Appearances, copyright 2006, 2007, 2008, by Etienne. All rights reserved.
If the idea of two men loving each other and expressing that love in a sexual manner offends you, then you have clearly come to the wrong place. Feel free to leave.
-62-
Saturday evening Charles and I arrived in midtown at the appointed time. It was the first time we had been back to the townhouse since we had sold the place to Richard and Bruce.
Bruce greeted us at the door, and suggested that we go up to the study so that we could all be convenient to the kitchen, where Joe was hard at work. We followed Bruce upstairs, where we found Joe at the counter wearing an apron, and stirring something on the stove. John, similarly attired, was nearby working on a salad.
Charles set four bottles of wine on the counter saying, “We brought two each of a red and a white, just in case. All of the bottles are fresh from our wine cellar.”
Joe examined the bottles. “Wow, Santa Margherita Pinot Grigio. That’s the best, but I don’t recognize the red wine.”
“It’s a Super Tuscan,” Charles said. “Tenuta dell'Ornellia. I think you’ll like it very much.”
“We’re always willing to learn,” Joe said. “Thanks. Dinner will be on the table soon.”
“Why don’t you open the Santa Margherita, and take it into the study?” John said, handing Charles a corkscrew.
Charles opened the wine, and carried the bottle into the study as directed. Richard rose from his chair to greet us, and Charles handed him the bottle, making pouring motions.
Bruce produced six glasses, and Richard carefully divided the contents of the bottle between them. Bruce carried two of the glasses to the kitchen, before returning to the study.
We sipped our wine in silence. We had all been together the evening before, so there wasn’t a lot of catching up to do.
I looked around at the study. Richard and Bruce had added a few personal touches, but it was very much the same room it had been before Charles and I had vacated the premises. Before any conversation could get underway, John joined us.
“Dinner will be on the table in ten minutes,” he said.
“What’s on the menu?” Charles said.
“Osso Buco alla Milanese,” John said. “It was one of Grandma Cacci’s specialties. There will be pasta and homemade garlic bread on the side.”
“Sounds good to me,” Charles said, “and I know Philip loves it.”
“The red wine will do it justice,” I said.
“Too right, babe,” Charles said.
We had been talking about nothing in particular for a few minutes, when Joe entered the study. He had removed his apron, had one arm pressed to his stomach, and had a white towel neatly folded across his forearm.
“Dinner is served,” he intoned.
We followed him to the dining room, where we found the table set very formally, complete with place cards and napkin rings. Joe directed us to sit, while he and John served. That being done, he and John took their places.
The food was superb, and we all told Joe so at length. The conversation at the table ranged freely over a number of subjects before it wound down. Finally, Charles said, “Okay, guys. What’s the occasion?”
“We thought you’d never ask,” John said.
“You know that John and I have been making do with just one car for more than a year, now, right?” Joe said.
“Yes,” I said.
“You won’t believe how much money that has saved us,” John said, “what with car payments, gas, insurance and other things.”
“And both of us are pulling the occasional double shift,” Joe said.
“The bottom line is,” John said, “we reached our goal with the nest egg, and we’ve found a house.”
“Great,” Charles said. “Where?”
“Just around the corner,” Joe said. “If you look out the back windows of this house, you can almost see it.”
“Right, it’s a smaller town house one street over,” John said.
“We almost didn’t get it,” Joe said. “The bank had approved us, but they wanted an obscene interest rate which would have made the payments a bit out of our comfort zone, even with ten percent down.”
“We told the Realtor that,” John said, “and he came back with an offer from the owners, something called Midtown Properties, LLC. They agreed to carry the mortgage themselves, with a fixed interest rate at prime plus one point.”
“It turns out that they are liquidating a lot of their holdings, and there are tax advantages for them to do what is called an installment sale,” Joe said.
“So,” I said, “when do you close, and when do we get to see the house?”
“On the tenth of next month, and as soon thereafter as we can furnish it,” John said.
“We’re very happy for you,” Charles said. “I hope you will let the four of us throw you a housewarming.”
“You’re on,” Joe said. “Now, who wants dessert? I made Grandma Cacci’s famous Tiramisu.”
“That’s the magic word,” Charles said.
Now that their secret was out, John and Joe were beside themselves describing their plans, and conversation revolved around that subject for most of the rest of the evening.
Finally, we reached a point at which we were ready to go home. We thanked John and Joe again, and left them in the kitchen, cleaning up. Bruce stayed upstairs to help them, while Richard walked us down to the car.
We were just about to get in the car, when Richard said, “That was a good thing you guys did.”
“Whatever do you mean?” Charles said.
“Come on, Charley, this is me you’re talking to. When John and Joe told me about this deal, I checked into Midtown Properties, LLC.”
“And?” Charles said.
“It’s true that they have liquidated several properties in the Metro area, but this is the only one on which they are carrying the paper.”
“So?”
“There were so many layers of ownership, that even I couldn’t ‘pierce the corporate veil,’ as the saying goes.”
“I hate to repeat myself, but so?” Charles said.
“I can’t prove shit, but this has your fingerprints all over it.”
“Don’t look at me,” Charles said. “Philip is the real estate tycoon.”
“And Philip doesn’t do anything that you don’t know about, does he?”
“Philip and I have no secrets from each other, if that’s what you mean.”
“So, I will repeat myself,” Richard said, “that was a good thing that you guys did. Don’t worry, I haven’t told John and Joe, or for that matter, Bruce, what I suspect I know.” He touched his finger to the side of his nose in the universal gesture for secrecy.
“We’ve had a lovely evening, Richard,” Charles said. He gave Richard a hug. “Why don’t we let Philip and Bruce organize the housewarming?”
“You’ve got it, boyo.” Richard gave me a hug, and went back into the house.
As we headed over to Peachtree, Charles said, “Sometimes Richard is just a little too clever.”
“There are still three properties in various stages of negotiation. Maybe we need to offer to carry the paper on a couple of them.”
“No problem. Like the man said, there are tax advantages.”
“It was really sad, listening to some of the stories Joe told about his experiences working the detox ward,” I said.
“Did you ever try drugs, babe?” he said.
“Not even pot,” I said.
“Me neither. I guess that makes us the last two Boy Scouts, doesn’t it?”
The following Monday I was sitting in the sun room with Lancelot at my feet when Charles came home from work. I was watching Roger and Steve, who were working in the garden, planting some flowering plants. They were wearing running shorts and tennis shoes, and were shirtless and covered with sweat.
Charles said, “Hi babe, what’s up?” He reached down to rub the bridge of Lance’s nose. Lance leaned into the rubbing - next to a liver treat, it was his favorite thing.
“Not much. I took a break from writing, and have been sitting here with a glass of tea, watching the boys at work. It’s kind of interesting, watching them interact.”
“How so?”
“For one thing, if Roger bends over one more time, he is going to get royally fucked.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I’ve been sitting here for half an hour. Every time Roger bends over to dig a hole for a plant, Steve sort of stops what he’s doing, and focuses on Roger’s ass. I think one more display will trigger things.”
“Surely you exaggerate.”
“Just watch for a minute, and you’ll see what I’m talking about.”
A minute or two later, Roger got on his knees to use a trowel to dig another hole. When he bent over, Steve stopped working, and stared at Roger’s ass. A few short seconds later, he got up, placed his hand on Roger’s butt, leaned down, and whispered something in his ear. Roger turned to face Steve with a grin on his face. The two of them got up and headed toward the pool house at a trot.
“I told you so.”
“Very clever of you.”
“Not really. As a writer, I’m a careful observer of the human condition.”
“In that case, why don’t you come upstairs and carefully observe this human’s condition?”
“I thought you’d never ask.”
“You have to be asked?”
“Point taken.”
After I had finished observing and taking care of Charles’ condition we went up to the playroom, where we found Gran watching the older members of our tribe at play. She turned her attention from the kids when she saw us.
“It wears me out, watching those two,” she said.
“I know what you mean,” Charles said as he scooped up one of the boys. “It’s too bad we can’t find a way to harness all of that energy.”
“Just wait until those two are big enough to join them,” I said, picking up the other toddler and indicating the two younger boys, who were at the moment confined to a playpen.”
“Speaking of energy,” Charles said, “what were Steve and Roger planting when I came home?”
“They came to me the other day,” Gran said, “and suggested that they could make the garden even more colorful than it is. I didn’t ask what they had in mind, I simply told them to go right ahead.”
“Steve has been compiling a portfolio of the landscaping jobs they’ve done,” I said. “It’s quite impressive.”
“I’ve seen it,” Gran said. “He is justifiably proud of the three projects that used his own ideas, rather than the developer’s.”
“Good for him,” Charles said. “I hope we can raise these four to be as hard working as Roger and Steve.”
“That, my boy,” Gran said, “is entirely dependent upon the example set by the two of you.”
Later that evening we were in the study, listening to music. Steve and Roger came and sat down quietly across the room from us.
“What’s that Uncle Philip?” Steve said.
“Faure’s Requiem,” I said.
“It’s nice,” Roger said.
“Nice?” Charles said. “Nice? Is that the best you can do? It’s sublimely beautiful.”
“Yeah, that, too,” Steve said.
“And it’s kind of nice,” Roger said.
Charles threw up his hands in surrender.
I decided to change the subject. “You guys are going back to Gwinnett County, tomorrow, aren’t you?” I said.
“Yes Sir,” Steve said, “and again on Friday.”
“Does Richard have everything set up to your satisfaction?” Charles said.
“You bet,” Roger said. “We’ll have an officer from the GBI actually driving the truck, just in case.”
“Well, Richard said he was going to call in a marker,” Charles said. “Good for him.”
“Are you nervous?” I said.
“Not really,” Steve said, “but that doesn’t mean we won’t be careful.”
“Good for you,” Charles said. “You guys have handled yourselves extremely well through this whole thing.”
Tuesday came and went without incident. Thursday afternoon Charles arrived home somewhat earlier than usual.
“It’s a bit early, isn’t it?” I said, looking at my watch.
“Brian Scott is on the way to the house with some video footage for us to see.”
“Something happened with the boys?”
“In a word, yes. It’s all been handled, and everything is cool.”
“Aren’t you going to tell me?”
“Give me a few minutes to shower and change, babe. By that time, Brian will be here with the videos.”
“Go ahead,” I said, “I’ll listen for the door.”
Ten minutes or so later, I led Brian Scott upstairs to the study, arriving just as Charles emerged from the Master Suite, his hair still looking a bit damp.”
“Hi, Brian,” Charles said. “Help yourself to the equipment.” He pointed at the television and DVD player.
Without a word, Brian went to the entertainment center, and inserted a disc into the player. I retrieved the remote control, turned the TV on, and handed the control to Brian.
While he brought the images up, he said, “This is all rough footage. We had two cameras running, one in the cab of the truck, and one in a following vehicle. I have already done some editing to combine the two. My guys are editing it down to a short version for the six o’clock news, and a longer version for a later broadcast.”
We watched in fascination, as the screen showed Roger climbing into the jump seat, and Steve getting into the passenger seat of one of the trucks, with an unidentified female taking the driver’s seat.
Brian sped up the player as the truck headed up I-85, toward the suburbs. They had just turned off of I-85, onto a secondary highway, when a voice could be heard saying, “Get ready, here they come.”
A siren could be heard in the distance, and the truck pulled off the highway, onto the shoulder. A county car, with lights flashing pulled in ahead of the truck.
A female voice said, “Okay, guys, let me do the talking.”
The camera shot shifted to the driver’s window, as a deputy sheriff came into view.
“License and Registration, please,” he said.
“We weren’t speeding,” the female could be clearly heard to say.
“License and Registration, please,” he said.
“Deputy, I must inform you that you are under Court order to cease your harassment of these two young men and their crews,” she said.
“Sheriff says not to worry about what that nigger Judge says, we’re doing the Lord’s work,” the Deputy said. “What are you, another one of those faggot loving reporters?”
“No, Deputy,” she said, “I am Captain Thelma Gamble of the Georgia Bureau of Investigation, and you are under arrest.”
She flashed her badge, and opened the door of the truck. As she did, an unmarked car drove up to the scene, and two officers jumped out with their guns drawn. The Deputy was cuffed and taken away in the unmarked car.
Brian turned the machine off at that point. “I’ve already taped my report for the six o’clock news,” he said. “The Sheriff has been arrested, and in addition to the one Deputy who was arrested, two others have been placed on administrative leave, pending further investigation.”
“Just before I left the office,” Charles said, “Richard called. He gave me a preliminary report on his investigation. It seems that the Sheriff and several of his crew belong to a very small fundamentalist sect which is virulently anti-gay. Their whole theology is evidently built around their anti-gay beliefs.”
“Does that mean the ordeal is over, as far as Steve and Roger are concerned?” I said.
“I should think so,” Charles said. “If these people have any sympathizers, they will certainly think twice before attempting anything else.”
“I guess I had better call my sister,” I said, “and let her know what is happening with Steve.”
“Handle it, babe,” he said. “Meanwhile, I’ll call Mason and Angela.”
We offered Brian a drink, but he declined, saying that he had to get back to the station to do some more polishing of his eleven o’clock report.
Saturday afternoon, we were sitting in the study enjoying a glass of wine with Mason when the boys came in from work.
“Hi, Dad,” Roger said. “I saw your car in the driveway. Where’s Mom?”
Mason stood to give Roger a hug. “She took your brothers to the Mall. They are both going through growth spurts, and needed clothes. She wants you to call her if you need anything.”
“Thanks, Dad,” Roger said, “but you know Steve and I have been buying our own clothes for quite a while.”
“Roger,” Mason said, “take my advice and call your mother. She’s not quite ready to have you all grown up and independent. She needs to feel ‘needed.’ Give her a call, and let her buy you something, even if it’s only socks, okay?”
“Sure, Dad,” Roger said. He pulled out his cell phone and punched a speed dial number. “Hi, Mom. Dad said to give you a call....... Oh, nothing really. Well, if you insist, maybe some handkerchiefs and dress socks. Thanks Mom.... Bye.”
The boys settled on a sofa, and Steve said, “Uncle Charles, do you think we could build a small greenhouse somewhere at the back of the property?”
“I don’t see why not,” Charles said. “Why do you need a greenhouse?”
“We want to start rooting shrubs from cuttings. As soon as they are big enough, we can put them in containers. Mr. and Mrs. Johnson are willing to let us keep the containers on a part of their property that they’re not using,” Steve said.
“They said we can pay a small amount of rent for the use of the land,” Roger said.
“What kind of greenhouse are you considering?” I said.
“We have a book that shows plans for making one, using redwood lumber, and sheets of corrugated fiberglass,” Steve said.
“I don’t have a problem with that,” Charles said. “Let me run it by Gran first. This is her house, too.”
I was looking at the boys, and detected something in Steve’s expression.
“Is there something else you guys need?” I said.
Steve looked at Roger and nodded.
“Dad,” Roger said, “do you know anybody that sells equipment?”
“Sure,” Mason said. “Why?”
“We need to buy a Ditch Witch trencher,” Roger said.
“That’s a huge, not to mention hugely expensive, piece of equipment,” Mason said. “What possible use would you have for such a thing?”
“Not the big Ditch Witch, Dad,” Roger said. “I’m talking about the little one that you walk along behind as you operate it. It’s about the size of a Roto-Tiller, and it digs a trench about a foot deep.”
“Let me guess,” Charles said. “You guys are doing landscaping, and have to install sprinkler systems.”
“Right,” Roger said. “It’s easy to do, and we make a lot of money doing it. We’ve branched out a bit and are installing sprinkler systems in places that didn’t already have them.”
“We’re spending a lot of money renting trenchers,” Steve said. “I keep hearing you guys say that if someone can make money renting you something, you ought to be able to save money by owning it.”
“Can you afford to pay for it?” I said.
“Yes Sir,” Steve said. “We’ve got more than enough set aside for equipment purchases.”
“In that case,” Mason said, “let me make a couple of calls and see if I can set up a time for you to go see a dealer.”
“Thanks, Dad,” Roger said. “Do you think you could find time to go with me when I do? You might be able to drive a better bargain than I could.”
Roger turned his head so that Mason couldn’t see his face, and winked at us as he said that. I looked at Charles and was barely able to suppress a smile. Roger was a quick study.
“Sure, Son,” Mason said as he set down his empty wine glass. He said good-bye, and Roger followed him downstairs to see him out.
“That little devil,” Charles said.
“What do you mean?” Steve said.
“After what Mason said about his Mom needing to feel ‘needed,’ Roger decided that dads need to feel ‘needed,’ also,” I said.
“Oh,” Steve said. “I get it.” His expression grew a bit cloudy for a moment.
I walked over and gave him a hug. “I know, Steve, you don’t have a dad, at least not in any real sense of the word. However, you’ve got a great Mom, and you’ve got the two of us.”
“I know,” he said. “You and Uncle Charles have shown me more love and affection in the short time I’ve been here than my dad did in my entire life. You don’t know how much I appreciate that.”
“But you can’t help but wonder sometimes, what it would have been like, if things had been different,” Charles said.
“Yeah,” Steve said softly.
“There’s nothing wrong with that,” I said, “as long as you keep things in perspective.”
“I love you guys,” Steve said, and excused himself to go down the hallway.
-To be continued-
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