of the bowl after finishing the soup and licked it, loving the mixture of flavors.

“Yes, there is. I’ll write down the recipe for you. I add salt, ground cumin, and curry powder. The last part is the teaspoonful of balsamic vinegar and chopped cilantro I floated on top of each bowl.”

“I also want the recipe for the salsa. I may not be able to pick the fruit from trees in our backyard, but there’s a great market near us I can get all the ingredients at. I’m going to be cooking a lot once I get back home. I’ll have the time and I’ve been out of town so much I’m tired of eating at restaurants.”

Friday, 8 August 2014

“Hey, Dad, have I told you lately how much I love you?” CJ spoke as he rummaged through the contents of his Carnivores Tour 2014 rucksack. It was part of the perks included with the Deluxe Package concert tickets.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah…” César smirked and dismissively waved his hand at CJ. “You say that now because of the primo tickets I scored. You hear the kind of bullshit I have to deal with all the time, Owen?”

“I don’t know, I think he’s being honest. Actually, I’m starting to love you and the Captain just as much as your son does.”

“Damn, Jarhead, we’re in trouble. Two bullshit artists at the same time. Not sure I’m ready for this.”

“Will it help if I say I love you too?” Brett asked in a syrupy tone. “Food or drinks anyone?”

“Yeah, Papa, a pretzel and a coke for me. I’m hitting the merchandise tent.”

“Yes, sir. A pint would be nice. If you and César don’t mind, I’ll stick with CJ.”

“Sure thing, but if you don’t stop calling me sir and shit like that I’ll be tossing your ass out the plane window when we head back home tomorrow.”

“Come on, Jarhead, let’s get the eats and drinks while the children shop,” César said with a big smile on his face. “I’m certain there’s a t-shirt or two about to be added to the collection.”

“Damn right!” CJ pushed Owen away from his parents towards the open-sided white tent in the center of the courtyard.

César had obtained four seats for the concert from one of his fellow partners at EY and CJ had been even more excited than his father could have imagined. He and Brett had admitted they had no idea who the hell AFI―the opening act―was. Linkin Park they were aware of, but not fans. Their knowledge of 30 Seconds to Mars was a bit better. They became aware of the group founded and led by Jared Leto after he’d won the Academy Award for Best Supporting Actor―and countless other recognitions―for his portrayal of Rayon, an HIV-positive transgendered woman in Dallas Buyers Club.

Cruzan Amphitheatre in West Palm Beach was a hybrid venue with a covered stage and seating area, and grassy space behind the seats which CJ thought more than doubled its capacity. Their seats were right in the middle of the arena, a dozen rows behind the mosh pit in front of the stage. The breeze blowing through the open sides was so light it barely made a difference on the muggy August Friday night. Rain showers were in the forecast but the threat didn’t diminish the enthusiasm of the crowd in the seats, or on the lawn underneath the overcast sky.

Once they claimed their spots, CJ explained AFI was a rock band out of California which had been around for a long time. Their alternative rock―with some punk, emo, and goth sounds thrown in―had the four men tapping their feet and nodding to the beat. After the band had left the stage they agreed the music was okay but nothing spectacular.

“I wonder why the two rows in front of us are empty?” CJ asked while roadies moved equipment around the stage, setting up for the next band.

“Take a look at the side of the stage,” the guy sitting directly behind him said after tapping CJ on the shoulder. “Those empty seats belong to them.”

CJ turned around to look at the man and came face to face with a smiling, rotund, bearded guy. He guessed the guy was around his dad’s age but didn’t take as good care of himself. Maybe this is what César would have looked like if he’d continued the way he’d started when he went away to college. “How come they get to be on stage?”

“They paid extra.” The response was accompanied by a chuckle. It seemed to CJ the guy thought it was obvious why some people had special access. Money could get you almost anything you wanted.

“Yeah, I guess that’s the way things go. Thanks for explaining it to me.”

“No problem. Hey, here you go. You and your boyfriend seem cool,” the man said, nodding towards Owen. “Enjoy.”

“Ummm, thanks, but he’s not my boyfriend.” CJ looked at the man’s hand which held a homemade cigarette on it. He smiled and looked at Brett who shrugged his shoulders. That was tacit approval as far as his son was concerned. With his dads next to him, his qualms about accepting something from a stranger seemed to disappear. “Do you have a lighter I could borrow?”

César rolled his eyes, Brett smiled, and Owen looked back and forth between the three of them as CJ stuck the joint in his mouth and lit it. Once he’d taken a couple of small puffs, he held it out in front of himself, offering it to his companions. The marine was quick to snatch it from his son and bring it to his lips. “Damn, it’s been a long time. I think I’m going to like being separated from active duty more than I originally thought. César?” Brett held out the doobie, offering it to his husband.

“Nope. Not me. One of us has to be the responsible adult and drive all the way back to Miami tonight. It’s obviously not gonna be you. Who was that man, anyway?” He asked after noticing the stranger had left the seat behind them and moved towards the mosh pit in front.

“The pot fairy!” CJ’s suggestion made Brett and Owen chuckle, César groaned and once again rolled his eyes.

Jared Leto hit the stage to ear-splitting cheers and clapping, some fans waving signs and flags with the band's idiosyncratic iconography. Most of the symbols derived from tattoos on the actor/singer’s body. In a purple robe and golden crown, his long hair whipped about with every turn of his head. The fog enveloping him as he approached the microphone wearing dark sunglasses made him look more like a religious figure than a rock and roller.

The distinctive and hypnotic opening bars of “Birth” brought the few members of the audience still sitting to their feet, their roar momentarily drowning out the music coming from the gigantic speakers mounted around the stage. CJ was jumping in place, pumping his arm in the air, shouting at the top of his lungs much to the amusement of his fathers who looked at him smiling and shaking their heads. By the time the band started on the third song in their set, Leto had discarded his robe, handed his guitar to a roadie, and removed the microphone from its stand. Wearing a white shirt with deep cuts down the sides, the artist’s tightly muscled but lean body was visible, and CJ turned to his fathers and wiggled his eyebrows the way Brett often did. Just one more instance where the boy emulated his dads.

“Mate, you know the words to all their songs?” Owen had his mouth close to his friend’s ear to be heard.

“Not all, but 'This is War' is one of my favorite ones of theirs. It’s from an older album. I discovered it after downloading their last one which got me to buy them all. Check it out, he’s coming down.”

The lead singer slowly worked his way down the aisle to their left, never stopping his singing, until he reached the open-air lawn where he was quickly drenched by the rain now falling. He was a blur of constant motion, expending energy he got from who knows where, jumping from one side of the pathways to the other. The band segued into “Conquistador” and Leto started to move back under the roofed portion of the amphitheater. CJ and Owen were now standing on their chairs as were most of the people around them. The empty row in front of them was the one the singer chose to move through on his way to the other side. Running across the unoccupied chairs, he extended his hand out and grasped Owen’s arm to balance himself. When he didn’t release his hold fast enough, the Aussie stumbled and fell to the ground as the artist made his way back to the stage.

“Dude, you okay?” Brett shouted while CJ helped his laughing friend stand.

“I’m great, mate. This is bloody awesome!”

The band played a mixture of songs from different albums, most of them coming from their 2013 release Love Lust Faith + Dreams, ending with “Up in the Air” before returning to the stage to play “City of Angels” as their encore. The effect of their shared joint was evident in CJ, Owen, and Brett. Even after the music had stopped and the stage hands were moving musical equipment around to get ready for Linkin Park, they were still dancing and repeating the chorus from the last number at the top of their lungs.

“Let’s go get you guys something to drink,” César suggested. “You all are sweating up a storm.”

“I want a pretzel,” Brett replied. “I’m hungry.”

“Papa’s got the munchies, Papa’s got the munchies.” CJ scampered ahead of his fathers to avoid the head slap he was certain was coming. “Come on, Owen. You can buy me a soda.”

It was almost two in the morning when the four men entered the elevator at the Biltmore Hotel and pressed the button for their floor. Linkin Park had taken the stage over an hour after they were scheduled to and although they’d all enjoyed their performance, it was Jared Leto and 30 Seconds to Mars who were the subject of conversation during the ride to Miami.

CJ and Owen had finished smoking the joint the pot fairy had gifted them and were a giggling mess in the backseat during the ride back to the hotel, while Brett had his eyes closed and swayed from side to side to the sound of the music on the radio. CJ’s room was the first of the three and all of them stopped in front of the door. “You feeling okay, buddy?” César asked.

“Yeah, I feel great. I had an awesome time tonight, Dad. Thanks.”

“You’re welcome. We’ll see you in the morning.”

“Hey!” CJ called out, taking hold of Owen’s shirtsleeve as his dads started walking away. “Stay with me?” he asked staring, into the Aussie's red-rimmed, bright blue eyes.

“Always.” Owen’s reply was so soft CJ barely heard it.

“That was interesting,” Brett said once they’d closed the door to their room.

“Yeah, it was a pretty good concert. I just wasn’t expecting to be dealing with three stoners.”

“Bah, you’re just jealous ‘cause you were the designated driver.”

“Maybe, we’ll have to discuss pot smoking in a bit more detail once we get back home.”

“Why? We know he’s been smoking for a while. And you can’t be thinking about asking him to just say no. That’d be stupid. And in your case hypocritical. You’ve smoked enough in your life. And that’s not what I was talking about being interesting. I meant CJ asking Owen to spend the night with him. I thought he said they haven't had sex at all since we were in Australia together.”

“That’s what he told me too. I think the pot may have lowered his inhibitions tonight.”

“Well, I don’t mind. I like that dude. A fellow surfer in the family would be welcome. Can you imagine those two getting married one day? Hey! You and I could end up being grandparents.”

“Bite your tongue, Jarhead. CJ’s too damn young. How about we get him through high school and college first? Let’s just deal with today. Soon enough, we’ll be livin’ in the future.”