Gap Year - 35. Chapter 35

February 21, 2004

Santa Cruz, CA

Will

“What the fuck is a sham charity?” I demanded, not a little annoyed. Shit, Stef and my father had put a ton of money into the foundation.

“Just forget it,” Mike said, put off by my evident anger and the intensity of my response. I thought back to the recent discussions between me, Jake, and my father, and how when Jake slammed my father for being candid and sharing how he felt, Dad closed up like a turtle retreating into its shell. I was doing the same thing to Mike.

“No, seriously,” I said in a calmer and more friendly tone. “I want to know what that is, and how our foundation is one of them.”

“Why?” he demanded defensively. He probably figured that my change in demeanor was some sort of evil trick.

“Because I just got appointed to the Board at the end of the year, and my first Board meeting is in a couple of weeks,” I said. “I want to know what’s going on.”

“You think you can get them to change?” he asked in a snarky way, almost taunting me.

“You haven’t even told me what’s wrong, but if it’s a problem, yeah, I can get them to change,” I said. He looked at me skeptically. “I’m a big pain in the ass and they know it.” Most of my relatives would think that was a massive understatement.

He laughed at that. “So am I, but you seem to have more luck with it.”

“Evidently,” I said, then stared at him, demanding to know what he was talking about.

“I’m getting a double major in Community Service and Economics,” he said. “We’ve been studying foundations and came up with the term ‘sham charity’ to describe an organization that says it’s a charity but is really more worried about building up its assets than helping people. It’s more about their prestige than their mission.”

“You think our foundation does that?” I asked. It sure as hell did a good job of building up assets, and I realized that the refined image it projected was important to some of my relatives on the Board.

“I do,” he said, then shivered a bit.

“Come on,” I said, and led him into the great room where we sat by the fire.

“Your foundation is headquartered in fancy offices in the tony part of the City,” he said. “Why?”

“I don’t know,” I said, wondering that myself. It was in a high rise in the financial district. That did seem pretty removed from real world problems.

“A real charity would be less worried about having impressive offices, and more worried about improving the world,” he said. I could see his point on that. I wondered why it was set up that way. Probably because Stef, Grandmaman, and Claire didn’t like going to seedier neighborhoods.

“Alright, so that’s one problem,” I said. I didn’t see how that could make the whole thing a sham, to use his terms.

“Foundations have to spend 5% of their assets every year, and they are allowed to count some administration expenses in that,” he said. I digested that, then started to connect the dots.

“That’s one of the reasons why having expensive office space makes it even worse,” I mused.

“Exactly,” he said. “Do you know how much the Schluter Foundation actually pays out each year?”

“No,” I admitted. I mean, I read the reports, but didn’t really pay attention to that.

“Five percent,” he said, raising his eyebrows. “You’re sitting on a lot of money, but you only pay out the minimum.”

“Just what’s required by the law,” I mused. The charity would then have a budget of about $100 million per year. “And the returns have been way higher than 5%.”

“They have been,” he agreed. “Just think what could happen if you actually spent more than that, maybe 10%, to try and solve some problems?” It was funny, because suddenly he got animated at the thought of all the things that much money could accomplish.

“I’m betting good things would happen,” I said, not a little confused by all of this, although that was probably made worse by me being so stoned.

“I’m betting,” he said. “It actually gets even worse.”

“Alright,” I said nervously.

“Most of the money paid out goes to other charities like the United Way,” he said. “In essence, you’re not really doing much work on your own, you’re just funneling money through to other groups.”

“I mean, isn’t it a good thing to prop up the work of other charities?” I asked.

“Maybe, but it’s also kind of a big club,” he said. “Think about it. If the director of your foundation gives a chunk of change to the United Way, then he’s super popular with them, and they do nice things for him. Plus it gives him serious status in the world of foundations.”

“You think the director is doing that just for status,” I objected. The director of the foundation was Craig Arundel, and he’d been in that position for about five or six years. He was about forty-five years old and very handsome, while his attractiveness was supercharged by his outgoing personality. Stef always spoke highly of him.

“Maybe he is, maybe he isn’t,” Mike said. “Even if that’s not the case, dude, the bigger the foundation, the more status he and the foundation have. So spending money just makes that a bigger deal.”

“So your hypothesis is that the minimum payouts are being made so that the foundation gets bigger and the director gets to toss out cash to other charities,” I said to sum it up. “Plus the foundation is more prestigious.”

“That’s my theory,” he said, and he said it with conviction. I could see how my relatives would find the enhanced prestige compelling, especially Grandmaman and Aunt Claire. That would definitely earn them some props when they were talking to other society doyennes.

“I read in the reports about all the cool stuff they’re doing,” I objected.

“Of the 5% that’s paid out, about 1% goes to original charitable works,” he said. “And that includes your work on the Missions, which actually is pretty awesome.”

“Thanks,” I said awkwardly, since while I was proud of the Missions and what they did, my mind was blown by having him alter my world reality. “So we’re only kicking out $20 million each year to our own charitable causes, and a chunk of that goes to the Mission.”

“You’re good at math,” he said, both to confirm I was right and because he was impressed at how I pulled those stats together while being pretty stoned at the same time.

“How do you know so much about our foundation?” My skepticism was aroused because it was almost like he had a personal vendetta against it.

“For class we had to pick a charity to investigate, so I picked yours,” he said. Before I could ask him why, he answered my unspoken question. “I did it for two reasons. I knew a dude who used to work there, so he made things easier to discover by guiding me in the right direction.”

“Makes sense,” I said. Having an in would definitely make the project easier. “You said he used to work there?”

“He was forced to quit,” Mike said, and seemed really pissed off about that.

“Why?”

“He’d done a couple of pitches to the Board on projects to fund. That’s where they go into the Board meeting and talk about a project and how exciting it is, and how much it will help the world,” he said. I’d heard Stef, Grand, and my father talk about those because some really impressed them.

“Guess I’ll find out about that soon enough,” I said nervously because I knew there was a big slam coming.

“You will,” he said.

“So why did he get upset about that?” I asked. Was he just being a bitch because he had to talk to the Board?

“Because after he made those presentations, the decision was made not to fund them,” he said.

“Wait a minute,” I said, wrapping my mind around this. “So he went into the Board and made a presentation that got everyone hyped about a project, then the foundation didn’t give them money?”

“That’s what happened,” he said.

“Why did they do that?” I asked.

“He questioned his supervisor about that, and was told that in the end, they didn’t meet the requirements after a fuller vetting,” he said.

“They presented these ideas to the Board before making sure they were fundable?” I asked, stunned.

“They did,” he said. “After the second meeting, my friend was so mad he expressed himself a bit too loudly. Understand, he’s super-passionate about things, and he was really upset that good projects weren’t getting any cash.”

“I guess his supervisor didn’t appreciate his feedback,” I observed.

“No one is supposed to complain about anything there,” he said. “That’s the culture. If you went up and talked to the analysts who looked at these things, they’d shut up so fast it would make your head spin.”

“That sucks,” I said. What a shitty way to run an organization. “What’s the other reason you picked our charity to analyze?”

“We applied for a grant and were denied,” he said. Maybe all this was just him being mad because he asked for money and didn’t get it. “I started my research before we put the grant in because I wanted to know more about the foundation.” It was almost annoying that he answered my questions as soon as they floated around in my brain.

“So you’d be able to better target your request,” I concluded.

“Exactly,” he said.

“Tell me about this grant,” I instructed.

“It was for our Gay Straight Alliance, or GSA,” he said. “I figured that since your grandfather is one of the most visibly out people in the business world, the foundation would be receptive to our request. Not to mention that your father and other grandfather are both out too.”

“They should be,” I said uncomfortably, although my mind was distracted by his work with the GSA, and my curiosity about whether that meant he was gay. I wondered if he knew I was. I forced my mind back on the topic at hand.

“We asked for $200,000 to fund a legal defense fund for gays or lesbians who get harassed,” he said.

“Harassed?” I asked.

“Yeah,” he said. “Sometimes it’s at work, where they have to put up with a bunch of shit because they’re out. Sometimes they get busted cruising and get arrested. Sometimes they have neighbors who cause them problems. Dude, there’s all kinds of shit out there making it tough for a gay dude or a lesbian in 2004.” When he talked about this stuff, it made me feel guilty because it reminded me how lucky I was. I was shielded by tons of money and power, so I had the luxury to be myself and not have to put up with crap; most other people weren’t so lucky.

“And they turned you down?” I asked, stunned.

“Yeah,” he said. “Got the letter from them last month. Said that they had already completed their funding plans for the year and couldn’t help us.”

“You have copies of the grant you sent in and the response?” I asked.

“I do,” he said. “You want them?” He acted surprised that I was interested in what he proposed.

“Yeah,” I said, in the same way I’d say ‘duh’.

“Why?”

“Because I need to prove what happened to Stef, and because if it’s legit you’ll get your $200,000,” I said.

“If it’s legit?” he asked, acting all insulted.

“Dude, I’ve only known you for a few hours, and only decided I liked you in the past fifteen minutes or so,” I said, making him smile.

“You want me to go get it now?” he asked.

“No, I want you to get it tomorrow. Tonight, I want you to party with me,” I said.

“I can be a lot of fun,” he said, raising an eyebrow to make it a sexy statement.

“Show me,” I said, in a sultry way. Just as my flirting looked like it might lead to something, Dad and Jake came bounding into the room. How ironic that the two of them would cock-block me.

“Hey there!” Dad said in his friendly way.

“Hey,” I said, getting my act together. “This is Mike McConnell.”

“Nice to meet you Mike,” Dad said. “I’m Brad Schluter and this is my husband, Jake Pike.” I was so tempted to add a snarky ‘for now’ but I restrained myself.

“Nice to meet you too,” Mike said politely and shook their hands. It was funny that he was a lot nicer to my father than he’d been to me. Maybe that’s because he’d decided I wasn’t the great Satan, or maybe it was because of the power my father projected. It was funny because he did that even when he wasn’t trying to.

“Mike’s just spent the last half hour telling me how fucked up our foundation is,” I said, embarrassing the shit out of Mike.

“It is?” Dad asked, then went on before I could answer him. “Well, you’re on the Board now, so maybe you can shake things up.”

“You have no idea,” I said in a menacing way.

“You think they’re playing music down on the beach?” Jake asked.

“Definitely,” Mike said. “We should go back.”

“Come on,” I said to the three of them, and led them out of the house and back down toward the beach. I stopped about halfway down and looked at Mike. “You want to roll?”

“I was probably going to snag some shrooms, but Molly would be so much better,” he said. I pulled out a foil wrapper, took out two pills and handed one to him. We both downed them, then continued our walk toward the beach. I looked at my father, daring him to say anything, but he wisely kept his mouth shut. He’d lost his right to bitch about anything I did unless I was shooting heroin.

The fire was really big, casting flickering light as well as some welcome warmth on the group. The ambiance was further enhanced by the sound of the waves crashing on the shore. But those two sensory inputs were totally overwhelmed by the sound of music and singing. They were singing “Hey Ya” and doing a damn good job of it. A couple of guys had guitars, and along with Bongo’s bongos, they kept a nice beat. It was cool to see Ryan and John singing along with them. Those two, along with Bongo and Claude, seemed to dominate the singing.

“These guys are talented,” Jake said, surprised. Mike took off and ran ahead of us and jumped right into the chorus. His voice was deep and silky, and it made him even sexier, as if that was possible. I took my seat and everyone made room for Dad and Jake, then I focused on packing my bong and passing it around. When they were done with that song, Mike came over and sat by me, which was cute. Marie was on my right, while Mike was on my left between me and Bongo.

“I thought that dude hated you?” Marie whispered in my ear.

“I changed that without taking my pants off,” I joked, making her laugh.

“That’s probably a first for you,” she said.

“Probably,” I agreed. After about half an hour the ecstasy kicked in, and then I really had a blast. Mike kept bumping into me, but it was more like glancing contact, and it made me so horny I was tempted to pretend I had to pee, using that as an excuse to wander off in the darkness and jack off. They stopped playing music, probably because they wanted a break, but it was also a big clue to my father and Jake that it was time for them to bail. Jake didn’t get the clue, probably because if he was here alone, he would have ended up fitting in just fine, but my father did.

“I think we’ll head up,” he announced, as he and Jake stood up. “Thanks for letting us crash your party. You are all so talented.”

“It was a blast,” Jake augmented. People thanked them for the party as they walked away, and then the party atmosphere returned.

“Hey John,” I said, getting his attention. “Did you invite Molly?”

“I did,” he said with a smile, and pulled out his pill bottle. Everyone except the other unattached dude that was with Mike, his name was Ashton, popped one. Ashton would have but he was so fucked up it didn’t even register for him. He’d been drinking like a fucking fish, and he was swaying around like he was going to fall. I watched him for a second, he swayed a bit more, then fell over into the sand and passed out. We all laughed at him.

“Dude can’t handle his alcohol,” Bongo said, shaking his head.

We sat around the fire, staying close so it warmed us up, and that brought Mike and me even closer. He partially propped himself up with his right hand, which was behind me. I felt him move it forward so now it was in contact with the top of my ass. When I did ecstasy, I got this almost overwhelming desire to do oral shit. At parties I’d see people who had pacifiers in their mouths to kind of deal with that, and while I wasn’t that bad, it was still really intense. When he started moving his finger back and forth so it was brushing my ass, he just about set me free. Slowly he moved his hand up so he was stroking the bottom of my back, so I reciprocated by using my left hand to stroke his right thigh.

I took a minute to study our crowd. The couples were already paired off, and John was doing the same kind of light touching deal that Mike and I were doing with the chick that came with Mike. Mike leaned forward and spoke into my ear, letting me feel his lips against my lobe. “I probably need to help Ashton pass out somewhere.”

“I’ll help you with that,” I said, with my mouth close to his ear just like he’d done. I turned to Marie, who was all cuddled up with Ryan. “I think we’re going to haul that dude up and find him a place to pass out.”

“I already have all the spaces organized for who sleeps where,” she said, slurring a bit. “It should work out great as long as you and Mike share a room.” God she was awesome. My father and Jake cock-block me, but here’s Marie giving me a golden opportunity.

“You cool with that?” I asked Mike.

“I can do that,” he said. Mike, Ryan, and I hauled Ashton up the stairs to the house and deposited him in the room Marie had set aside for him.

“Let me show you to your palatial quarters for the night,” I said to Mike, making him chuckle. “It’s nice, has a great view, plus it has its own bathroom.”

“That’s very good,” he said, grinning. He went in, closed the door, and peed. I was so tempted to barge in and try to get him to fuck around, but he’d been acting like the kind of dude who took things slow and easy, so I forced my raging, ecstasy-fueled hormones to stay calm, more or less. He came out and I was hoping he’d want to at least make out, but he was all fired up from the Molly. “Let’s go back down and party!”

“I’m in!” I said, just as enthusiastically, since there wasn’t really any other choice.

We got to the beach and found that the group that had been mellowing after that first round of music was now just feeling their own ecstasy pills kick in. Ryan, Claude, John, Mike, and Bongo started playing and singing, while the rest of us began dancing, which wasn’t all that easy in the sand. Some of the others sang along when they knew the words, but I wisely remembered that at best I was allowed to lip sync so I didn’t ruin the whole song, so that’s what I did. It was surreal, almost like a wonderland scene, where we were surrounded by this beautiful scene of the beach and the cliffs, which the music seemed to just echo off of. It was such a rush, I didn’t really notice the cold, probably because I was dancing around so much. I ended up making out with the girl who came with Mike, which was fun but there was no real passion from either of us. I did notice Mike staring over at us looking not a little jealous.

This group had some endurance. I ended up dancing with Marie, even though at this point we were almost just undulating in one place because we’d been going at it for so long. “This was such a great idea!” she said enthusiastically.

“No shit,” I said. “You are so much fun. You almost never roll.”

“I decided that tonight would be one of those special occasions,” she said, and gave me a big hug, which I returned whole heartedly. “I really do love you, you know.”

“I love you too,” I said with a big smile, even as I kind of chuckled internally. Molly made you love everyone.

The ‘band’ was just as tired as the rest of us, so they stopped for a drink, and that seemed to draw us all back to our places by the fire. Fortunately the dudes who were the keepers of the fire weren’t singing or dancing, so they’d kept the blaze going. Ryan got back, took a drink, and immediately planted a major liplock on Marie. I stared at them because they were such an attractive couple: they both looked amazing and the way they merged their mouths was like perfection. I was probably all but gawking at them, so it was a good reality check when I felt Mike plop down next to me. I felt his hand on my lower back just like it had been before. “You having fun?” he asked me, grinning like an idiot.

“I am having the best time,” I said with a smile. His eyes locked on mine, his smile vanished, and he moved closer to me, even as his hand moved up my back to pull me closer as well. I closed my eyes and felt his breath on my face, then the tentative touch as his lips connected to mine. And then it was like our mouths were fused together. The entire world seemed to stop, and I was in this bubble with him, making out, letting my ecstasy high and my oral fixation have free rein. Even without the drugs and the ambiance, he was one of the best kissers I’d ever hooked up with. The funny thing though, was that as much fun as I was having mashing with him, it wasn’t like I was desperate to rip off his clothes and fuck him. I thought about things and smiled internally, thinking it was kind of like what I’d told Jake he needed to do. Usually I was so anxious to get to sex I kind of charged through this part, but this time I was just enjoying the moment. I mean, it’s not like I wasn’t hard as a rock, it’s just that I didn’t want to move the action from my mouth to my dick.

I was pulled away from my oral bliss when I felt a foot gently kick my back. “Everyone’s going up,” Marie said. I was pretty sure I was blushing so badly that my red face was visible even in the dim light of the fading fire.

“I’ll go up too,” I said, and got a nod from Mike. I dinged around a bit, acting like I was getting my stuff together when actually I was just trying to get my dick to deflate enough not to further embarrass myself. I winked at Mike, because he was obviously doing the same thing.

I was really impressed with this group and how careful they were about taking everything we’d brought down with us. Some people left shit on the beach, and that just about set me free, but not these guys. We hauled our stuff, and the few wasted people who were unsteady, up to the house, where Mike and I sorted through it while Ryan and Marie showed people where to crash. It was a total relief when Mike and I got back to my bedroom. “Finally,” he said, and we started making out again.

“Dude, I smell nasty and have sand all over me,” I said, then got more flirtatious. “Take a shower with me?”

That made him a little nervous, but he smiled. We stripped down, with me being totally unable to stop ogling him as he did. He was pretty thin, with good muscle tone. I was most surprised by his arms, which were pretty fucking big. His hair was shaved close around his dick, but not so close that its red color didn’t completely stand out. He was half hard, and I was guessing he’d end up at a good six inches, with normal thickness. He started laughing, and I looked down to notice that I was hard as a rock. “You are fucking hung.”

“Does that scare you?” I asked in a sultry way, even as I led him into the bathroom and into the shower.

“Not at all,” he said. We had a really sensuous shower, washing each other off and then finally jacking off together, then we went back and climbed into bed. He lay next to me on his side, facing me. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” I asked.

“Most gay guys would meet a guy like you and grab their ankles, but I move slower than that,” he said.

I gave him a nice kiss. “You have nothing to apologize for. I’m having a blast.”

“I’m glad,” he said. We made out for a while, blew each other, then passed out.