The Fourth of July was speeding down on us on both rails. I figured we'd go to New Orleans. But no. They were coming to us. That was very cool. I mean, we could put everybody up, we have recreation out the ass, and we have a ton of friends that we wanted to celebrate with. The thing is, this Fourth of July, besides being Independence Day, is also the first birthday of our baby, and it's Justin's twentieth birthday. I know it's always going to be that way, but that's a triple whammy. And it's the first one. He is only one year old. I knew he wouldn't know what the hell was going on, but we all would know, okay? And I wanted it to be nice. But they all thought it would all just happen magically. It would just occur, without any planning or effort. Things like that always do, don't they? God! I figured we'd probably have between sixty and seventy-five people at that thing for dinner. It was going to be festive as hell, I decided, but how do you feed that many people? I'll tell you how you do it. You call Madeline at the hotel. That's how you do it. "How many?" she asked. "I don't really know. As many as seventy-five," I said. "Maybe eighty-five." "How do you want to do this? I think buffet is your only option, Kyle," she said. "Yeah. We can't seat that many people at tables without taking up the whole clubhouse," I said. "Buffet is good, I think." "How about a mixed grill?" she asked. "What do you mean?" I asked. "Just all kinds of different meats. Beef, lamb chops, pork chops, sausage. I don't know. Chicken. Shrimp. Lobster." "That sounds great," I said. "Let's do that. A mixed grill. That way people can get what they like. What about mashed potatoes? Broccoli casserole. Green salad. I think that's enough," I said. "Mashed potatoes with gravy," she said. "Beef gravy. We've got lap trays you can use, and people can just sit anywhere. How about shrimp cocktail for a first course? That can be put all around the place on tables, and people can just pick one up, if they want one. They can eat that like finger food, without forks." "Do you know what I wish we could have, instead of the shrimp cocktail? Shrimp remoulade. The chef at the Boardwalk makes the best remoulade sauce I've ever eaten," I said. "Kyle. I work at the Laguna, remember? I don't work at the Boardwalk," she said. "Besides, that's a sit-down dish. People can eat shrimp cocktail standing up, if they have to." "I know. When I get to be in charge, guess what?" I said. "I don't know. What?" she asked. "I'm going to make him give me that recipe," I said. "I asked him for it, but he wouldn't give it to me. That bastard." She laughed. She's beginning to recognize my bullshit for what it is, and I really like her. * * * The New Orleans people got here on the afternoon of July 3rd. We could have no more hidden that puppy from Rob than the man in the moon, and the two of them were so cute together. Cherie and Craig had thought about a name for her, and they wanted to name her Beach. I thought that was a perfect name, and right away Brian got busy teaching her her name. Trixie and Krewe were so cool while Brian was working with Beach. It was almost like they understood. I mean, I know they're dumb animals, but they aren't really all that dumb. I don't think so, anyway. I know plenty dumber boys. Beach got her name down pretty quick, and so did Rob. 'Be' . . . he called her. And she fucking knew he was calling her, too. Those three dogs played with that little boy all weekend long. It was totally amazing to me. I got a bunch of pictures. Very, very many pictures, in fact. I might have even gotten enough good ones to make another book of pictures. I'd been having some letters and phone calls and emails from them about wanting another book. We'll see. The thing about Rob is, he's really good natured. I mean, he cries now and then, but not like some of 'em I've seen. If I go into a restaurant and hear a little kid crying, I turn around and walk out. I don't think anybody loves babies and little kids any more than I do, but I blame the parents. I mean, the kid doesn't know you can't just scream in a place like that, but the parents should know. Take 'em outside when they act up. Make 'em shut up. Tuesday night, the night of the 3rd, it was just our immediate family of guys, plus Craig and Rob, out in the pool. Everybody was naked, including the baby. He was having a grand time in that water, but Craig thought he was getting tired. I got out and lay down on the pool deck, with Rob splayed out on my stomach and chest. He doesn't weigh more than a feather, but he was so cute sleeping on me. The three dogs were right there beside us, too. All of a sudden, I felt this hot wetness on my stomach, and I knew just what it was. I didn't care, though. They say that's good luck for a baby to piss on you. I don't know about that, but it's sure good luck to have him. Craig put his shorts on and took Rob into the house after a while. The rest of them were in there, talking or watching TV or something. In a few minutes, Cherie came out. The only one out of the water was me. She looked me over pretty good and smiled. That was the first time she had ever seen me fully naked, but I wasn't a bit embarrassed. If I was ever going to have sex with a woman, that was going to be the one. God, I love that girl. And I figure my equipment would probably work with her, too. She stripped right down to skin and joined the fun in the water. I got back in, too, and then Craig came out and got back in with us. It was only about 7:30, and it was still plenty light. Right about then Colleen, Jen, Stephanie, and Jessica showed up with Scott and Brady. We introduced them to Cherie and Craig, and they all stripped down to swim, too. Then, Philip and Ryan came over, and they got right in with us. It was quite a show, and we had a good time. Around midnight, Kevin said it was time for everybody to go home and go to bed. We had a busy day ahead of us, and we wanted to start early. Scott, Brady, and the four girls said they would be back the next day, and we told them they better be. Kevin made Philip and Ryan spend the night because they were both too drunk to drive home, but they acted like they had planned to do that, anyway. We all put clothes on to go inside to go to bed. Why, I don't know. The only lady in there was Grandma, and she's probably seen more naked boys than any of us. There was just something about it, though. They were staying at the condo, again, and they went there until the morning. Timmy and I got into bed, and I wrapped my arms around him. I gave him a short kiss on the lips. "Good night. I love you," I said, and we went to sleep. The next morning I woke up at 6:30. Hell, I had a lot to do. The condo crowd, Townhouse Boys, and our parents were coming for breakfast, for one thing, and I had to get that ready. I wasn't going to cook it fully until they got there, but there's a lot you can do to expedite that before you start cooking. I was trying something brand new: Eggs Benedict. I know you aren't supposed to try new stuff on company, but I figured the only hard parts to that were poaching the eggs and making the hollandaise sauce. And they aren't really all that hard. Justin was the first one down. "Why ain't you upstairs fucking Brian?" I asked. "What makes you think I haven't already?" he said. "Happy Birthday, Bubba," I said, and I gave him a kiss on his cheek. "Thanks," he said, grinning. He liked that. "You ain't a teenager any more," I said. "I know. I don't know if I should be glad or sad about that, though," he said. "I guess this is the end of boyhood for me." "I think this summer might be the end of boyhood for all four of us, don't you think? Have you thought about what it's going to be like driving away from here?" I asked. "Of course I have, you dumb fuck. Stop it. You're going to make me cry," he said. "How about if we look at it this way. Boyhood's end, but manhood's beginning," I said. "You've been a man for a long time, Kyle," he said. "I know, and so have you. I think we all have been," I said. "All four of us." "Well, I think we're going to have fun," he said. "I think so, too. Let me ask you something. What would you say if I asked Kevin and Rick if we could swap the Land Cruiser for the Celica?" I asked. "Why would you want to do that? The Land Cruiser is a much better car, I think," he said. "It is, but it's big. I'm thinking about all that on-street parking in New Orleans. I could park the Celica in, maybe, half the space as the Land Cruiser. I think it would just be more practical," I said. "Plus, it's only going to be the four of us." "You're probably right about that. But how are we going to get all our shit over there? Won't there be computers and books and shit?" he asked. "I've thought about that. Tim and Brian have an orientation and registration at Tulane, and you and I need to register at UNO, too. We're going to need to make a trip," I said. "We can take most of our shit then. Me and Tim in the Land Cruiser with shit; you and Brian in the pickup, with more shit. We don't have furniture to move, thank God. What do you think?" I asked. "Yeah. That sounds good to me. When is this thing?" he asked. "Orientation at Tulane is on the 16th and 17th of July. You and I can register any time this summer. That's a Monday and Tuesday, by the way," I said. "We can drive over on Sunday, visit with the folks, do our thing at the universities, and come home Wednesday." "Kyle, that Celica is nice, and I can understand how it would be more practical for parking and such, but what about when we all want to do something together? You know, with Craig, Cherie, and Rob, and with Grandma and Grandpa? And trips back here with them? Won't the Land Cruiser be better?" Justin asked. "I hadn't really thought about that aspect of it," I said. "Look, I know you like that Celica. So do I. Why don't you keep the Land Cruiser and just buy yourself a Celica once we get over there. You know you can afford it," he said. "I don't want to look like I'm showing off, though," I said. "Kyle, you don't show off, son. Me and Brian and Tim'll tell you if you start showing off. Never fear that," he said. "Don't say nothing about this conversation to nobody yet, okay?" I said. "Okay, Bubba. What the hell are you doing?" he asked. "I'm poaching eggs. We're having Eggs Benedict for breakfast, and it calls for poached eggs. In the cookbook, it said to poach them about half way so they can cook the rest of the way under the broiler. The yolk has got to be liquid, too. I dunno. This may be shit, but we're going to have it anyway. I hope it'll be fit to eat," I said. I knew it would be fit to eat. I mean, the yolks might be hard cooked, but you can't put that much good stuff on a plate and it not be fit to eat. I am not a great cook, by any means, but that's a lesson I learned a long time ago. If you have good ingredients, it's going to be edible. Unless you burn it or something, which I was definitely not going to do. The people from the condo got here about 8:30, and I already had a couple of pitchers of Bloody Marys waiting for them. Once again, we put out the vodka in the bottle so people could pour what they wanted, and I watched ole Pete, Denny, and Murray get themselves a little shot of it. Those boys need to learn how to have a drink, and that was as good a way as any for them to start. Philip and Ryan got their share, too, that's for sure. Those two boys already know how to drink. They don't need any instruction. Rob and the three dogs were so cute together. He would start to walk across the room, and Trixie would push him down with her snout. And he would laugh his little ass off. One time he grabbed Trixie by the ear to pull himself up, and I knew that must have hurt her. She just stood there with what I thought of as a smile on her face. I mean, I know dogs can't smile, but that's sure what it looked like. He was laughing and having so much fun, and we were all having fun just watching them. My parents came over early for breakfast, too, as did the Townhouse Boys and Tim's parents, and my dad took the floor. "Today is our country's two-hundred-and-something birthday and Rob's first birthday. But it's also the twentieth birthday of our honorary son, Justin Davis. Rita, George, Sonya, and I have a little gift for you. We wanted to give it to you now so the focus can all be on Rob tonight. Justin, happy birthday, Bubba," Dad said. He handed Justin an envelope, and I knew what it was. Twenty thousand dollars. We had us a little conspiracy going on. He was going to get three checks like that. "It turns out we have a little present for Justin, too," Grandpa said. "Congratulations, Bubba, and many happy returns. This is from the four New Orleans people." Guess what! Another check for twenty thousand. "Well, it turns out that your brothers wanted to give you a gift, too, Jus," Kevin said. It was another twenty thousand. Justin started crying. When you see a big ole macho stud like him crying over a card, that's pretty scary. "This is too much," Justin said. "Y'all can't give me this much money." "Oh, yes we can, and we did," Dad said. "We can't take it back." "Mr. Gene, y'all are too good to me. Thank you all soooooo much," he said. "I can't believe this. I think I'm rich." "I need help in the kitchen," I said. Craig started to stand up to come help. "Not you. Sit down," I said. "I need real help. Tim, Justin, Brian. Y'all get in there," I said, and everybody laughed. Well, my Eggs Benedict turned out pretty good. We garnished the plates with orange slices and some parsley sprigs, and the presentation was pretty nice. We had hot rolls, of course, cheese grits, and some coffeecake I had made a day or two before. It was a very nice breakfast to start a very important day. Tim, Brian, and Kevin each ate three Eggs Benedict, but Craig, Rick, Justin, Philip, Ryan, and I ate four. Everybody else just ate the two I served, but I knew those Townhouse Boys were just being polite in not asking for more. They polished off the four coffeecakes I had put on the table, so I reckon they got enough to eat. "Son, this was excellent," my mama said. "I think you're turning into a gourmet chef, Kyle," Sonya said. "But we're never going to let him work in a restaurant, are we, Gene?" Rick said. "No, sir," Dad said. "If he gets a taste of that . . . " "I know," Rick said. "No restaurant work for you, Kyle." That wasn't the first time I had heard that, but I still don't know why they said it. The official answer when I had asked before was I wouldn't want to do hotel work if I got into restaurant work, but don't our hotels have nice restaurants? Some of them, at least? They also said restaurant work doesn't go with family life. Isn't that something for me and Tim to work out? I don't get it. Murray, Denny, Pete, and Craig cleaned up the kitchen. I tell you what; that Craig is a fine man. He wants to be one of us so bad, he can't stand it. But his tastes lean toward pussy. It just wouldn't work out. * * * The day was absolutely magnificent. I had bought a little baby life jacket so Rob could go on the boat with us, and he was so cute in that thing. We didn't know about Beach on the boat. I figured she'd go in after somebody, just like Trixie and Krewe had done, so we made them stay on the dock. When it was my turn to ski, I held Rob in my arms. He laughed the whole time, and he was so cute. When the run was through, Philip, who was driving the boat, pulled up next to the dock to let me sink down into the water. I set Rob down in the water so he could bob around a little bit, and all three dogs were in that water in an instant. Trixie got her mouth on that life vest so fast it made me dizzy, and the other two helped her get him to shore. It was absolutely unbelievable. Trixie literally picked him up out of the water with her teeth buried in his life vest and walked him to shore. Rob was crying because he didn't know what the hell was going on, but everybody else knew. Brian and the rest of us were all over those dogs, praising them and hugging on 'em. The baby wasn't really in trouble 'cause I had him under control, but they didn't know that. They had saved their little boy, and they deserved the praise. Cherie got Rob calmed down in a minute, and he was petting his dogs in no time. They loved it, too. I noticed Beach was licking him. "Do you see that?" I asked Brian. "Yeah, but I haven't had enough time with her," Brian said. I grabbed Brian around the neck, and I licked his cheek. Well, he hadn't shaved that morning, so I got me some stubble tongue. He laughed his ass off. "I can see who the next one is I'm going to have to train," he said. * * * That was one of the best days we have ever had. There's no telling how many people were in and out of our house that day. We spent the whole day in and on the water, although there was always a pool game, a ping pong game, darts, and cards going on in the clubhouse. Some basketball, too, and a few video games. Fourth of July in Emerald Beach is like New Year's Eve in other places. People have big house parties, and all their friends and acquaintances drop by. Philip and Ryan's parents all stopped in for a drink and a bite to eat. Skeeter and Stinger McGhee came by about mid-afternoon, and they were both about half drunk. Those boys could still ski, though. They were drunker after a couple of hours, and Kevin made them stay until they sobered up. As it turned out, it ended up being the whole night, but they're such nice guys nobody cared. In fact, we had quite a crowd on the floor of the clubhouse that night. Kevin would have been drunk out there with 'em, if he hadn't had a bed in the house. His mama, my mama, and Rick were the only truly sober ones of us, and they wouldn't let anybody leave unless there was a totally sober designated driver in the crowd. Otherwise, they had to spend the night. I had bought a shit load of snack food, and by snack food I mean stuff like fried chicken, sub sandwiches, various salads, as well as the usual chips and nuts and shit. I had boiled up two hampers of crabs that I had bought (since we were no longer crabbing for ourselves), and there was corn on the cob, too. We fed people all day long. That night we had the catered food from the hotel, though, and I think everybody really enjoyed that. But the best part was the birthday cake for Rob. His cake had to be big 'cause there were a lot of people. I cut him a big hunk of it and put one candle in it. We all got around his high chair and sang "Happy Birthday." He was smiling real cute, looking around at us. I was busy with my camera, of course, trying to get everything. Cherie blew out the candle for him and handed him the cake. Well, just like you always see on TV and the movies, he went after that cake with both hands. He had no more idea of what that was all about than Beach did, but he had fun with it. He had that shit everywhere in a matter of a few seconds. I got pictures of every bit of it, too. After dinner, people were a lot more sober than they had been before dinner, that's for sure. Grandma and Grandpa took Rob back to the condo, and my parents and Tim's parents went on home, too. It was pretty early -- only about ten o'clock -- but some of the friends left, too. Some of them had been there ten or twelve hours by then, and they were ready to go. Not the kids, though. They all stayed, and we all got naked in the pool. All things considered, Independence Day, Justin's birthday, and Rob's birthday were a big success. I personally had a wonderful time, and, from the looks of everybody, they all did, too. The Fourth of July in Emerald Beach. You can't beat it.
Kyle took a whole bunch of pictures on the Fourth of July, mostly of Rob and the dogs. I looked at them with him, and some of them were absolutely stunning. "Are you thinking about another book?" I asked. "Yeah, I'm thinking about it because they're forcing me to," he said. "What do you mean?" I asked. "Look at these," he said, and he handed me three letters from his editor. One was actually from the executive editor, and she made no bones about the fact that they expect another book from him, and soon. "You've got some great pictures here," I said. "I think you have enough good ones for another book." "Will you help me again?" he asked. "Of course, I will. Let's pick them out," I said. Kyle and I got around the computer in the study, which is the one he always uses, and we put together a CD that has, probably, 200 pictures on it. The book will only have about 75 or 80 pictures, and he has plenty that are wonderful. The editor is going to have a hard time deciding. "Are Craig and Cherie okay with Rob being in a book?" I asked. "Oh, yeah. They love the idea," he said. "You know, I don't make all that much money on a book. You know that, don't you?" "Yeah," I said. "But Kyle, the thing is, how many guys your age have published books?" "I don't know. Plenty, maybe. I just don't know," he said. "I guess photography can be a lifetime hobby for me, can't it?" "Yeah. Sort of like training dogs for me," I said. "Speaking of that, those dogs were fabulous with the baby, weren't they?" he asked. Kyle rarely uses Rob's name. He almost always refers to him as "the baby," like he is the only baby in the world, or "our little boy." I don't think he could love Rob any more, even if he had fathered him himself. I just know that eventually Kyle will get him a baby, one way or the other. My work at the prison camp is interesting, to say the least. Teaching the guys how to train the dogs, and working with the dogs myself, is fun, but I'm coming into contact with some very, very interesting characters among the inmates. They call me "Mr. Brian," which I think is funny. Every one of them is older than I am, although there are some pretty young ones there, too, including a boy that I recognized from the fraternity parties Kyle has hosted at the house. "I know you, don't I?" I asked him. "Yes, sir. I've been to your house with Kyle and them," he said. "You don't have to say 'sir' to me," I said. "Yes, sir, he does, Mr. Brian," the guard who overheard us said. "They have to say 'sir' to everybody in authority." I started to object and to say that I know this guy, but I also know that's a rule. I ended up keeping my mouth shut with the guard. "So what did you do to get in here?" I asked him. "I violated my probation, or so they say. But it's a damn lie, Mr. Brian, sir," he said. "What were you on probation for?" I asked. "Controlled substances, which was another big mistake the first time it happened," he said. The guard had walked away by then. "Oh," I said. "Brian, let me ask you something," he said. "You're gay, aren't you?" "Yes, but you keep that to yourself," I said. He knew I'm gay. He had been to our house. "I will, Brian, but here's the thing. I'm so fucking horny I'm about to die. It's been weeks, man. Since you're gay and all, would you, like, . . . you know?" he asked. "Take care of me?" "I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that. That offends me very deeply, and the only reason I'm not going to have them haul your ass away from my training area is you know my brother Kyle. I don't know what they do to people here for sexual harassment, but you just crossed the line. I know I seem meek. Weak, even, but I'm not putting up with that shit. And if you do it again, I'm reporting you. And if you do it again, when you get out of here, my brothers are going to tear you a new asshole," I said. I was trembling, I was so angry. "Sorry, man. I just figured . . . ," he said. "I mean, Sean did it. Please don't tell Kyle about this, okay? Or Skeeter or any of 'em." "Break's over," I said coldly. I was still furious. A couple of the guys have real talent, and they happen to be brothers. Or half brothers. Or cousins. Or something. They're two young black men in their late teens or early twenties. I talked to them. "You guys seem to really know what you're doing," I said during a break. "Yes, sir, we've trained dogs before. Huntin' dogs, mostly," Lamar said. "Here?" I asked. "In Emerald Beach?" "No, sir. Up in Quincy. Our grandma's boyfriend trains 'em, and he taught us how," Lionel said. "He's Willie Williams. You ever hear of him?" "Yes. Mr. Mack Mixon, the man I work for training dogs, talks about him all the time. He's a legend in the Panhandle," I said. Willie Williams and Mack Mixon were both trained by the same man, a guy up in Sneads, Florida, when they were kids like me. I have never met Mr. Willie, but Mr. Mack considers him his brother and at least his equal in training dogs. "What did you guys do to get in here?" I asked. "Long story. A black man can't get a fair trial in Quincy, Florida, Mr. Brian," Lamar said. "Was the judge white?" I asked. "No, sir, he was black," Lamar said. "All-white jury?" I asked. "No, sir. All black," Lamar said again. "Lamar, don't pull on the man's dick. You know we done it, Bubba. Mr. Brian, we shoplifted," Lionel said. "More than once. We deserve to be here. My brother just will not admit that." "So, how long are you guys going to be here?" I asked. "Another year. That's if we behave ourselves," Lionel said. "Longer if we don't. Ain't that right, Lamar? We gonna behave ourselves, ain't we?" "Fuck you," Lamar said. "See, Mr. Brian. That's the attitude I got to put up with," Lionel said. "I'm gonna tell you something. Our grandma raised us better than this, too. It's just our sorry asses that got us in trouble. But I'm fixin' to get out of trouble. In about a year." "The reason I asked is, you guys are totally natural with the dogs. You're both dog men. Natural dog men. Would it be all right with y'all if I recommend that y'all become the trainers after I'm gone?" I asked. Lamar and Lionel both lit up cigarettes. Lionel offered one to me, but I declined. I've seen Justin and Kyle do the same thing, and I knew what was going on. They were both thinking, and lighting up cigarettes gave them a little extra time to think. "What you think?" Lamar asked Lionel. "It beats the shit out of road work, that's for damn sure," Lionel said. "That's what I was thinking, too," Lamar said. "Mr. Brian, if you'd do that, we'd be mighty grateful, sir," Lionel said. "I will," I said. "Let's get back to work." I really don't know where I'm going to end up in life. My intention is to stay with Justin my whole life, to become a doctor, and to move back to Emerald Beach to practice medicine. The job at that work camp gives me insights into human nature that I didn't even know were possible, and I think I'm really growing as a person because of that. I've had some problems in my life, but I've also had incredibly good luck. The men I teach at that prison camp have all the problems, or more, but none of the luck. I guess it's like a compassion thing. I talk about it with Tim, but I don't even bother talking about it with Justin and Kyle. It isn't that I don't think Justin and Kyle are capable of compassion because I know they are. It's just that their personalities don't lend themselves to talking about that kind of stuff. Tim understands, though.
Having your birthday on the Fourth of July is okay, I guess, but in our family it's really pretty good. I figure there's always going to be a party, whether for me or for the country, and the fact that Rob was born that same day makes it that much better. I can't believe the amount of money they gave me. I mean, sixty thousand dollars is obscene. For trailer trash like me? I know people who would go right out and blow the whole damn wad on a fancy car, and then never change the oil in it. Not me, though. I've learned some values, and I want that money to work for me. About midday on the Fourth of July, I caught up with Mr. Gene. "Mr. Gene, can I talk to you?" I asked. "Of course you can, Bubba. Any time. Let's get us a drink and go someplace quiet," he said. That wasn't going to be his first one of the day. Or mine, either. "What's on your mind? Investments?" he asked. "Yes, sir, that's exactly right," I said. "I was going to call you about that tomorrow, Son," he said. "That's a good bit of money you got this morning." "Yes, sir. To me it's a fucking fortune," I said. "Not yet it ain't, but it can turn into one," he said. "What do you recommend I do with it?" I asked. "The stock market ain't that good right now," he said. "I'd like to see you buy some property. Rental property," he said. "You mean like Kyle did?" I asked. "Exactly, Son. You can't afford as much as he got, but you can get you a couple of pieces of property with what you got today. Here's the thing. Kyle's got a steady income every month. You're going to have one, too, but you're going to need your income to live on. He can afford to make his monthly payments to the bank out of his income if he has to, but you're not going to be able to. So I'm thinking maybe two condos. Small ones that aren't all that expensive. It's a small start, Justin, but it's a start, Bubba," he said. I got pretty emotional just then. "Mr. Gene, you know where I came from," I said. "Don't start that, Justin, 'cause you're going to have me in tears. You ain't there any more, and you ain't been there for a long while, Bubba. This is a holiday, and it's also your fucking birthday, so let's celebrate. You're fixing to join the ranks of the Emerald Beach good ole boys, Son. You know Cliff Andrews, don't you? Philip's daddy?" he asked. "Yes, sir," I said. "We'll make you an appointment with Cliff to get you some property. He might recommend that you wait a few months. People are more prone to sell their stuff in the fall and winter then they are in the summer, when it's renting. Your guys are on the case, though, Bubba, and we'll take care of you," he said. I told Kevin and Rick what Mr. Gene and I had talked about. "I think that's an excellent idea," Kevin said. "In fact, Rick and I have been talking about buying some, too. Have you done anything about that yet, Babe?" "I talked to Cliff informally, and he said what Gene told Justin. The time to buy beach rental property is the off season, not now," Rick said. "That makes sense, I guess," Kevin said. "That's actually what Kyle did, isn't it?" "Yeah, and that stinker has had those places rented the entire summer, too. He told me the other day that he'll make enough, between Spring Break and the summer rentals, to make all of his payments. He's talking about buying more, too," Rick said. "Is he making any money on them, though?" Kevin asked. "What do you mean? I just said he was, Babe," Rick said. "I know he's making enough to cover his payments, but is he taking anything out of it? Is he making payments and having leftover cash?" Kevin asked. "Oh, I see what you mean. Now, that I don't know," Rick said. "But he's making money on the equity. That's for sure. Plus, he'll be able to depreciate the hell out of those places for taxes." I kind of knew what he was talking about because of the business course I had taken. It really is a long-term investment, but I look at the sixty thousand as a big part of mine and Brian's future. I really, really feel good about having that money, but I feel even better about the fact that my family thinks enough of me to give it to me. I know they're all rich, but still. I wonder how much Rob got. I figure that one is going to be another Kyle, as far as money goes, by the time he's Kyle's age. Kyle is very close-mouthed about his money, even with us, but I know it's because he doesn't want us to think he's bragging. But he's very generous with his money, and I figure about half the twenty thousand I got from my brothers came from him. I know Brian has money, so he might have put up a little bit, and the Townhouse Boys, too, but I would bet my right nut that the others didn't kick in a nickel. They're all too poor, except Tim, and his parents and his partner put up a lot. And really, most of what Tim has is what he earned at his job. We're a really strange bunch, that's for sure. We have everything from a multi-millionaire, Kyle, to a boy like Pete, who has to bum packs of cigarettes off me and lunch money off Brian at the end of a month. The thing is, Kevin and Rick have turned a bunch of rag-tag potential ruffians into a loving family. That is amazing to me. On July 5th, Mr. Gene called me on my cell to say he had set up an appointment with Mr. Cliff for me to talk to him about rentals. Mr. Cliff basically told me what Mr. Gene had said about waiting to buy, and that was okay with me. He sent me to the bank to meet Mr. Emery Cook. Mr. Emery was just as nice as the rest of 'em, and he fixed me up with some Certificates of Deposit, or CD's, as he called them. To me, a CD was something altogether different, but I had heard of Certificates of Deposit in my class at college. "Justin, I am so pleased to see you young boys getting into business here," Mr. Emery said. "Do you know Kyle Goodson?" "Yes, sir, he's my brother and my best friend," I said. He grinned. "Well, I guess you know Kyle's got some property, too," Mr. Emery said. "Yes, sir. I know Mr. Cliff called you for me to come see you, but do you know who called Mr. Cliff for me to see him?" I asked. "No, Justin. Cliff didn't say," he said. "Mr. Gene called Mr. Cliff," I said. "Okay. Gene Goodson. I thought I smelled his scent in all of this. Son, you'd best listen to Gene Goodson when it comes to money. He tends to be very conservative, but we all do. Politically, though, I don't know where Gene really stands. He's a big supporter of Bob Graham for President, and Senator Bob is pretty liberal, if you ask me. He was a hell of a governor, much better than this clown, JEB Bush, we've got in Tallahassee now, but I don't necessarily agree with Senator Bob on everything," Mr. Emery said. "Mr. Emery, I've never met any of those people, except Mr. JEB Bush when Kyle and Tim got their medals off him. But I trust Mr. Gene, and he knows JEB and President Bush and all those guys. If he tells me to vote for Bob Graham, I'm afraid I'm going to have to do it," I said. "And, son, that's the only thing you can do. Hell, I'll probably vote for Bob Graham, too. I might even chip in a buck or two. It's a good thing for a state to have a native son as President. George Bush and George W. Bush have done a world of good for Texas from the White House, that's for sure. It's about time Florida gets its share. And I doubt seriously that the people of this country will elect three Bushes as President. We'll see, though," he said. "Yes, sir, I guess we will," I said. I'm not the least bit interested in politics, and I really didn't know what this man was talking about. My gaydar was sounding off a little bit with him, though. "Well, Justin, it's been a pleasure meeting you, son, and it'll be a pleasure doing business with you, too." He stood up, so I figured we were through. "Yes, sir, Justin, Emerald Beach is going to be in good hands in the future, and I know Gene Goodson is steady seeing about that," he said. He took my right hand to shake it and put his left hand on my right bicep. "It looks like somebody's been working out here," he said. "Yes, sir. I work out a good bit," I said. "See, I've got to get back to it. I've let myself go, Justin. If you saw me naked, you'd probably turn your head in disgust," he said. "Well, uh, . . . " What the hell do you say to something like that? He walked me to the door, still shaking my hand and feeling my bicep. He opened the door. "Justin, feel free to drop in here anytime, you hear? Clara? Put this young man's name on the 'drop-in' list, please, ma'am," Mr. Emery said. "Yes, sir, Mr. Emery," Clara said. "Justin, I'm looking forward to seeing a lot more of you, son," Mr. Emery said, and I left. I went back to work. "Goodson, get over here," I said to Kyle. "What?" he asked. "I need to talk to you," I said. "I just came from the bank." "Did you deposit some of your birthday money in my account?" he asked. "Shut up, asshole. Do you know Mr. Emery Cook?" I asked. "Yeah. He's my banker. I reckon he's going to be yours, too," Kyle said. "I think that man wants to make a deposit . . . but in ME, not in the bank," I said. Kyle grinned. "What the hell are you talking about, boy?" "Kyle, I think the man is gay," I said. "So what if he is? He's married, and he's got two kids. Two girls. I know 'em," Kyle said. "He probably ain't gay." "Did he feel you up when you went to see him?" I asked. "What?" "You heard me, Kyle. Did he feel you up when you went to talk to him?" I asked. I was talking slow for emphasis. "No. What did he do to you?" Kyle demanded. He was talking serious. "He grabbed my arm like this when we were shaking hands," I said, and I demonstrated on Kyle what Mr. Emery had done. "Then he said, 'Somebody here's been working out.' Then he said he needs to get back to working out and that I would turn my head if I saw him naked. How about that?" "Is that it?" he asked. "Ain't that enough?" I asked. "Justin, maybe the man is gay. I don't know, and I don't care. Okay? But here's the thing, Bubba. You're very good looking, and, uh, your body is very appealing. Did you see if he had a hard-on?" Kyle asked. "I looked, but he didn't have one that I could see," I said. "Jus, he's a middle-aged man. He's probably a little bit jealous of us. You're twenty years old, and you were there with sixty thousand dollars. He probably didn't have that much when he was thirty, much less twenty. And I know he DAMN sure didn't look like you. But you know what the bottom line is?" Kyle said. "What?" I asked. "If he gets off tonight thinking about you, what do you care?" Kyle asked. I laughed. "Kyle, I'm going to say it once again. Don't you ever leave my side because I'm fucked if you ever do. I'll hunt you down and kill you," I said. "Yeah, but you'll have to catch me first," Kyle said. "I'll damn sure catch you, Kyle. I'll have Trixie on my side," I said. Like so many, many times before, he and I just laughed our asses off. |