I've Always Loved You, Mike

I've Always Loved You Chapter 13 Hooray for Hollywood Author: Eric McQueen (mcqueen.richarderic@gmail.com) Adult Readers, Sexual Situations, Sex

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Hooray for Hollywood

That screwy ballyhooey Hollywood Where any office boy or young mechanic can be a panic With just a good-looking pan And any barmaid can be a star maid If she dances with or without a fan...

The party was great. The conversations were stimulating, and the food was so damned delicious, and Mike Cox had pulled out all the stops. The soft jazz in the background could be heard yet we could hear each other clearly. We didn't have to raise our voices to speak while battling overwhelming music. There were the many trays that were carried by many servers that were very good. One with a single peeled and deveined shrimp over which something covered it and that was covered by caviar that were solid black, so I knew it was Beluga Caviar. Mark took three and put them on the small plate we each had. I gave Mark a glare.

"What?" Mark saw my expression and asked as he bit in one.

"Those are for everybody," I shook my head, but smiled. "You take one at a time."

"And whose fault is that?" Mark asked as he chewed a few seconds and swallowed, "In some cultures, it's a compliment to clean your plate."

I nodded, "And in others, if you hand a plate back without leaving a little behind...you insult the host telling them enough hadn't been provided!"

"What culture!?" Mark asked almost demanding.

"Japan, China..."

"Are we there!?" Mark asked, "When we go to Tokyo or Beijing remind me of that...and show me where that's law and I'll obey it. These are passed around for everyone to take. I took. Besides there were plenty left on the tray." He pointed to the two left on the small plate, "These are very good and it's a compliment!"

"Always with loopholes, aren't you?" Mike grinned.

Mark shrugged, "There sometimes are. You just have to find them."

We'd been there about two and a half hours when everyone heard, "Dad! PopE! Where are you?" Scanning the room Chet spotted us and proceeded to run for us. He wasn't crying, but clearly upset. He threw his arms around Mike's waist.

"Chet? What's wrong?" Mike asked.

Mike Cox came over to see what was wrong. Michelle came towards us.

"It was Caleb, Daddy," she reported to her father. "He said some very bad things to Chet."

"Caleb!?" Mike Cox asked surprised, "But he was staying in his room. Where was Mrs. Cunningham?"

"One of the boys got sick and threw up on himself," Michelle replied. "So, she took him to the bathroom to clean him up."

Mike Cox hurried around Michelle and hurried to the game room where they were entertaining the children of his guests, followed by Mark and me. If Caleb had said something bad to Chet the other boy could be in danger. Another couple came with us. She was one of the Sound Engineers and her husband.

We got to the room and saw the two boys that were brothers and the boy who looking through the titles to play when we got here. Mrs. Cunningham had returned with the boy who threw up and cleaned him up as the shirt he had on was wet. There was another boy in there now about fourteen or fifteen. He had Mike Cox's build budding and he resembled his father.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Cox," Mrs. Cunningham said pleading. "Ethan ate too fast and threw up. He's not sick, but I took him to the bathroom," she pointed to a door on the game room wall, "to clean him up. I was gone fifteen to twenty minutes. I had the door open and didn't hear Caleb come in. He must have talked softly because until Chet was yelling at him. I didn't know what was happening."

The Sound Engineer rushed to the little boys, but mostly Ethan.

Mike Cox went towards his son. I could tell what the big problem was; both of Caleb's eyes were extremely bloodshot. His mind was flying higher than a kite! His face had that contented look as he enjoyed a comfortable oblivion. Mike Cox took Caleb's face in one hand turned Caleb to force him to look at his father, "What did you say to Chet?" He demanded.

Caleb's face scrunched, "Who?" He thought and remembered something, "Oh, that red-headed kid that left?" He smiled and shook his head. "I just asked him some questions."

"What sort of questions?" Mike Cox shook Caleb to keep him focused.

"I don't remember," Caleb chuckled and spoke. Oblivion.

"He asked Chet about his fathers," Michelle answered. "He asked Chet since he had two gay fathers, did that mean Chet was gay? Then he asked if Chet had ever seen them have sex and which of his fathers took it up the ass. Then he asked if they ever did it to him."

As Michelle was telling what Caleb said, Mike Cox's eyes grew. He turned back to Caleb, "What is wrong with you? I know you're high, but why would you say that to Chet?"

"I was just teasing him," Caleb grinned practically incoherent.

Mike Cox grabbed his son by the collar and forcing him forward as Caleb staggered, "I'll be right back." Caleb struggled some, but he was so stoned he thought it was funny and smiled and chuckled.

"I need to tell Mike what happen," I touched Mark's arm as he nodded in agreement.

We went back to the party where Mike had sat on the couch and had Chet beside him as he spoke to Chet quietly. Those at the party were looking on concerned but gave father and son privacy and room.

I sat on the other side of Chet but explained it to Mike.

"Chet," I began, "but that boy was just being mean."

"Why?" Chet asked sadly.

"He thought he was being funny," I answered.

"But it wasn't funny," Chet said folding his arms over his chest angrily. "He was acting all weird."

"I've told you about drugs," Mike said. "Hasn't your school?"

"Many times," Chet replied.

"Good," Mike smiled. "Caleb had used drugs."

"That's why he was acting all weird," I said. "It will make you do some odd things."

"He was worse than Grandpa and Grandma," he said irritated.

That's when Mike Cox returned. He came over and leaned towards us, but mostly Chet. "I am so sorry Caleb did this. I can't apologize enough. He is my eldest son. His mother and I had a bitter divorce about six years ago and the children got caught in the crossfire. She is an alcoholic and...some other things. The children saw a lot of their mother's bad behavior. I had to go to court to get exclusive custody of the kids. Caleb saw the most and try as I may, I can't get him to stop using."

I nodded, "He may be medicating himself to deal with the pain he feels."

Mike Cox's eyes widened, "That's what his Psychiatrist said. It took two weeks with two sessions a week for him to say that."

Mike chuckled, "His father was a Psychiatrist and Eric just picked it up."

"Have you considered inpatient treatment to deal with the drugs and deal with the pain he feels?" I asked.

"I didn't want to do that," Mike Cox admitted. "I wasn't going to abandon him."

"Is that the best thing for Caleb?" I asked and then shook my head. "It doesn't matter because things will only get worse if you don't get him off the drugs and you deal with the situation."

Mike Cox's widened again, "I paid three hundred dollars an hour to hear his doctor say that!"

I shrugged, "It was a lucky guess. You already know he needs help." I smiled at him. "I'm sure you could find a good rehabilitation and counseling camp for teenagers. They can deal with his drug use and emotional issues in a survivalist setting outdoors."

"Dr. Parker said that, too!" Mike Cox's head went back an inch in amazement. "Why did I waste money with Dr. Parker?"

Mike squeezed Chet with affection, "Because good parents will do anything and spare no expense for their children."

Mike Cox nodded, "That's right." He smiled. "Again, Chet, I am so sorry about what Caleb said to you."

Chet shrugged, "That's okay. I had fun before that. I like Michelle, she's very nice. We played several games."

Mike Cox smiled, "I'm glad."

My Mike looked at his watch and then looked at Chet, "It's past your bedtime. I'm surprised your legs aren't telling you to go to bed now."

"They are, but I was having fun," he shrugged.

Mike looked beside him at Mark, "Call Inga, please."

"On it," Mark said digging his phone out and hit one button. He had Inga on speed dial?

"What Caleb did was stupid," Mike Cox urged us as we rose to leave. "What he said was very inappropriate, but he is not homophobic. He has close friends that..."

I touched Mike Cox's arm, "It's fine. They were just words."

"Chet has endured it before with his grandparents," Mike muttered. "And he got it at school once. He needs to develop a thicker skin."

"It will happen again," Mark said sadly. "It's a shame he has to have a thick skin."

Mike Cox nodded again, "That's why we're doing this movie! To get people accustomed to it."

"The party was great," I said. "You've got a beautiful home..."

"The food was delicious!" Mark said quickly. "What were those little toasted round things that tasted sweet and cheesy at the same time?"

"Oh," Mike Cox grinned. "Blue cheese and pears. I guess you liked them."

"I did!" Mark said enthusiastically, "They were like these mini muffins of cheese and that sweet taste was," he kissed the tips of his fingers did the Italian hand movement when they said, "Delizioso!"

Mike Cox chuckled and said, "I'm sure they have some left. Perhaps a container of a dozen or two to take home?"

"Would you?" Mark asked hopefully.

"Certainly," Mike Cox laughed. The party was still going on and there was no doubt it would go beyond midnight, but we had an eight-year-old who would be asleep any minute now. Mike Cox walked to a server who was heading back to the kitchen and said something to her quietly. Pointing at us, she smiled and nodded.

"A doggy bag?" Mike asked grinning at Mark. "How many did you eat tonight?"

"Obviously, not enough!" Mark said gruffly, "And doggy bags are what you bring home from restaurants when you can't finish the meal you were served." Then he confessed, "Which I have never done. Most of the time it's not enough. And I just complimented Mike Cox! He did a great job throwing this party!"

I chuckled at Mark, "You could ask Andy to make some back at the house. I know he can make them."

"I know he can, and I probably will ask him," Mark said. "These are already cooked and ready to eat. So, why not?"

Mike looked at me, "He has us there."

Mike Cox came back with a plastic container full of the requested tasty things. The rich people Bel-Air and Beverly Hills used Rubbermaid, too. He handed them to Mark. "Here you go, two dozen blue cheese and pear jelly...Asian Pear and Cheese Tartlets."

Mark took them and his smile grew, "Thank you very much. I'll get the container back to you Monday."

Mike Cox raised his hand, "Don't worry about it. We have others."

Mark's phone vibrated telling him he had a text or email. He glanced at the screen and told us. "Inga's out front."

"For what Caleb did..." Mike Cox began to apologize again.

"It's fine," Mike said quickly shaking Mike Cox's hand. "No one was hurt."

I reached out my hand to Mike Cox, "It is great party, but we need to go. Thank you inviting us."

"Thank you for coming," Mike Cox said. "I think this movie will do very well."

We spoke briefly to Tom and Heather who we really didn't have the chance to talk with exclusively.

Inga stood with the back door open and waited patiently. Getting in she drove us back to the house. It wasn't surprising that Chet fell asleep leaning against me.

"What did you two think?" Mark asked Mike and me. "This was your first Hollywood party."

Mike looked at me and then shrugged to Mark, "I was surprised."

"Surprised?" Mark frowned, "By what?"

"I've worked for people with money," Mike looked at me. "Especially in Mount Pleasant..."

I nodded as I knew what he was talking about, "They can be superior." I grinned. "It's a side effect from living East of the Cooper."

"When I worked for Manny's Tree Service I did quite a few trees in those fashionable neighborhoods there," Mike smiled at a memory. "One woman had the nerve to demand we not make a mess in the yard."

"You were removing a big tree?" I asked.

Mike nodded, "It was a young, thin one about thirty feet high and bushy."

"How were you supposed to cut it down without messing up the yard!?" Mark gaped.

"I don't know," Mike grinned. "They can be very entitled because they have money." He shrugged. "I was surprised no one at the party acted like that. Mike Cox is pretty damned rich, but he just acted like a regular guy."

"So, why are you surprised?" Mark asked.

"Come on, Mark," Mike said. "You know how the media paints a picture of Hollywood. People taking advantage of young women and young men promising success in the industry if they have sex with them. The men running the studios run actors' lives telling them who they can and can't date. Changing last names because it was too," he did air quotes, "ethnic..."

Mark argued, "That was in the past! Modern studios are accepting people of different ethnics, gay, and straight."

"No," Mike argued back. "Recently there was that studio executive who was found guilty of sexual assault of that budding actor."

"They're Human!" Mark urged Mike to understand.

Mike pointed at Chet.

Mark whispered loudly, "They're good and bad, honest and deceitful. Some are even criminals!" Mark blurted in a whisper so he wouldn't wake up Chet. "Are all gays nice?"

"No," Mike admitted grudgingly. "I was pre-judging them like they do us." He raised his finger to make a point, "But you have to admit there are people here that have been so popular and practically worshiped; they think they are better than everyone else. They think they deserve it!"

"You just told us about one in Mount Pleasant, South Carolina!" Mark hissed back.

I had been sitting there enjoying bickering between the two. The relationship between the two of them had become a strong friendship. My ex-boyfriend and my husband weren't competing for me. Mike had me and Mark knew I wouldn't let them. I wasn't being fought for by a vampire and a werewolf; I wasn't Bella Swan in those Twilight movies! No one was mad or angry. "Mark has got you there."

"And I said Mike Cox wasn't that way," Mike said to me and turned back to Mark. "That's why I was surprised he wasn't. Remember me saying that?"

Mark grinned, "I suggest you use the judgement you want others to use with us."

"That's what I said I did!" Mike yelled in a whisper. "Weren't you listening?"

"Guys!" I chuckled and said holding a hand up in front of each of them, "We've all been judged unfairly by others because of what we are. We have been victims of the ignorant. Mike said he did with people here in Hollywood but said those people we just met weren't what he thought. He practiced what we preach." I look at Chet, "Are you gonna carry him in?"

"Are you kidding!?" Mike balked, "Last week he weighed fifty-seven pounds and stands four and a half feet tall! He's practically an adult male! I can but I could also get a hernia!"

"I'd help you," I said, "Do you know how you do a two man carry? I can show you."

Mike shrugged and shook Chet gently, "Wake up, Sport. You need to sleep in your bed. You'll be more comfortable."

The Chet that sat up, I don't think was fully awake. Mike and I helped him down the few gradual steps and changed him into his favorite cowboy pajamas. It had a cowboy spinning a rope and about to rope something.

"I swear he's grown a foot since he left Charleston," I whispered as we left Chet's room.

Mike nodded with a smile, "Well, he has my DNA." He shrugged, "I grew quickly from eight to thirteen or fourteen. I grew again quickly during a big growth spurt at twenty and twenty-two."

`That's good to know," I said as I kissed him. "We're going to have big bills on clothes the next few years."

"Yep," Mike grinned.

In the morning we entered the kitchen area where we would eat breakfast as we sat at the counter. Chet sat on a tall stool where we ate. This time Andy was cooking. The air smelled wonderful with baking bread, butter, sugar, and cinnamon.

"He's making French Toast!" Chet said happily, "With bread made that has chocolate chips and bananas! It's really good!"

Mike chuckled, "He told us; it has to be good."

Andy wore a chef's hat but wore a floral Hawai'ian shirt. "I made some banana bread with chocolate chips and I'm using that bread for French Toast. I'll make some eggs if you want and there's Applewood Bacon."

Mike liked what he heard. I, on the other hand, rubbed my stomach which I worked out hard to keep flat, "I'll need to work out if I continue to eat like this." I laughed and shrugged. "I do before every show. This movie will have cameras filming me up close. The camera shows an additional five pounds you don't really have."

Andy looked up quickly. "They must not have told you about the large room attached to the garage. It's a fully equipped gym."

"Really?" I asked happily.

"We have seen the garage when we went to the Santa Monica Pier, but no one mentioned a room attached to it," Mike said.

"An oversight, I'm sure," Andy chuckled. "You know now."

"In that case," I began as I sat down on a stool next to Chet, "I'd love some of your chocolate chip, Banana Bread French Toast."

"Me, too." Mike said sitting on the other side of Chet.

"Coming right up!" Andy nodded and smiled.

I liked how this kitchen and dinette were arranged. There was an island counter were where the stove and ovens were. Whoever cooked could be seen and spoken with.

Andy's Banana Bread, Chocolate French Toast was delicious! Sweet, but not overpoweringly sweet. The hot syrup was a mixture of honey-butter and maple. The bacon also had that sweet maple taste. Eating like this I needed to work out! It was worth it!

Mark was sitting quietly there, and something was playing on his mind. I could tell.

"What's on your mind, Mark?" Mike asked. He noticed Mark's demeanor change.

Mark looked up and smiled, "It's nothing really." He said automatically and quickly. He saw our faces and apparently we both had looks that said we knew better. His head went back a little in reaction to our faces and grinned. "Okay, okay," Mark said. He looked at Chet and said it in a way Chet wouldn't understand. "What Marti Cummings said last night about her nephew...she said Brian had the problem in the eighties. She had to be younger than her nephew."

"So?" I asked. "It happens sometimes. Brian senior could have married a young wife. Marti is about what...in her mid or late fifties now? She could have idolized her older nephew."

"Okay," Mark nodded with a grudging one shouldered shrug. "She said her nephew wasn't depressed..." he looked at Chet, "So, why did he do what he did?"

"How would I know?" I asked surprised.

Mike rolled his eyes and shook his head, "Don't you?"

I sighed, "I have a theory based on what Marti told us, but I'm not a therapist!"

"We won't sue you for malpractice if you're wrong," Mike smiled.

"Mike!" I chastised.

Mark chuckled, "You have good insight. If he wasn't depressed..."

"Depression doesn't always mean being sad," I said quickly. "What Marti described was a father that put extreme pressure on his son. He expected perfection all Brian's life." I shrugged. "When his father told him, he wished his son dead, that depression overshadowed his natural self-preservation instincts. He became angry and that depression made him strike out at his father solely to embarrass him."

Mike nodded, "And he arranged his final strike back to do the best job."

"That's right," I agreed. "He wanted his father to know the pain by hurting his father as much as his father caused him to feel over the years. I'd love to read his journal to get a better understanding of the pain. He knew who would be coming to the house; the police." I grudged a nod, "He also knew the media would want a story to explain why. He sent copies of his suicide note to others."

"A letter that was damning in of itself," Mark grimaced. "He really embarrassed his father."

"The ultimate screw you to his father," I added. "Brian Senior was never going to come around, so why not? He would always be a failure. Risk taking behavior is often a result of severe depression. Brian was tired of the struggle he couldn't win. He simply gave up."

Mike smiled sadly, "You and Tom are going to show some suicidal young person an alternative with a positive ending rather than killing themself."

Mark grinned, "I think the two of you have the positive ending." He shrugged. "You meet and fall in love. Yet so you wouldn't hurt the other you kept that love a secret. The positive is when your worlds collapsed, and you are honest with each other, and I watched it just...blow up!" He leaned forward a little, "I say the story you have is the positive message you have is one that needs telling."

"No," Mike shook his head. "We shouldn't be an example."

I nodded at what Mike said, "I agree. Things have been damned ugly for us."

"Yes, it has! All the more reason to tell your story!" Mark was now smiling more, "But once you were honest with each other you have been indivisible." He waved his arms as his hands spread grandly. Then pointed at Mike, "You told truths about your past! What you did to survive..." he waved at Mike's attempt to object, "Yes, yes...first it was forced on you. Then you used that knowledge to provide an income where no teenager could with no support from an adult." Then he tapped his own chest. "A part of me is still trying to insist what happened to me with my father and uncle was my doing!" He pointed at me, "And you! You should have had an idealistic life! But there was that one thing! You're gay!"

"That was a pretty big thing!" I pointed out irritated. "It was Hell!"

Mark nodded, "I have no doubt about that! But if you had been straight, you would have had the perfect life!"

"As a white Anglo-Saxon protestant," I nodded.

"Like I just said," Mark said. "What every Southern white man dreams for a son! If you chased women, that could have been your life!"

I narrowed my left eye and nodded, "Aren't we glad I'm not!?"

"Yes!" Mark smiled, "The whole world breathes a sigh of relief! But your story would be the true story! Two souls struggle against religion, race, and ignorance and come out on top! That's the story!"

Mike looked a little troubled and gave a shrug and shake of his head, "Perhaps, but..."

"Why not!?" Mark asked holding his hands out in frustration. "Hell, I was rooting for you two!"

"Really?" Mike asked.

"Really!" Mark said logically he touched his head. "I was too fuc..."

"Mark!!" I bellowed quickly and nodded quickly at Chet. Chet had heard his father, Mark, me, and grandparents cuss. It is Human to cuss. Situations got to a point you had to. There were those out there who didn't seem to be able to talk without a cussword every other sentence.

"I was messed up," Mark began as he tapped his head, "in here! I wasn't ready for you, Eric! You two are magic!"

"Magic!?" I balked. "The only magic is a strong desire to make it work on both of our parts, yes, but..."

"No, no, no," Mark shook his head, "You said an artist makes it look effortless; like anyone can do what they can do." He again threw his arms out in exasperation. "Hell, I've seen it and I still don't believe it!"

"Tell me he isn't gay!" Mike hissed to me quietly in a challenge. "The idea of an equal partnership is just that. It's just an idea. We argue!"

My eyes widened, "When?"

Mike pointed at me but looked at Mark, "See!?"

"Mike is right. Things aren't always fifty-fifty," I said.

"Many times, he carried us one-hundred percent," Mike nodded at me.

"Well," I began to protest.

Mike's head bobbed a bit as he stopped that train of thought, "Oh, come on! You know you did from the moment you appeared in the yard when I was fixing that truck you had control! You provided everything from food, shelter, and clothing those first weeks...and still do."

Mark's demeanor changed to one of compassion, "From what I've heard, you've had that a lot of that in the past...before Eric."

Mike sighed a bit and nodded, "Yeah." He looked at Chet. "If not for..." he nodded at Chet. "He was the greatest joy I ever knew." He said about his son. He spoke in a near whisper. "I let Chet's grandparents control things because I'd lose him. I couldn't fight them in court."

I knew, and Mark probably knew, that if there hadn't been a Chet; Mike and Sherry would not have gotten together at all.

"Most cultures are male dominated," Mike shrugged. "Latin cultures are very male dominated. Cuban culture is so much so, the man's word is law in a house. He's the provider and dictates everything and everyone at home. His wife can never be unfaithful. The man is free to be with whomever he chooses. A son can sow all the wild oats he wants, but he must marry a virgin from a good home and with good parents. Love is rarely the reason to marry."

"That's Human culture," Mark shrugged.

"With a major double standard!" Mike argued. "If you have a daughter, she is doubly judged! God forbid she's sexually assaulted! It doesn't matter that it wasn't her fault! She is ruined for the rest of her life!!" He looked at me but held my left hand out and touched the ring he gave me. "How does it look for everyone else? She is to be pure and untouched. Remember me telling you about this ring? Great, great grandmother Maria and great, great grandfather Cesar Vega who married a girl Cesar's parents never approved of. They threw him out! Why? She was unworthy." He asked and answered the question quickly. "You couldn't just marry a landowner's son and wealth if you were a peasant!"

I nodded, "What could she possibly bring to the Vega household!?" I said quietly. I said it sarcastically because it was so absurd!

Mike was nodding, "Yeah, that's right." He then shrugged again, "In my case it was the opposite. I was dating the Landowner's daughter. I had nothing to bring to that family. I did, however, admit to getting her pregnant. That was my way in." Mike frowned. "I didn't realize there was no way out."

"Was she a virgin?" Mark asked.

"There was no blood after we'd..." Mike looked at Chet and shrugged. He didn't have to say why. "I can't say." He shook his head at us. "I sure wasn't! These things are passed on in culture." He nodded at Chet, "That's Sherry's hair on a head with my face!" He looked at me more directly. "The fact is the motivations are different! The night we told Manny and Wynona Sherry was pregnant, I knew Manny wanted to kill me!"

Mark grimaced, "I'll bet! You didn't consider an abortion?"

Mike's eyes widened, "God, no!! I almost never went to church growing up, but even I knew that was wrong! A good Catholic would never consider that!"

"Of course, they do." Mark argued.

Mike agreed. "Just like they do with most forms of birth control. It's a sin to use condoms. The Rhythm Method is the only way..." his head waggled, "Well, that and no sex. Nothing should prevent any sperm and egg from beginning any chance of life God deemed important," Mike grimaced. "Otherwise, we play god."

"While I agree every life deserves every chance to survive," I said. "However, I think every woman has the right to decide if she should be pregnant or not. I do not agree it should be allowed as a form of birth control. There are ways to prevent the pregnancy from occurring. If you have unprotected sex, pregnancy can happen. That's the way it is."

Mark nodded, "I saw someone who had to go to confession after we did anything." He looked at me. "Don't get it wrong. We had some great..." and whispered to us, "s, e, x." He grudged a slight shrug. "I'll say it was pretty good, but nothing to confess about each time."

Chet grinned a little lopsided, "I spell just fine, Uncle Mark. You had great sex with this guy."

Mike chuckled, "He's got you there."

Mark grudged a nod, "I don't want to rush...you know," he looked at Chet and added quietly, "things."

"He's smart," I said to Mark. "We'll be there to advise." Touching Mike's arm to have him look at me. "You had many daddy figures, rarely a guiding father figure. It's a miracle you survived."

"I studied about the crimes in Florida," Mark mentioned. "Isn't there a lot of gangs in Miami?"

Mike nodded quickly, "Oh, yes. There is one of the biggest the is the Cuban American Gang, also known as the Cuban American Mafia. They go back before Castro at the end of Batista's Dictatorship."

"They were used by the government of the United States to spy on Cuba for us when Castro took control," I nodded. "The Central Intelligence Agency helped to supply and helped them organize better."

Mark shrugged a nod, "The enemy of my enemy is my friend. The Cubans in Miami already had the contacts in the United States and in Cuba."

"That's right," Mike nodded. "Cubans had been fleeing Cuba long before Castro. The only man that was a father figure was Mr. Blancho." He smiled at the memory and looked at me, "The small grocer that took me in those two years? He was a good man. He taught me about selflessness."

"A lesson you learned well," I nodded.

"He would always add things to what many of his loyal customers needed," Mike chuckled. "Older widows that needed more than they could afford. He would add a few cans of soup or stew and didn't tell them or charge them. Young mothers that often couldn't afford more than a few things to feed her children..." He looked at me and grinned with warmth. "His motivation is like yours. He cared..." he touched his chest over his heart, "about me!"

"And I still do," I nodded.

"I know," Mike nodded. He laughed a little bitter, "And you warned me."

I looked at Chet, but he didn't seem to be listening. With children, you never knew what they hear and understand. Giving him a bad opinion of his mother was a horrible thing to do. It was cruel.

Mark leaned closer and whispered, "What was her draw for you?" He waved at me and Mike, "I mean..." he let it fade.

Mike shrugged, "She was a beauty queen and had tiaras and trophies from Southern Little Miss at five and Miss Charleston at sixteen. She was runner up for Miss South Carolina! She was very pretty, rich and the bosses' daughter."

"Leave it to Beaver," I explained to Mark.

Mike nodded again with a chuckle, "The closest I'd ever come to finding June Cleaver..." he looked at Mark. "Beaver's mother? Barbara Billingsley?"

Mark frowned, "I know who June Cleaver was." He growled.

"You don't know how spoiled she was," I told Mark. "She was the only child that Daddy and Mom had together...and a surprise. What she wanted, she got."

"A sister to Manfred's children and Wynonna's children. She was a wild girl," Mike shrugged a nod. "She wasn't a virgin, but like I said, neither was I. She claimed to be on the pill and had been shortly after she began her periods to regulate them."

"That's usually a very low dose," I reminded him.

"I know," Mike nodded. "But her Dad and Mom had forbidden our seeing each other." He chuckled, "And no one told her no. She knew Dad would have a fit if we got caught."

"That just made her want you more," I ventured.

"Oh, yes," Mike nodded. "It added a sense of danger to sneaking around and the need to keep it secret. I found out the same moment they did about..." He very subtly pointed at Chet.

"What?!" Mark gaped. "You didn't know!?"

"We were discovered!" Mike said using the same volume Mark had. "We were forbidden to see each other. That's when we were all told!"

"You are kidding me!" Mark balked.

Mike shook his head, "At first, I thought it was just a way to have Dad and Mom approve our seeing each other, but it was true." He shrugged. "It was a real shotgun wedding!"

I nodded again, "A shotgun wedding that was catered and had an expensive wedding dress, bridesmaids, and groomsmen." I muttered.

"And thrown together in just three weeks!" Mike grimaced. "What she wanted, she got. Dad didn't want her to suffer, so he paid me well. Then again, anything she wanted was given to her."

"Damn," Mark said quietly in horror.

"They emasculated him," I added. "You had the beginnings of a wounded pride with me. I hope I didn't..."

"No!" Mike said quickly and then grudged a nod, "Okay. A little at the very first, but you shut that down quickly. It was my fault," Mike shrugged. "I could have left. Motivations," Mike said. "You cared about us...about me. It always was. It wasn't about what you wanted. I couldn't support either of them without giving up control."

A topic change was needed, "Okay!" I glanced at my watch and shook my head at what I saw. "My mind is still functioning on Central Time. I keep thinking it's later than it is."

"We're still doing what you hoped?" Mike asked smiling.

"I think we have to," I nodded and looked at Mark. "Don't you agree?"

"Hell, yeah!" Mark nodded quickly.

"Chet," Mike caused Chet to pay attention. Mike grinned. "We'll be visiting a friend today. We'll probably be there all day and after dark. You'll need something casual and probably a light jacket should it get cool."

"We'll be outside?" Chet asked. "Do I know them?"

"You sure do!" Mike nodded. "But we're not telling you yet."

"Daaad!" Chet did that elongated title every kid knows.

"Change," I instructed. "And let's go."

We didn't use Inga this time. There were the horror stories about the traffic in Los Angeles. It was Sunday morning! Traffic!? Yeah, someone always does what they aren't supposed to and will block traffic for miles!! Fortunately, the vehicle we used had satellite and we got updates. We were diverted from the Melrose Avenue to take the Santa Monica Freeway and go south of downtown Los Angeles. The satellite voice said to take this route due to traffic tie-ups...with little traffic, it should have been an hour. If we'd stayed on the Santa Monica to the Santa Ana...it would have been hours! When we were near, Chet looked at a sign pointed with an arrow saying "Disneyland, this way!"

How much air can Chet take in his lungs? His eyes grew and there was a long squealy gasp as he read the sign. "Disneyland?" He asked reverently. "Are we going to Disneyland!?"

"We sure are!" Mike nodded. "Mickey insisted!"

"Nuh uh," Chet said. "He did not." He said in amazed disbelief.

"I beg your pardon!" Mike mockingly said a bit indignant. "Show him your email from Mickey, PopE!"

I grinned and brought my phone out and pulled it up. Looking at the screen I read, "Thank you for participating in the Gay Days Celebratory Week at Disneyworld. It was a colossal success because of your efforts. If you and your family are in Florida, California, Japan or France...please come by and see me as my welcomed guests!!" I turned the screen so Chet could see Mickey waving to me on the screen while the music for "When You Wish Upon A Star" played.

Chet's eyes could not get any bigger! You never outgrow Disney. That was impossible.