WATCHING BRAD
Epilogue Part 3
“Hey, Pops,” Brad said one day as he came into the kitchen where I was preparing supper for the kids. He gave me a kiss on the cheek. Linday's wedding was still a few months away. He moved behind me and wrapped his arms around my waist, pressing himself against me. “Can I help?” He was later getting home than usual, but he had phoned me at work to tell me he’d be late. I didn't ask why.
“It’s all under control,” I told him. “Go put your feet up for awhile and relax.” He didn’t leave. He just pulled me closer. His crotch pressed into my backside and lodged itself in the cleft of my buttcheeks. “You’re making it very difficult for me to concentrate here, Tiger.”
In response, he said, “I found a place.” There was a moment's pause before he added, "For Baie Dankie."
I set down the spatula and twisted around to face him, wrapping my own arms around him. His green eyes and face and chipped-tooth smile glowed with excitement, so much so that I forgot entirely that we were crotch to crotch.
“It’s perfect,” he continued. “It’s just what I’ve been looking for and it’s everything I need. Do you remember Brannigan’s?”
“The old building supply place on out Tauntin?” Brad nodded. “I didn’t know it was closed.”
“It isn’t yet. Mr. Brannigan is selling out. His daughter got a nursing job in PEI and he and his wife want to move there to be close to the grandkids. Sort of like your mom and dad moving here from Crystal Beach. He's been trying to get someone to buy him out of the whole business, but no takers yet. He's only had two offers in a year and a half and neither of them want the supplies and equipment. They only want the land for development.
“So why are you interested?”
“Don’t you see, Pops? It has just about everything I would need to get Baie Dankie off the ground. They’ve got the trucks and forklifts, excavators, Bobcats, dump trucks and flatbeds with loading cranes, and all sorts of building supplies I could use. It would be a real head start if I could get all that, and Brannigan's getting desperate. My agent told me he's closing up shop by the end of summer if he doesn't sell. All the supplies and equipment will be going up for auction before winter. If I'm buying the whole shebang, I might be able to get it at a really good price.”
“I hadn’t thought of that,” I said. “Smart. Have you talked to Bill yet?”
“No, but I’m going to call him and invite him to go with us to see it this weekend. Nathan, too. Oh! That reminds me. Do you remember Spencer’s last name? I want to call him, too.”
“To design Baie Dankie?”
“If he’s willing to take on the challenge,” Bad replied. “That building needs a lot of work to look less like a concrete bunker. We never had any complaints with Spencer when he did our house, and we both like him. If it works out, I could have a lot more work for him if he’s willing to expand his horizons a bit from kitchens and livingrooms to decks and and patios and pergolas and gazebos.”
“I don’t remember his name,” I admitted, “but I’m sure his number is still in my phone. It’s over there on the island. Now, let me get back to supper or we’ll all be eating charcoal crunchettes for supper tonight.”
Saturday afternoon found us driving to Brannigan’s with an appointment to meet Brad’s agent and ‘Branny’ Brannigan, the owner, and his agent. Brad drove. Spencer and his son, Brendon, rode with us in the back behind the twins. Lindsay decided to go to the market with John and Bernice. Bill and Warren followed us in their own car. Nathan had left his car at our place and rode with them.
Brad’s agent met us there on Saturday at the entrance. Following introductions, Victor took us inside to meet Branny and his agent, Erik. Erik took us on a tour of the place, answering questions and pointing out particular items. He even took us to the back with its offices, bathrooms, coffee and lunch rooms, and a few other rooms which could be turned into just about anything we wanted or needed to make of them. Lastly, he took us on a tour of the yard and the outdoor storage warehouses.
Brad’s excitement was more than just a little bit obvious. It reminded me of that day so long ago when we wandered around Niagara Falls together. Moreso even than the moment I pulled out condoms for him. Bill, for the most part, stayed quiet, but I could see that he was listening intently to Victor’s commentary and soaking up as much information as he could while taking photographs of just about everything. Warren was uncharacteristically quiet, but we heard a few mutterings of "mon dieu" and 'merde'. Spencer spent his time making copious notes in a notebook, taking mental measurements and lots of photographs, and making many quick sketches of the layout.
The boys, especially Jeremy, took a keen interest in the equipment which passed by here and there around the yard from time to time. “Can I have a ride on that?” Jeremy asked as a forklift with a pallet of concrete blocks went by.
"Not today," Brad told him with a humoured grin.
Jeremy just looked up at him and, in all seriousness, said, "Tomorrow?"
Nathan's brain, I'm sure, was whizzing away at supersonic speed working the numbers in his head in a way that only a person with his computer-like brain could do without a computer.
I think if we had allowed Nathan to move in with us, he would have jumped at the chance with no hesitation at all. I think he would have slept in the bathtub if we didn’t have a bed for him. He loved the family, but he loved his godsons the more than anything. He had completely and undeniably devoted himself to them.
By the time the new house was nearing completion, Nathan had made it clear that he wanted to design, decorate, and furnish the boys' bedroom and he refused any financial assistance on our part. And he wouldn't tolerate any input from us. Only from Justin and Jeremy. After all, it was their room, not ours.
The walls were painted in blue and green tones, a nod to the T-shirts they wore when they were in foster care to tell them apart. Their bed was an L-shaped bunk with a double on top placed long side against the wall and the bottom bunk, a single for sleepover guests, was placed perpendicular to the wall at the foot end of the upper bunk. A ladder from the floor the top bunk offered a way to get into bed but a floor-to-ceiling fireman's pole made for a quick, easy, and fun way for the boys to get out of bed.
When they outgrew their ‘little boy’ bedroom a few years later , Nathan jumped right in and created a whole new and more mature bedroom to match their age. We donated their bunk bed and matching dressers to a local charity shop. For some reason, Justin wanted to keep the pole but we convinced him to give it to another boy to have fun with.
Nathan did it again when the boys hit double digits in age and updated the bedroom to a more teenage status. His final redesign came when Lindsay moved out on her own and Jeremy moved into her room, He redid Lindsay's room to suit Jeremy’s quiet, introverted personality and horticultural hobbies. Justin’s room matched his more extroverted, athletic, sporty personality. Nathan loved every minute of it and didn’t begrudge a single penny he spent on them. He would make a good father if not an overindulgent one.
It would have been nice if the boys had stayed in the same bedroom together as I had hoped they might, but we couldn’t deny them their independence and privacy. I couldn’t pretend they hadn’t changed, that they weren’t entirely dependent on each other anymore. They were becoming their own persons with their own individual lives and personalities, and they deserved to be treated as such.
I still think Nathan missed his calling as a chef, but I understand why he didn’t go that route. It was one evening when Lindsay was still living at home and Nathan had cooked dinner for us that he explained it to me. “When I see you guys eating what I cook,” he said, “I can see how much you are enjoying it. Especially the kids. I wouldn’t see those smiles and their wide eyes if I was a chef in a restaurant kitchen. And children looking up at me with bright, happy faces and wide eyes and even wider smiles and holding their plates up for seconds makes me forget all the work I put into making it. I wouldn’t give that up for any amount of money, Ted. This,” he said, indicating the three kids who were happily chowing down on his hand-made chicken strips dipped in plum sauce with hand-made wedge fries dipped in a puddle of ketchup on their plate, all complimented by an inordinate amount of lip smacking and finger slurping. “This is worth all the money in the world. You couldn’t pay me enough to miss this.” That’s what he said, but both Brad and I believe he did it for the hugs and kisses he always got afterwards from his appreciative diners.
Nathan had quit his job in Toronto and joined Brad in building Baie Dankie Landscaping from the ground up. He got Brannigan's, of course, and set about making it the business of his dreams. Between Nathan's savings and Barry’s promotions in the police force, he had enough money set aside to work with Brad for several months without pay to get the company up and running. As he did, he had overseen the transformation of the building supply operation into a landscaping enterprise complete with nurseries, greenhouses, and storefront.
Although Brad alone hired the staff, Nathan took care of virtually everything else. Brad had only to tell him what he wanted and Nathan would figure out a way to give it to him. Only when Baie Dankie was in full swing and the money started rolling in regularly did Nathan finally accept payment for his position as manager. Brad was still the boss, of course, but it was Nathan who handled everything in the yard, allowing Brad to keep the projects going in the field, meeting clients old and new, and druming up more business and coming up with new ideas to make Baie Dankie an all-season landscaping business and outlet.
It had been Nathan’s idea early on to hire an up-and-coming PR firm in the city to promote the new business. With all the competition in the city, it needed a professional touch for Brad to get his foot in the door. It took a few years, lots of work, and a lot of dedicated hours, but it had happened. Bill and his fellow investors were extremely pleased with the way the business was headed. The money they had spent on the PR firm had been well-spent, as had the money to hire an advertising company to handle the various media and a full-time website builder to look after the online website. He was young, barely out of his teens, but he was brilliant and quickly became a valued member of Brad's team, even if he did look like a surfer dude.
Spencer, the young father who had so skillfully designed and decorated our new house, agreed to design and decorate Baie Dankie. He had received his certificate a year after working for us on the house and began working freelance in Toronto. He quickly gained a reputation of not limiting himself to any single style, but being able to figure out what the client wanted and giving it to them.
A year after graduating, Spencer’s wife, Jackie, found a new job in Spencer’s home town of Pickering. Both Spencer and their son, Brendon, were eager to make the move, not only to avoid a daily commute for Jackie, but to get out of the city. For the price of the two-room apartment he rented in Toronto, Spencer was able to pay the mortgage on an entire four-bedroom, two-bathroom house with a front and back yard, a driveway, and a two-car garage with a basketball hoop attached above one of the garage doors. Being a freelance designer, Spencer could work just as easily in Pickering as he could in Toronto since much of his work could be done in his home office.
Spencer jumped at the chance to redesign the main building. It was his biggest job to date. Originally, he was contracted to design the offices and storefront of Baie Dankie Landscaping, but Brad later asked him to design the outside façade as well to make it look more appealing and welcoming. He wanted the customers and visitors to feel welcome, to feel like they were in South Africa, as the name implied.
When Spencer called to make an appointment to show his completed sketches to Brad, Brad asked Spencer to bring his family over for dinner to present them to us as a group. Nathan, of course, would be the chef. Brad also invited David, who would be doing the construction, and Brook was welcome to come if he wished. He did. David and Spencer had seen each other during the house build but they had never been formally introduced to each other.
Everyone arrived that night except for Barry. He was busy playing cop. Introductions were made and, when it was ready, Nathan served dinner for everyone. After dessert, coffee and tea were served for the grown-ups and the kids got their choice of soft drink. The boys went to the den to play. Brook took his mug of coffee and Jackie her cup of loose leaf tea (as close to ‘elevated’ as Brad could get it) and adjourned to the den to sit on the sofa in front of the fireplace to chat and to share life stories. Lindsay went to her bedroom undoubtedly to talk to Daniel on her phone. She did that a lot back then.That left us to our business in the kitchen.
Spencer’s hair was longer than before and pulled back into a short pony tail, but it was still as black as ever. His piercing eyes were made even more piercing by the thick eyebrows and long lashes. He still sported that neatly-trimmed scruff and wore the same tight jeans that only someone like him could get away with wearing. His hearing aids were still quite visible even though technology had made them smaller, but he never seemed ashamed of them and never tried to hide them. He was still one of the best and sexiest husbands and fathers I’ve ever known, except for Brad, of course.
We had eaten in the diningroom, but sat in the breakfast nook to go over the sketches. Spencer sat on a chair at the end of the table. Brad sat on the bench to his right with me sitting on the inside next to Brad. David sat across from Brad, his back to the den, and Nathan sat across from me. Spencer spread out the sketches in front of him but turned them toward us so we could all see them. There were three different designs for the exterior and three more for the interior. He went over each of them individually and very thoroughly.
When he finished and Brad began studying the sketches with me looking on, I heard David say, “Spencer, would you mind if I tell you that you smell incredible and that you’re one of the most gorgeous and sexy men I’ve ever seen?” When I looked up, he had that enchanting smile of his plastered on his mature but youthful face.
“No,” Spencer replied politely and smiled, “I don’t mind. Thank you, but I’m married.”
David, still smiling, held up his left hand with his fingers splayed and the back facing Spencer, displaying his wedding band. “So am I,” he said as he put his hand back down on the table again. “But just because we’re both married shouldn’t mean that I can’t compliment you when you deserve it.”
Spencer smiled shyly and said, “Then I thank you again most humbly, and, if I might add, you and your husband make a very handsome couple.”
“Thanks,” David returned, “but I really meant it. You look stunning, especially with that scruff. I wish I could grow it like that.”
Spencer shrugged one shoulder and flicked his eyebrows. “I guess it’s in the genes. I got them from my father.”
David leaned to his right so he could look into Spencer’s lap, then sat back up. He looked at Spencer eye to eye and asked, “Did he look as good in them as you do?”
"Wrong jeans, David," I told him.
"Pah-tay-toes pah-tah-toes," David replied. "You admire the genes you can't even see and I'll admire the jeans right here +in front of my eyes. Well, I can see them if I lean to the right and bend over a bit like this." He repeated his moves from a few moments earlier, demonstrating for us. There was nothing shy about David.
Nathan and I burst out laughing, but Spencer just smiled and his ears turned red, but then he looked at me and, with a jerk of his head in David’s direction, asked, “Is he always like this?”
“Only with his best friends,” I assured him, still chuckling.
He looked back at David who was still grinning widely. “How can I be your friend already?” he asked. “You just met me.”
“Because you’re their friend,” David replied, nodding toward us. “That’s all I need.”
The banter probably would have continued, but Brad interrupted. “These ones,” he said. He held one interior and one exterior sketch in his hand. “I like these.” Spencer quietly scooped the other sketches into a pile and slipped them into the satchel on the floor at his side.
It was the storefront exterior which captivated Brad. I recognised it. It was definitely South African architecture. Spencer had done his homework. The two small windows, one on either side of the glass double doors facing the street had been replaced with four arched and mullioned windows in South African style. Two large railroad sleeper planters extended from either side of the doors to the front corners of the building. Brad could plant them however he wished. Two more arched windows on either side of the building would flood the storefront area with natural light as did the arched transom which Stewart had designed for over the double front doors. A pillared portico sheltered the entrance.
"The windows and doors," Stewart explained, "are plate glass. The mullions in the windows, like the windows here in this house, are fake so you can choose any design you wish, but I would recommend the squares. They're more South African. The diamond shape like your windows here are more Tudor-style."
"He's right," I told Brad.
The façade was clad in sandstone siding, a popular and naturally plentiful building material in South Africa. The style and colour would ultimately be decided upon by Brad. The sides and back would be done in textured stucco much like our own home except that it would be done with complimentary earthy and nature tones. Each office and room now had a window. Even the bathrooms had a small window to let in natural light. The door in the back wall was enlarged, opening onto a new window-enclosed wooden porch with an open doorway instead of the disintegrating concrete stoop which was not only ugly, but not entirely safe. Three wooden steps led down the ground level and the existing buildings behind and beside the building.
The front of the hip-style roof now contained five UV-protected skylights, flooding the storefront with even more natural sunlight while helping with temperature control. The side roofs now had two small gables on each side. A large cupola straddled the peak. A bronze weathervane topping the cupola featured a trumpeting mother elephant leading her calf through the Savannah. The roof itself was clad in flat, light-coloured tiles of some material or other.
When I saw the weathervane, I said, "Uh oh. There's an 'O' instead of an 'E'."
"They're compass points in Afrikaans, Ted," Spencer explained. "Noorde, Oeste, Suide, and Weste. I hope I'm pronouncing them properly."
"I wouldn't know," I admitted to him. "I don't think I've ever heard Dad speak them."
I felt like such an idiot for not knowing that and even more of an idiot that Spencer had bothered to research South Africa in such depth. He knew more about my heritage than I did.
(Later, when I showed Dad the finished architectural drawings of Baie Dankie, he stared at them for a long time, running his fingers over the paper, tracing the outlines of the arched windows and the weathervane. "It is just like home, Theodore," he said. "Magnificent." Mom agreed.)
Spencer walked us through the interior sketches, easily answering all of our questions and assuring us, especially Brad, that everything could be changed to suit him. In the end, Brad looked at Spencer and said, “I had no idea what I wanted. That’s why I hired you. And you’ve just shown me exactly what I want.” He turned the sketches around for David and asked him, “Can you do this?”
David gave the sketches a more detailed scan now that they were right-side up for him and said, “Well, first off, you’re going to need steel lintels over the front windows, Brad, and you’re going to need a crane to hoist them. You're going to need healthy beams to hold up those walls and they're going to be as heavy as hell."
"I've got cranes, remember?" Brad told him.
"Gonna need a few more bodies, too. I hope you've got the budget for a couple of good, strong, hard-working guys. Other than that, yeah, you hire a crew for me and I can build it all. I can't wait to get my hands on that sandstone. I love working with sandstone.”
“We’ll hire the crew together, David,” Brad told him, “but feel free to suggest anyone you want.”
“Then I want Hutch to be my right-hand man,” David said almost to himself.
“Who’s Hutch?” I asked.
David looked at me and answered, “Oh, did I say that out loud? Tyler Hutchison. A guy I worked with when we were building your house. He was the guy who was kissing my ass in that picture I took for Brook.” We all started to laugh, except Spencer who hadn’t seen the photo. David quickly explained it to him and summed it all up with, “Hey, you soon become good friends with someone who kisses your ass in broad daylight on a construction site and lets somebody take a picture of it.” Spencer laughed with us that time.
“If you want him,” Brad said, “call him up and tell him he’s got a job with you if he wants it.”
“What about the interview?” David asked.
“You just gave it, David,” Brad responded. “If you want him, that’s good enough for me. Call him up and tell him he’s got a job with you when we’re ready to hire him.”
David didn’t hesitate. He pulled out his cell phone and, within seconds, was speaking into it. “Hey, Hutch, it’s me, Davey. Look, buddy, you know that job I’ve got now working for my friend?.... Yeah, the landscaper. How would you like to work with me?.... Yeah, I’m serious, man. Brad wants you to work for him and you’ll be on my crew.... Well, how does ‘second in command’ sound?.... No, you idiot. Not of the business. Just my crew.... No, you don’t have to kiss anyone’s ass unless you want to. You’ve got the job already. Do you want it or not?” David laughed at something Hutch said but he never told us what it was. “Okay, cool, buddy. It shouldn’t be long. A couple of weeks, maybe. We’ll give you plenty of time so you can give Cam notice.... Okay, thanks, Hutch. I’ll be in touch.... Yeah, bye.”
David disengaged and looked at Brad and me, his face lit up with a huge grin and sparkling eyes. “Well, son of a bitch,” he said proudly. “What do you know? I’ve got myself a fuckin’ crew!”
“You’ve only got one man, David,” Nathan reminded him. "You need more than one to count as a crew."
“Yeah, well, that’s one more man than I had before dessert.” Then he looked over his shoulder toward the den, “Hey, Brook! I’m gonna be a boss!”
“Attaboy!” came Brook’s booming base.
“Not quite, David,” Brad cut in. “I want Spencer to supervise the renovations with Nathan. You'll be working under him” He looked at Spencer and asked, “Would you like to?”
"I'm sorry, Brad," Spencer said. "I couldn't hear everything you said. Could you repeat it, please?"
Brad did, looking directly at Spencer instead of David this time. Spencer readily accepted.
“Hey, Brook!” David shouted out again. “I’m gonna be a boss under my boss’s boss's boss!”
Even Brook and Jackie joined us laughing at that one.
David and Brook were married in a small ceremony ceremony in the same church where Brad and I were married. Their marriage happened one month to the day after David's Oath of Citizenship Ceremony in Ottawa. John and Bernice had looked after the kids for us so Brad and I could attend. I swear that David stood a foot taller that day and his chest had expanded several sized. I know for a fact, though that he had shed a few tears. He told us after the ceremony that he had never felt more proud He maintained his American citizenship but, to this day, he has never set foot on American soil again and has no desire to do so.
Brook's father was Jamaican. His mother Canadian. Brook was born Canadian. His younger brother was born four years later. The family lived in Toronto and, when Brook turned seventeen, after he graduated high school, he set out on his own. He had been working at a well-known fast-food joint featuring a pair of arches since he was fourteen and, despite being a rather quiet and shy youth, Brook found he was suited to serving the public and life opened up to him. The next year, he found a new job in the clothing store where he still works. He'd always known he was gay. His brother figured it out, but his parents didn't and he never told them. He took an apartment on Church Street, just around the corner from The Village. He and David still live there.
Brook's parents moved back to Jamaica taking his little brother, Albert, with them the year after Brook moved out on his own.
Sadly, Brook's parents refused to attend when he invited them to his wedding. Actually, it's Brook's father who refused. His mother was forbidden to attend. Considering Jamaican attitudes toward homosexuality in those times, Brook didn't really expect them to attend, but he was somewhat surprised when they disowned him completely and told him he was no longer their son. As David explained to us later, they had been happy and excited about the wedding until Brook told them that he was gay and that he was marrying another man. They became even more angry when he told them that David was white. This seemed very odd to Brook since his father was black and his mother was white. After that phone call, he never spoke to his parents again.
Still, there was a bright side to it all, if it can be called a bright side considering the dark clouds surrounding it. Brook's younger brother, Albert, was appalled when he heard his parents disowning him. Apparently he was most disturbed when his father told Albert that he no longer had a brother. Albert secretly phoned Brook and told him, "I want to come. I want to be there with you. Can you help me?"
Brook was only too happy to pay for Albert's return tickets and to put him up on their sofa while he was here.
We met Albert before the wedding when he came with David and Brook to have dinner with our family. He was a good head taller than Brook and considerably slimmer. His skin was a bit darker and a scar crossed his left cheek. Except for the scar, he reminded me of a taller version of Olympic sprinter Andre De Grasse. Still, it was clear that he and Brook were brothers, and it was even more clear that they were very close. Albert was completely accepting of his brother's sexuality and his relationship with David. He actually got along well with David and matched him joke for joke when it came to each other's height, especially when they stood beside each other. "How's the air down there?" asked the tall one. "You might want to consider using a deodorant," replied the short one.
It was all in fun, of course, and it became blatantly clear very early on that Albert was a hugger. He hugged everyone he met, and those he knew could expect a hug at any time whether or not there was a reason for it. I really liked Albert. He was such a kind, gentle soul. It's no wonder he got allong so well with David.
Albert, of course, stood with Brook at his wedding. I stood with David.
Unfortunately, that trip ended Albert's relationship with his parents as well. They wouldn't have anything to do with him when he returned home just because he had defended his older brother's lifestyle simply by attending his marriage to David. Brook was upset and offered to bring Albert back to Canada, but Albert declined, at least until he finished school.
Sadly, during party following his graduation ceremony, tempers flared between two gang factions and quickly turned into violence when a gunshot rang out and a window was smashed. Knives and guns were drawn. Blades flashed and bullets flew around the reception hall. People screamed. Most party goesrs ran. Some even managed to make it to the doors. Most just dropped to the floor, covered their heads, and hoped that the gang members shot each other instead of them. Albert, apparently, pushed his date to the floor and covered her body with his. He was shot in the back of the head. He died instantly.
Brook's aunt called him to tell him the news about the death of his brother. She told him that she had talked to her own brother, Brook's father, to ask what they were planning to do for his son's funeral. His father said, "I don't have a son." And then he hung up the phone.
Brook flew to Jamaica to bring his brother back to Canada for burial, but he went alone. David wanted desperately to go with him, not only to keep him company but to watch out for him and protect him. Brook insisted that he stay in Canada, that together, they would 'scream' couple. The danger was just too great and Brook wasn't prepared to risk David's like when it was safer for him to go alone. He could get in and out again before anyone figured out that he wasn't a native, not to mention being gay. You would never know just by looking at hm. Only the sight of him walking down the street hand-in-hand with David would start the alarm bells ringing.
Of course, Brad and I attended Albert's funeral. No one from his family made an appearance except his maternal grandmother, Eileen, who flew in from Dartmouth, Nova Scotia, where she lived. She was a dear. It was clear that she adored both her grandsons and kept a stiff upper lip during the funeral. She sat between Brook and me, holding each of our hands. Brad sat to my right. David to Brook's left. But even I could see the sadness and pain in her eyes for Albert, confirmed by her grip on my hand. "I was supposed to die first," she said quietly at one point. "A grandmother should not have to bury her grandson."
Eileen had taken a liking to David from the moment they met. At the reception following the funeral, she told him several times how cute he was, all the while insisting that he call her Granny like Brook always did. She also assured both of them that, no matter what her daughter and son-in-law may do or say, she would never turn her back on them. I only knew Eileen for a few hours, but I began to think of her as my grandmother, too. She is still going strong at eighty-seven.
As usual, when Brook arrived at our house for dinner that night, he was finely coiffed and nattily dressed. He still sings once a week or so at the lounge where we met him when he rescued Brad from the forward young man in the bathroom who thought Brad's crotch was his for the taking. His rich, full voice still wows his audiences and fans, and we're still his biggest fans.
David was... well... David: faded jeans and T-shirt and sneakers when he wasn't wearing steel-toed work boots. David hasn't changed since the day we met except that he fills out his T-shirts a bit more than he did before. He may be small, but there's still a hell of a lot of man packed inside that body. He hasn't had to prove to us that he's just as good as the next guy despite his height, but his high-energy personality and lightning-quick wit can be a bit overwhelming at times.
In 'proving himself', I'm speaking, of course, of the incident early in our friendship when he took on Barry in an arm-wrestling challenge and exerted himself into a heat stroke trying to beat a cop considerably taller and wider than he was. That was the first time I saw David in his underwear. I thought he was sexy as hell back then and he's even sexier now. I've had ample opportunities to see him in his underwear since that day a decade ago, mostly in our swimming pool. I've even seen him naked once. Granted, he had lost the gym shorts he'd borrowed from Justin when he dove into the pool from the diving board. Granted, the visibily wasn't the best what with the ripples and reflections, but it was a nice boost for the imagination on my part.
It's no secret that I've always had a thing for each Barry. Heck, we had even jerked off in front of each other and orgasmed together (me on my belly and Barry on my bedroom floor) when Brad was in Thunder Bay. There have been plenty of opportunities to see Barry naked since than, with or without clothes and with or without an erection. When it's just Barry, Nathan, Brad, and me, clothing is verboten in both our swimming pool and the hot tub that is on the outdoor, rooftop patio attached to our bedroom.
I suppose it's no secret that I've always had a thing for David, too. I don't think I've been very subtle about that. I'm not sure why. When I look at Brad and Barry with their blatant masculinity and bulk, David is so not like them. But maybe he is. It's just stuffed in a smaller package. More compact. Maybe it's his free spirit or his intoxicating personality. Maybe it's his self-ashuredness or his being such a free spirit. Perhaps a combination of any or all of those. All I know is that I would be hard-pressed to choose between the two if both Barry and David stood before me offering themselves to me to do with as I please for one night. I don't know who I would choose.
All this is a lead-up to my fortieth birthday. It was supposed to be a surprise party, but the party planner, none other than chipped-tooth, green-eyed Bradley Nelson Hayes, was the one to let the cat out of the bag. I had told him long before my birthday arrived in October that I didn't want a party. I was feeling bad enough as it was, turning forty, so when the day came and went with nothing more than a cake bought from a local bakery and a few gifts, I was happy.
So, when we woke up the following Saturday, the sun was shining and it was unseasonably warm. I told Brad and the boys that I wanted to take them to our favourite biking trail at a provincial park about an hour or so to the east of the city, Brad suddenly blurted out, "We can't, Pops. I mean, we have to be here at two for your party!"
If Jeremy had had a throw pillow in his hand at that moment, I'm sure he would have thrown it at his father and hit him square in the face.
End of Part 3
